Chapter 1
Chapter 1: The Black Raven Old Daoist
Creak...
Creak...
The wind whistled through the forked branches of a sapling in the freezing night.
Under the pale moonlight, a Black Raven swooped down and perched on a withered branch. The grating, unpleasant noise of the wind ceased abruptly.
Beneath the tree, a thin, diminutive figure huddled in the dirt, shivering violently. He looked up at the Black Raven, then lowered his head again, pressing his legs together and curling into a tight ball to preserve whatever heat remained.
Voices drifted from inside the house.
“Husband, go take a look. Is that little bastard dead yet?”
A man dressed in a cotton-padded jacket grunted in response and stepped outside. He took a sharp breath of the frigid air, walked over to the small tree, and kicked the shivering heap.
Seeing the boy still trembling, he spat on the ground in disgust. “Pah!”
“This wretched life is stubborn.”
With that, he turned and went back inside.
After a few more curses were exchanged between the man and woman, the faint lamplight in the window was extinguished.
Under the tree, the small figure curled up even tighter.
On the branch above, the Black Raven’s dark, glossy eyes shifted, gleaming with a strange, unnatural intelligence.
“Little Brat, how old are you?”
A hoarse, raspy voice seemed to echo from nowhere, ringing directly in the ears of the child beneath the tree.
The thin child raised his head, looking left and right, but saw nothing in the empty yard. Still, being honest by nature, he answered, “Twelve.”
“Twelve years old, yet so small and thin... you’ve eaten your fill of bitterness. A child of bitter fate.”
The hoarse voice spoke again: “What is your name?”
“Han Yu.”
The child answered, then, enduring the biting cold, scanned his surroundings once more. He saw the Black Raven above him, tilting its head to stare down at him under the white moonlight.
“Is that you talking? Black Raven?”
“Heh heh...”
The hoarse voice chuckled dryly and continued, “Little Han Yu, why have you been thrown out in the yard? Why not go inside? Are those your parents in there?”
“The people inside aren’t my parents. My father died hunting. My mother remarried and went to another village.”
Han Yu replied softly, “This is my home. They won’t let me live inside anymore...”
“Who are ‘they’?”
“The Village Head’s son and his daughter-in-law.”
“Why?” the hoarse voice asked.
“I don’t know why. They just drove me out. They said once I die in this yard on my own, everything will be settled.”
Han Yu answered, confused. He kept his eyes on the bird; he had never seen such a large crow before.
The hoarse voice laughed again. “So, they want to seize your house but don’t want to be held accountable for a murder lawsuit, is that it?”
Han Yu stared blankly at the Black Raven, unsure how to respond to such complex words.
Accompanied by the raspy voice, the Black Raven spread its wings. It was massive—nearly half the size of Han Yu’s small body.
“Little Brat, give me your treasure, and I’ll help you kill all those who have seized your home. How about that?”
“My family is very poor. We have no treasure.”
Han Yu answered honestly.
“There is. There still is.”
The hoarse voice hissed, “After we, the Three Friends of Quanlin, parted ways back then, your grandparents became a couple, hiding from this ugly monster... Haha... Hahaha...”
The laughter grew manic.
“Fifty years have passed, and so what? So what if they hid? In the end, isn’t it this ugly monster who has lived the longest, finally taking a step onto the Immortal Path!”
The voice started hoarse, then transformed into a low, beast-like growl, before finally carrying the distinct tremor of a sob.
Hearing the emotional shifts in the voice, Han Yu felt a sudden surge of pity.
However, the sensation of his frozen limbs and gnawing hunger quickly reminded him that he might not even survive the night. He truly had no qualification to pity anyone else.
“I really don’t know about any treasure.”
“Haha, whether you know or not doesn’t matter,” the hoarse voice said. “Little Brat, I’ll help you this once. You give me the treasure, and from then on, no one will ever trouble you again. You won’t lose out. Just agree, and I’ll go wipe out the Village Head’s family for you—root and branch.”
