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    Jin sat on a wet rock outside the village, looking at the hills to the west. His sandals were falling apart, covered in mud from two years of running errands for Master Gu. He was sixteen, thin as a stick, with messy black hair over his eyes. Everyone called him Cricket—small, loud when mad, and useless at fighting.


    The air smelled like wet grass, but a faint hum came from the hills. The village was tiny—straw huts, pigs, nothing much—sitting close to those weird lands. People talked about a valley out there with strange lights and missing folks. Jin’s mom worked for Master Gu, the old guy in the shack up the path. She washed his clothes and cooked, while Jin hauled water and wood whenever Gu yelled for it.


    Gu was different. People said he was an immortal, though he looked grumpy and old. Two years ago, Jin saw him float an inch off the ground, eyes like knives. He only trained a few kids—ones who could make mist with their punches after months of work. Kang Tae was one, always acting big. Jin just watched from the side, ignored.


    A week ago, Gu had enough. “You’re a waste,” he growled, waving Jin away. “No energy, no point—get lost.” The yard was full of his real students, bigger kids making mist with their fists. Gu called it the Mist Stage, the first step. Jin stood there with his bucket, feeling empty inside—no buzz, no nothing.


    After that, he stayed away from the shack but kept working. His mom needed Gu’s coins, so he grabbed apples from an orchard near the western path, avoiding Kang Tae’s smirks. Days dragged—mud, apples, that hum—but Gu’s words burned. He wanted to prove something.


    That morning, he dropped a load of apples and sat on the rock. His stomach growled, but he didn’t care. He kicked at the dirt, same as always. The hum felt louder today—or maybe he was just tired of it all. His foot hit a pebble, and it rolled into a ditch he’d crossed a million times with buckets. A sharp clink came back, not the usual thud.


    Jin frowned. He’d heard that before, faint, on other days. Never cared—too worn out. But today, it bugged him, like the hum, like Gu. He got off the rock and crouched by the ditch. It was muddy and weedy, but he dug with his fingers, half-curious, half-fed-up. Something green peeked out.


    He pulled it free—a small jade chunk, cracked down the middle. He wiped it on his sleeve. It wasn’t pretty, but it glowed a little green in the light.


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    “Huh,” Jin said, flipping it over. It felt warm, not cold. Odd. He’d carried enough junk for Gu to know this wasn’t normal around here. Maybe it’d get him new sandals. “One day,” he muttered, “I’ll show them.” He stood to toss it.


    Then it buzzed.


    A jolt hit his arm, sharp and alive. Jin yelped, almost dropping it, but held tight. His head spun, and when he blinked, the village was gone.


    He was in a huge room. Mist covered his feet, and gold flecks floated around. Walls went up forever, full of scrolls moving on their own. Jin’s jaw dropped. This wasn’t real.


    A woman sat in the middle, floating. Silver hair fell past her shoulders, her robe switching colors—blue, purple, gold. Her green eyes hit him hard, and his knees shook. She was beautiful, but too big, like a mountain.


    “Hey, you,” she said, her voice in his head. “You picked up my prison.”


    Jin stared. “Your what?”


    She floated closer, silent. Up close, her face was perfect, smirking like she knew something. “I’m Hyeon Seo,” she said. “An immortal from way up. That jade’s my cage.”


    Jin looked at it. Still warm. “This? A cage?”


    “Yeah,” she said, arms crossed. “Been stuck forever. You found it, so we’re linked. Break it, I’m out. Keep it, I’ll help you.”


    “Help how?” Jin’s voice cracked. An immortal? Him? He’d heard stories—flying, lightning, forever stuff.


    Her smirk grew. “I’ll make you strong. Stronger than that old grump you work for. Stronger than the big schools. I know the steps—Mist, Accumulation, all the way up. But there’s a catch.”


    “What catch?” Jin asked.


    “You owe me,” she said, leaning in. Her eyes locked his, and he couldn’t breathe. “Break the jade later. Free me. Deal?”


    His head raced. He was Cricket—nothing. But the jade felt real. So did she. He wanted more. “Deal,” he said.


    The room vanished. Jin stumbled back to the path. The jade glowed in his hand. A tiny buzz started inside him—weak, but there.


    A yell broke the quiet. “There’s the rat!”


    Jin turned. Kang Tae stomped down the hill, grinning mean. His fists glowed a little—Gu’s training. Min Soo and Dae Ho followed, one sneaky, one huge with a club.


    “Stealing apples, Cricket?” Kang Tae said, cracking his knuckles. “Gu says you’re trash. Time to learn.”


    Jin’s stomach dropped. He couldn’t fight—Kang Tae would flatten him. But the jade buzzed, and Hyeon Seo’s voice whispered, “Dodge left. Kick his knee.”


    Kang Tae rushed, fist flying. Jin jumped left, the punch missing, and kicked. His foot hit Kang Tae’s knee—not strong, but enough. The big guy stumbled, cursing.


    “Run!” Hyeon Seo said.


    Jin ran. “Get him!” Kang Tae shouted, but Jin dodged through trees, legs burning. He didn’t stop until the village was tiny, panting against an oak.


    The jade hummed, that buzz still there. “What now?” he gasped.


    Hyeon Seo’s voice came, calm. “Go west. There’s a valley where immortals train. That’s your start.”


    Jin grinned, breathing hard. A start. Maybe this was it.