In the vast, almost boundless and sparsely populated borderlands of the Qing Kingdom, there lay a secluded, tranquil little village akin to a paradise on earth—Daoxiang Village.
It was like a dust-covered pearl, gently embraced by rolling mountains. Raising one's eyes, one would see undulating peaks and swaying emerald shadows, creating a dreamlike and breathtaking scenery that captivated all who beheld it.
Yet who could have imagined that in such a picturesque place, the land was barren to the extreme, with natural resources desperately scarce?
The village's meager plots of poor farmland yielded pitifully few crops. No matter how hard the villagers toiled year in and year out, all they got in return was a meager harvest barely enough to keep them fed, leaving their lives stuck in a quagmire of bitter struggle.
It was in this unremarkable little village that Hu Feng's wailing cry announced his arrival into the world.
He was greeted by a dilapidated, wretched, and thoroughly crude adobe house.
The thatch on the roof was sparse and lifeless, resembling the thin, scattered hair of a frail old man on the verge of death. Whenever fierce storms raged, the thatch would shiver and sway uncertainly, emitting a heartbreaking, whimpering sound as if the entire house might collapse at any moment.
Hu Feng's parents were honest, simple, and unpretentious farming folk.
Every day at the break of dawn, when the horizon took on the pale color of fish bellies, the two of them would hunch their backs, grip rough farming tools in their calloused hands, and plunge headfirst into those tiny, cramped patches of poor land to toil away.
When the scorching sun hung high in the sky and sweat soaked their clothes like beads with broken strings, they had no time to wipe it away. Not until the night grew as thick as ink and the stars twinkled would the two drag their exhausted bodies and slowly shuffle back home.
All this exhausting toil was simply so their young son could have enough to eat and escape the torment of hunger.
In his early childhood, Hu Feng was clever and exceptionally endearing—anyone who saw him couldn't help but fall in love with him.
Especially his wide, watery eyes, which resembled clear and lively deep pools; whenever his gaze shifted, it brimmed with a wisdom that surpassed his years.
Even though life was poor and a lack of food and clothing was a constant companion, a bright smile always lingered at the corners of his mouth, bringing no small amount of joy to the dull and oppressive atmosphere of his home.
"Feng'er, go help your mother bring the firewood inside." His mother's voice was soft and gentle. The ruthless carving knife of time had left deep and shallow wrinkles on her face—the cruel branding marks of life's hardships.
Hu Feng gave a crisp response and, like a little foal breaking free from its reins, ran joyfully toward the woodshed.
His tiny arms struggled to wrap around a bundle of firewood, his legs trembling slightly from the weight, and his pace appeared a bit unsteady. Yet the expression on his little face was remarkably resolute, his teeth clenched as he summoned all his strength to inch forward into the house step by step.
"Dad, when I grow up, I'm going to farm just like you and support our whole family!" Hu Feng stood at the doorway, cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting loudly toward his father working in the fields.
Hearing this, his father straightened up, propped his hoe on the ground, raised a hand to wipe the bean-sized beads of sweat from his forehead, and broke into a grin, his eyes filled with boundless love and tenderness:
"Silly child, what future is there in farming? Dad is hoping you can walk out of these mountains and never have to farm."
Hu Feng tilted his head and blinked his large eyes. Although somewhat bewildered and confused, he still nodded obediently. Deep within his eyes, a spark of curiosity flickered and danced like a newly ignited tiny flame.
Whenever night fell like a black curtain, the village elders would carry their tobacco pouches and slowly saunter over to the large, leafy banyan tree at the village entrance, which was shaped like an open giant umbrella.
The elders would sit tightly in a circle, the sparks in their tobacco pouches flickering on and off like nimble fireflies in the night.
Hu Feng would always wriggle his way to the very front of the crowd like a slippery little loach, resting his chin in his hands and listening in rapt fascination.
"Those immortal cultivators, let me tell you, they are immensely powerful! They can ride the clouds and tread the mist, just like immortals strolling through the clouds; they can summon wind and rain with a flick of a finger, stirring up surging tempests and torrential downpours; with a single spell cast, towering mountains can be shifted, and raging rivers can instantly flow backward!"
The old man spoke with animated enthusiasm, his tobacco pouch rising and falling with his hand gestures. Hu Feng's eyes widened into round circles, staring unblinkingly, his mouth slightly open in sheer wonder and yearning.
At that very moment, a seed of immortality was quietly planted deep within his heart, waiting only to break through the soil and sprout.
Time slipped away silently like sand through fingertips, and Hu Feng gradually grew up amidst the nourishment of the passing years.