“If I give you my treasure, will you agree to anything?” Han Yu asked, looking at the large raven spreading its wings, looking ready to fly off and slaughter the occupants of the house.
The hoarse voice replied, “Of course not. I will agree to one thing, and only if it is something I am capable of doing.”
Han Yu lowered his voice. “If I give you my treasure, will you teach me your skills? Is that okay?”
“Hmm? You want to learn my skills?” The hoarse voice paused, sounding genuinely puzzled.
“Mhm.”
“Hahaha! If you truly wish to learn, I can teach you. But if you can’t master them, don’t blame me. The treasure will still be mine!”
“Mhm.”
“You still want to learn?”
“Mhm.”
“Heh, you’re a real stubborn blockhead, aren’t you? If you’re serious, then I accept!” The hoarse voice declared. “Give me the treasure, and I’ll teach you my skills. Whether you can learn them or not depends on your own fortune!”
Han Yu agreed, then felt at a loss. “I don’t know where the treasure is.”
“Think carefully. You must willingly take out your own treasure and hand it to me.”
The hoarse voice urged, “Think hard!”
Han Yu closed his eyes and thought seriously. Although he didn’t know what treasure he possessed, he earnestly prayed in his heart: If I really have a treasure, I’ll give it to him in exchange for the chance to learn skills.
Suddenly, the support behind his back vanished.
The small tree he had been leaning against disappeared into thin air. Han Yu fell back into nothingness, but before he could react, a heavy, solid object appeared in his hand. It felt neither like bronze nor iron.
This seemed to be his treasure.
Han Yu looked down. It was a small disc, about half the length of a finger, carved with the image of a luxuriant, leafy tree.
Along with this disc, something else seemed to have been awakened within him. It felt as if his right hand was gripping a piece of warm charcoal—hot, but not burning.
Han Yu remembered gathering firewood earlier that winter. He had found a strangely warm, round stone that had inexplicably disappeared into his right hand. Could that have been a treasure too?
Which treasure was the one the voice wanted?
Unable to discern the subtleties of the situation, he gripped the wooden disc tightly and looked up at the large raven, which was now hovering above him, flapping its wings slowly.
“If I give you the treasure, I can learn your skills?”
The large raven opened its beak and let out a loud caw-caw.
Han Yu was stunned. Wasn’t it the Black Raven talking to him all this time?
“What foolish talk. Do you want to learn to fly from my bird?”
“Then what should I do...” Han Yu asked, utterly confused.
Seeing the small child’s bewilderment, the large raven let out a mocking caw. It swooped down, extended its sharp talons, and hooked them into Han Yu’s clothes.
With a powerful flap, it lifted him, its claws digging into his shoulders, and flew him over the low earthen wall of the courtyard.
Han Yu felt a sharp, stinging pain in his shoulders and clamped his mouth shut to keep from crying out.
The moonlight was bright. As the crow carried him over the wall, he turned his head to glance at the small courtyard where he had lived for twelve years. Before he could take a second look, he was unceremoniously dropped onto the muddy ground outside.
A white-haired Old Daoist wearing black robes stood before him.
His voice was the same hoarse rasp from before. “Little Brat, you didn’t lose the treasure, did you?”
“No.”
“Then let’s go.”
Han Yu stared blankly at the Old Daoist. The large Black Raven landed on the old man’s shoulder, staring right back at the boy.
So, it really wasn’t the Black Raven speaking; it was this Old Daoist using some kind of technique.
“What are you still standing there for?”
The Old Daoist turned and began walking away, not waiting for a reply.
Han Yu snapped back to reality. Ignoring the hunger, the cold, and the bleeding scratches on his shoulders, he scrambled up and hurried to follow.
The old man, the child, and the bird left the small mountain village, walking along a path bathed in moonlight. They traveled farther and farther, until they gradually faded into the night.
Behind them, a commotion arose within the small mountain village, before eventually settling back into silence.
“Where is that little bastard? How did he just disappear...”
“Gone? Good riddance!”
