Over the next few days, he survived on birds that flew into the cave and died from the impact. He spent most of his time carefully observing the stone bead. He applied its dew to his arm every day, and gradually the arm healed completely. He treasured the dew greatly and collected a fair amount in a bird's skull.
One day, he evenly sprinkled the dew he had collected over several days onto a strip of cloth, wrapped the stone bead carefully, and hung it around his neck. He tugged it a few times to make sure it would not fall off. Then, during a lull in the suction, he went to the cave mouth. Taking a deep breath, he tore most of his remaining clothes into strips, tied them together, secured one end to a rock, and tied the other around his waist. Then he carefully began climbing down.
After descending about five or six yards, his hand slipped, and his body fell. The cloth strips held for a moment, causing him to swing, and he managed to grab a protruding branch. The cloth strips broke in the middle, and the part tied around his waist swung loosely in the air.
Cold sweat broke out on Martin's forehead. He looked down. About twenty yards remained. With one hand gripping the branch, he quickly grabbed the cloth strips with the other, tied them to the branch, and breathed a sigh of relief.
He moved carefully, slowly making his way back to the cliff wall, and continued climbing down. When he was only a few yards from the bottom, his cloth strips had reached their limit. Martin did not hesitate. He jumped.
The cloth strips broke again, but they slowed his fall somewhat. The wind rushed past. He broke several more branches. At the moment of landing, he twisted his body with difficulty, landing on his toes first, then curled into a ball and rolled.
The rocks on the ground were like knives, cutting into his body, leaving bloody wounds. A sharp stone stabbed into his right leg, and through the wound, white bone could be seen.
Martin's breath came in ragged gasps. His vision blurred. He reached into his mouth with difficulty and took the cloth-wrapped stone bead from around his neck, sucking the dew that had soaked into the cloth. After a while, he struggled to sit up. With trembling hands, he unwrapped the cloth and squeezed a few drops of dew onto the wound on his leg.
A cool sensation spread from the wound. After doing this, he collapsed weakly on the ground, praying silently that no beast would find him before he recovered.
Just then, he heard shouts in the distance.
"Allen! Where are you?"
Martin was startled. Listening carefully, he recognized his father's voice. Without time to think, he shouted with all his remaining strength, "Father! I'm here!"
A beam of light quickly approached from afar, circled above the cliff, then descended like lightning. The light faded, revealing Gerald, the young monk from the abbey, with Thomas tucked under his arm. Gerald frowned as he looked at Martin.
Thomas saw his son and broke down in tears. He ran to Martin, held him, and sobbed, "Allen, why did you do this? How could you be so reckless? Did you think about how your mother and I would live if you died?"
Martin was confused for a moment, then realized that his father thought he had tried to kill himself. Looking at his own wounds and disheveled state, he could only smile bitterly.
Gerald glanced at Martin, then looked up at the cliff and spotted the torn cloth strips. He leaped up, climbing quickly, and reached the cave. Just then, the suction appeared. His expression changed briefly, but he quickly recovered. Unconcerned about the suction, he looked around the cave, then lightly descended. He said coldly, "Your son tried to kill himself but was caught by a natural wind hole, which is why he didn't die. Now that Martin has been found, the elders will decide what to do when we return to the abbey."
He then swept his sleeve, grabbed Martin and his father, and quickly left the area. Before long, they arrived at the foot of St. Helman's Abbey. He climbed the stone stairs easily and reached the top.
Martin was back at the place he had left not long ago, but his mood was completely different. Several people stood at the top, all wearing expressions of disgust. Gerald quickly whispered something to one of them. The man frowned and said coldly, "Since he's been found, take him to the guest room to see his mother."
In the guest room, Martin's mother saw her son and burst into tears, holding him and sobbing. From his parents, Martin learned what had happened.
After he had left home, his parents immediately returned to the Lynn family manor and found Uncle Frederick. Worried about his safety, the three of them went to Victor. Because of Frederick's forceful manner, Victor reluctantly contacted all the relatives, and together they sent a petition to St. Helman's Abbey, begging for help in finding Martin.
The abbey had never encountered such a situation before. They did not want to get involved, but Martin had run away because he had not been accepted. If he died, they would not normally care about a mortal's life or death. However, if word spread, the local villagers would talk, and fewer parents would send their children to be tested. After much deliberation, they sent several monks to search the area. Martin's father insisted on going along.
That was how they had found him.
Soon, someone brought medicinal soup. Martin's mother thanked him and carefully fed it to Martin. The medicine, made by the holy monks, was remarkably effective. After drinking it, Martin felt much better, and the pain from his wounds eased.
His parents' concerned words filled his ears. He wanted to explain, but he doubted they would believe him.
At that moment, in the great hall of St. Helman's Abbey, several elders sat listening to Gerald's account of finding Martin. After a long while, a red-faced elder slammed the table. "What do mortal lives have to do with us cultivators of the holy light? Look at the other holy monasteries in the Kingdom of Frankonia. Which one is as disgraceful as we are? Sending monks to search for a child who tried to kill himself because he wasn't accepted. How shameful!"
A cold-faced middle-aged man sighed and said in a deep voice, "Elder Marcus is absolutely right. Among all the monasteries in Frankonia, we at St. Helman's are the worst. But if that child dies near our abbey, it will affect our recruitment in the future. Parents will think their children might try to kill themselves if they aren't accepted. Who would dare send their children?"
An elder in embroidered robes took a sip of tea and said unhurriedly, "The truth is, it's because St. Helman's has declined. We need to select as many suitable disciples from among the mortals as possible. Heh, five hundred years ago, we wouldn't have cared about mortal opinions."
The last elder, a wrinkled old man, sighed and slowly said, "This boy tried to kill himself once. He might try again. To avoid future trouble, let's make an exception and accept him as a servant monk." He glanced at the middle-aged man, then closed his eyes and said nothing more.
The red-faced elder frowned. "Elder Lawrence, are we so degraded that we make exceptions for the life of a single mortal?"
Elder Lawrence opened his eyes, his voice growing cold. "Elder Marcus, the Abbot has put this matter in our hands. If we mishandle it and this worthless boy tries to kill himself again, and his parents spread the word that we drove their son to suicide—would that not be degrading? Can you take responsibility? If you can, then I wash my hands of it."
The middle-aged man quickly tried to mediate. "Enough. Let's not quarrel over such a small matter. Let's accept him as a servant monk. After ten or twenty years, when he still hasn't made progress in the holy light, we can send him back. That will avoid future problems. Is that not an excellent solution?"
The embroidered-robed elder suddenly said, "What if other rejected children imitate him? What then?"
The middle-aged man smiled. "That's easy. After this incident, we've learned our lesson. From now on, we will use a minor hypnotic spell on all rejected children to plant the idea that they should not harm themselves. As for this Martin, since it has come to this, let's accept him. A single servant monk doesn't matter much."
Except for Elder Lawrence, the other two elders gave the middle-aged man meaningful looks and said nothing.
The middle-aged man smiled to himself. Martin, Martin, I've done all I can for you. The piece of fine iron your uncle gave me, I won't refuse. I am curious, though—how did a mortal come by such a material?
He did not know that the fine iron was something Uncle Frederick had once bought from a blacksmith. Frederick had recognized its value and brought it as a gift to help Martin get into the abbey. He had no idea what the material truly was.
A piece of fine iron changed Martin's fate. When he heard the news, he could hardly believe it. He had somehow been accepted as a servant monk.
Two days later, he sent his parents down the mountain. Watching their excited expressions, Martin felt genuine joy and resolved to work hard at the abbey.
But that resolve changed after his parents left.