One day, he followed his father up the mountain to cut firewood.
The winding mountain road was rugged and treacherous, with thorns growing wildly everywhere; if one wasn't careful, they would get painfully pricked.
Hu Feng carried a hatchet, striding forward closely behind his father's footsteps with a bright and resolute gaze.
"Dad, do you think immortal cultivators are really as powerful as they say?" Hu Feng asked, turning his head slightly as he swung his hatchet to clear away the thorns blocking their path.
His father stopped in his tracks, turned to look at him, and the corners of his mouth turned up in a simple, rustic smile. "Maybe so, but those are unreachable things. They are worlds apart from the life of us farming folk."
Hu Feng bit his lower lip, his small face taut, the knuckles of his hand gripping the hatchet turning white as he swore inwardly to himself: "I must become an immortal cultivator, and I will definitely make sure Mom and Dad live a good life!"
Just as father and son were talking, a sudden gust of howling wind swept through, rustling the surrounding tree leaves into a frantic frenzy and snapping tree branches under the unbearable weight with a crisp crack.
A wild boar of enormous size, with stiff black bristles standing on end like steel needles, charged out from the dense woods like a streak of black lightning, carrying an aura of fierce hostility.
Two tusks protruded past the wild boar's lips, sharp and gleaming with a cold light like two fatal blades; its blood-red eyes resembled blazing flames, locking firmly onto the father and son not far ahead. It let out a muffled, ferocious roar and lunged straight at them like an arrow released from a bowstring.
Seeing this perilous scene, the father did not hesitate in the least. His figure suddenly shifted, acting like a solid wall as he instantly sprang in front of Hu Feng to shield his son securely behind him.
At the same time, his right hand swiftly reached for his waist, tightly gripping the old yet still sharp hatchet. The veins on the back of his hand bulged like twisting little snakes—the physical manifestation of a strength intertwined with tension and resolve.
In contrast, young Hu Feng showed not the slightest trace of fear on his tender little face.
His gaze turned sharp; bending down and reaching out in one fluid motion, he agilely picked up a thick wooden stick from the ground and raised it high with both hands.
The wooden stick traced an arc through the air. With his little face flushed red at the top of his lungs, he shouted at the top of his voice toward his father: "Dad! Your son will help you beat it to death!"
Before the words had even faded, the wild boar had already lunged fiercely forward like an out-of-control savage bull.
His father seized the timing and let out a roar like a booming bronze bell that made the surrounding air vibrate slightly. He swung the hatchet with all his might, carrying the sound of rushing wind as he slashed fiercely at the wild boar.
With a muffled thud, the hatchet sank deep into the wild boar's tough hide, and blood splattered everywhere.
The injured wild boar let out a piercing, shrill shriek of pain like a howling evil spirit. Not only was it not scared off, but its fury was thoroughly ignited.
It opened its bloody maw, baring its terrifying and gruesome tusks, and once again recklessly launched an even more violent attack.
At this critical juncture, Hu Feng's gaze was sharp as a torch. Seizing the exact moment when the wild boar was pinned down and distracted by his father, he gripped the wooden stick tightly with both hands, his little face turning purple from the exertion, and threw all his might into smashing it savagely across the wild boar's eyes.
This blow was immensely heavy and landed with absolute precision. With a crisp "crack," the wild boar howled in agony as its eyes instantly bloodshot and bulged outward like two blood-red pearls on the verge of bursting.
Severely battered, the wild boar finally realized that the father and son before it were not to be trifled with. It glared at the two of them with utter reluctance, tucked its tail between its legs, and scuttled in disarray back into the deep woods, vanishing from sight in the blink of an eye.
"Feng'er, are you alright?" His father turned around, his hands anxiously grabbing Hu Feng's shoulders as he looked him up and down thoroughly, his eyes filled with worry and concern.
Hu Feng nonchalantly brushed the dust from his clothes and flashed a brilliant smile. "Dad, I'm fine!"
Through this battle, the conviction in Hu Feng's heart grew even more rock-solid: "I must grow stronger, and I will definitely protect those I love!"
Back at home, Hu Feng sat alone on the threshold with his knees pulled to his chest, gazing longingly into the distant rolling mountains.
The rosy glow of sunset cast its light upon his young face, outlining his resolute contours, while the yearning radiance in his eyes shone brilliantly as if gathering an endless river of stars.
"Nothing can stop the footsteps of my advance!" He slowly clenched his fists, the muscles in his arms tightening and his knuckles turning white, uttering every single word like an unbreakable and solemn vow.