A moment later, Han Li felt a sudden tightness around his waist. His body grew light, and without any effort on his part, he found himself rising into the air.
He turned his head and saw that the senior brother who had been trailing him had gathered him up in one arm while, with the other hand and both legs, climbing swiftly upward. At the same time Han Li noticed that the sun hung high in the very center of the sky.
So in the end he had still failed to complete the climb on his own. Han Li felt a pang of sadness. He had pushed himself so hard—why could he still not match the others?
In the blink of an eye they reached the top of the cliff. Only six children were sitting cross-legged there, resting, while Wu Yan spoke with a plump, wealthy-looking old man of fifty-odd years, who wore a deep-blue scholar's gown and held his hands clasped behind his back. Hall Master Yue and Protector Wang stood at the man's side, and a few others stood near them as well, all waiting as the young senior brothers carried the slower children up to the summit one by one.
Before long every child had been brought up. Then Hall Master Yue stepped forward and faced the children solemnly.
"This time, seven have passed the test. Six of you will enter our Hundred-Temper Hall and formally become inner disciples of the sect." He spoke slowly.
"One other, Wu Yan, reached the cliff first and performed outstandingly. He is to be sent directly to the Seven Ultimate Hall to study the sect's secret arts." Hall Master Yue glanced back at the old man in the scholar's gown, who stroked his beard and nodded in satisfaction.
"As for the rest…" Hall Master Yue studied the other children for a moment, lightly stroking his chin with his right hand. He pondered briefly, then said:
"Zhang Tie and Han Li. The two of you did not arrive at the summit on time, but your performance was outstanding, and you seem able to endure the hardships of training. You two will first stay with a few instructors to lay your foundations. In half a year's time you will be tested again. If you pass, you will formally become inner disciples. If not, you will be sent to the outer hall to serve as outer disciples."
Han Li glanced at the boy who stepped forward alongside him, Zhang Tie. He was the very one who had followed right behind Han Li, hanging on the rope and nearly reaching the summit.
"Protector Wang," Hall Master Yue said, looking coldly at the children who remained, "give each of these a little silver and send them all back home."
"Your orders!"
Protector Wang stepped forward, bowed in acceptance, and led the failed children down the cliff.
"Zhang Jun, Wu Mingrui, the two of you take those who passed to our hall, and hand them over to Deputy Hall Master Gu and Instructor Li respectively."
Two more of the young men came forward in obedience and split Han Li and the others into two groups, then began leading them down the cliff. One of them was the cold-faced senior brother. As they left the summit, Han Li could not help stealing a glance at Wu Yan, who was still speaking with the old man in the blue gown, showing no sign of moving at all.
"He is different from you. He is a core disciple being sent to the Seven Ultimate Hall. Once he finishes his studies and comes out, he will be at least a Protector." The other senior brother, with a long, thin face, seemed to have read the question in Han Li's mind and offered the explanation on his own. Yet in his words there seemed to lurk a trace of envy and jealousy that could not quite be put into words.
"Isn't it all because he has a cousin who married the Vice Sect Leader? If not for his cousin marrying Vice Sect Leader Ma as his second wife, how could he—him, past the age limit for disciples—have entered the Seven Ultimate Hall?" The cold-faced senior brother's words made a chill run down one's back.
"Zhang Jun, have you lost your mind? The Vice Sect Leader is not someone we are qualified to gossip about! If any of our fellow disciples overheard, neither of us would escape the punishment of facing the wall in penitence!" The thin-faced senior brother was alarmed by these words. Hastily he looked around in all directions and only relaxed once he saw that, apart from these few children, there was no one else about.
The cold-faced senior brother sniffed contemptuously, apparently holding some concern of his own, and said no more. It was then that Han Li learned the cold-faced senior brother's name: Zhang Jun. Han Li only half understood what the two men had said, but he gathered vaguely that Wu Yan had not entered the Seven Ultimate Hall through genuine skill. He had gotten in effortlessly only because he had a relative among the sect's deputy leaders to serve as his backer.
As they walked down the mountain path, these two senior brothers both fell to brooding over discouraging matters within the sect, and had no heart for idle talk. They simply led the children along in silence, and Han Li and the others dared not speak among themselves either. Perhaps they were all beginning to sense, however dimly, that the Sect of Seven Mysteries was a very different place from home.
As they passed through a dense stretch of forest, an old man slowly emerged from among the trees. Sixty-odd years old, tall and gaunt, with a sallow face and a shock of white hair that reached to his shoulders, he walked along hunched over, coughing without pause. To see how painfully he coughed, one would think he might collapse at any moment, and it was truly worrying.
But Zhang Jun and his companion showed no sign of concern at the sight of him. On the contrary, they hurried forward and bowed deeply and respectfully to the old man.
"Doctor Mo, you're well. Is there anything you need your disciples to do?" For once, Zhang Jun's cold demeanor was gone, replaced by a face full of deference. To him, this old man was more worthy of respect than even the Hall Master or the Vice Sect Leader.
"Oh, are these newly arrived disciples from the mountain?" The old man finally stopped coughing and asked slowly in a hoarse voice.
"Yes, Doctor. Among these, six are formal disciples and two are registered disciples." Zhang Jun answered carefully.
"I'm short of hands at the moment, I need one medicine-refining lad and one herb-gathering disciple. These two will come with me." Doctor Mo pointed the finger of his thin hand, and it happened to land on the two registered disciples, Han Li and the other. His tone carried a weight that admitted no argument.
"Your orders. These two are registered disciples—being noticed by you, Doctor Mo, is a stroke of luck for them. Come now, pay your respects to Doctor Mo! If the two of you can learn even a move or two of his healing arts, it will be a blessing for the rest of your lives!" Neither senior brother showed the slightest objection, and the thin-faced Wu Mingrui even showered the old man with flattery.
Seeing that the two senior brothers had no complaints, Han Li and Zhang Tie had no right to object either. They followed the old man into the forest.
The old man led the two boys slowly along the paths within the woods, turning this way and that. Then, all at once, the scene before their eyes opened up, and a lush, vibrant little emerald valley appeared before them.
On the left side of the valley stretched a wide field of plots from which rose a rich medicinal fragrance, filled with herbs that Han Li could not put a name to. On the right sat a cluster of a dozen or so houses of all sizes, joined together into a row. Looking all around, apart from the entrance they had come through, there seemed to be no other way out of the valley at all.
"This is the Spirit Hands Valley. Aside from the disciples who live here, outsiders rarely come unless they are ill or wounded. The two of you will live here from now on. Go rest for a while first, then come to my hall in the evening to see me. I have some words to say to you." The old man stopped in front of a row of adjoining rooms and pointed at one of the smaller ones.
"You may call me Old Mo from now on." The old man paused after speaking, then added:
"Or you may call me Doctor Mo."
Having said this, Doctor Mo left the two boys to themselves and, coughing step by step, walked into another, more imposing large room.
Han Li was already dead tired. Paying no attention at all to the other boy, Zhang Tie, he threw himself onto the wooden bed in one of the rooms and fell fast asleep in an instant. To him, whatever the case, he could now count himself half a disciple of the Sect of Seven Mysteries.