At thirteen, the people of Tanjiaba wanted to drown him in the pond.
A stele tested his bones, and his baleful nature was revealed. The immortal master set up a stele before him: I will spare your life and take you with me.
The mountain is the Ministry of Justice, and the blade is the register. Three people must be dealt with every month. Fail, and your name goes into the register, where you wait to die.
A child born and raised in the mountains knows nothing about cultivating immortality, only how to set traps. But once his name is in the register, no one dares point a stick at him again.
On the third-to-last line of the register, the old ink has darkened to brown. His name is written there.
Those words have waited thirteen years.
