Chapter 33

I woke to the sound of birds chirping. Sunlight streamed through the window and I could hear people moving about in the street outside. I pulled myself up out of bed, still groggy from my sleepless night. I expected to feel the deep, bone-deep ache but was pleasantly surprised when everything felt relatively okay. The only issue was my internal Qi. It was still depleted, but I knew that was expected. Meditation would restore my reserves in time. I just hadn’t bothered last night. I’d been too tired, too weighed down by everything that had happened… and too distracted by the new quest the system had handed me. It made it impossible to clear my mind.

I looked over at the side of the bed. My sabre lay there, along with my dagger and a folded pair of clothes. I was still in my bloodied robes, the fabric stiff in places where the blood had dried. I decided to head down to the wash room and clean up before doing anything else.

The water was cold but refreshing, something I’d grown used to since arriving in this world. Strangely enough, I didn’t miss hot water anymore. As I scrubbed the dried blood from my skin, I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection. That’s when I noticed my scars. Or rather, the lack of them. They were still there, faint, pale lines along my arms and chest, but most had faded to near invisibility. A big difference to the first day I’d found myself in this place, covered in roughly healed wounds and dried blood.

Once I was clean, I pulled on the new set of robes. They weren’t actually new, I could see the worn stitching along the hem and faint pulling along the sleeves but they were new to me. And much cleaner than my old pair. They were a deep, dark blue with a simple white thread embroidered around the cuffs.

I stepped outside through the gaping hole where the front door had once been, the frame splintered and sagging slightly at the edges. Morning light spilled over the village in soft sheets, catching on damp rooftops and broken buildings. The rain had passed, but the scent of wet ash still lingered. All around me, villagers moved about in quiet coordination, gathering debris, stacking timber, cleaning what they could. Some worked in silence. Others moved with tears in their eyes, sleeves drawn hastily across their faces when they thought no one was watching.

It made it hard to look at them for long. And I felt invasive with my enhanced senses catching everything.

I kept my head down and walked over to a pile of collapsed boards, joining an elder man who was sorting through shattered beams. We worked without speaking, side by side. Every now and then he grunted and adjusted the pile, gesturing to what could be salvaged. I followed his lead, letting the repetition dull the edges of my thoughts.

Nearly an hour passed before Elder Kai appeared, his limp pronounced but his expression steady. He looked worn, more so than usual, but not defeated. His bandaged knee stiffened with every step, but he didn’t complain.

“Morning, Fang Wu,” he said. “You don’t need to be doing this. You should be resting. Healing.”

I straightened, brushing wood dust from my palms. “Surprisingly, my body’s fine,” I said, not quite meeting his gaze. “That pill helped… more than I expected.”

He nodded once, slowly. “Indeed it did. Who would have thought an outsider would be the one to save the village?”

His words caught me off guard. I shifted my weight slightly, unsure what to say.

Did I really save the village?

I glanced around. The broken homes. The scorched rooftops. The bodies that had already been carried away. It didn’t feel like a victory. That Spirit Beast had been strong but it hadn’t pushed me to the edge like other beasts did when I first arrived here. So either the beast wasn’t as strong as I thought… or I’d grown.

Had I changed that much?

If I had been out with the villagers from the start, then maybe it would have been a victory.

“I’m not so sure I saved anyone,” I said after a moment, gesturing around at the damage. “But I’m glad I was able to help.”

Elder Kai didn’t argue. He only studied me for a long moment, then gave the faintest nod. I saw the corners of his mouth twitch downward.

I hesitated. “Speaking of outsiders… where’s that merchant? Things were too chaotic yesterday. I never got the chance to speak with him, properly. I still owe him for the pill.”

Elder Kai’s face darkened. “That man,” he muttered. “I don’t trust him. There’s something off. And he’s gone. Vanished before the beast wave even reached us.”

“Gone?” I asked. “How?”

Kai grimaced. “No one saw him leave, but he’s not here. I think he ran. Took most the villages coin and slipped away before it got bad. Coward.”

That didn’t sit right. There was only one way out of the village and it was through the beast wave atlas that’s what he said.

Had he snuck out before the attack? Or was there another way? Could I really trust anything he said. But he was right about when the beast wave would hit…

Either way, next time I saw him, I’d need to be cautious. He was more than he appeared. That much was obvious now. And while he had saved my life… I wasn’t sure I’d pay him back without weighing the terms. It had to be an even trade. And that, honestly, might be impossible. Because if I was being honest with myself that pill may have been the only reason I was still breathing.

Before I could say more, a shout rang out from the front gate.

“We have company! Get the elders!”

One of the younger hunters was already sprinting toward the sect building. Elder Kai turned immediately, eyes narrowing.

“What is it?” he called out.

The hunter slowed, panting. “Cultivators,” he said, voice low and bitter. “Walking straight toward the gate.”

He spat into the dirt, as if the word itself left a bad taste in his mouth.

Elder Kai’s expression turned unreadable, but I saw his shoulders tense beneath his robes.

So. They had finally decided to show up.

We made our way to the gate, joined by the rest of the villagers nearby. Most of them were bruised and battered but they still came. Curiosity and fear, after all, were great motivators.

I noticed the way their gazes lingered on me before flicking away. Like I was something they couldn’t quite look at directly. A saviour, maybe. Or something close enough to it that they didn’t know how to act. When I was younger, I would have dreamed of that look—of people seeing me as someone worth admiring.

Now… it just made my skin crawl.

I kept my head down and moved through the thinning crowd. We came into view of the rice field near the gate, or what was left of it. The stalks were crushed and splintered. The earth had been churned to mud. I wondered if Wei Lin’s farm had fared any better, though I already knew the answer. His land backed against the forest. It was probably worse.

Two figures approached along the muddy path leading into the village.

Their robes were clean, unwrinkled, the pale blue silk catching the early sun like water under starlight. They walked with that easy, arrogant grace I’d come to associate with the powerful—shoulders back, eyes sharp, not a hint of rush in their step.

As they drew closer, I took in their faces. The woman looked young, maybe twenty at most. Her hair was tied back into a smooth braid, dark as night, and her sword hung with ceremonial precision at her side.

Beside her walked a man I recognized instantly.

He was the one from before. The arrogant cultivator who’d beaten the elder in front of the entire village. A display of superiority, he’d called it. I already thought he was a bastard then. Now, seeing him again, striding through the ruins like he had a claim on the place, I felt the anger rise all over again.

So these were Fallen Mists protectors.

They showed up after the bodies had been moved and the threat was gone. Convenient.

At least on Earth, the hunters showed up when the rift opened, not after it had collapsed.

The woman stepped forward first, offering a respectful nod as her eyes swept the damage. Her voice was calm, even. “We came as soon as word reached the sect. I apologize that we were not here sooner.”

I didn’t scoff but it was a near thing. She was polite, sure. But that didn’t change the fact that they hadn’t come when it actually mattered.

The villagers parted around us as the four elders arrived. Each one of them paused when their gaze passed over me, lingering just a heartbeat too long. I didn’t like it.

Elder Tian was the first to speak, stepping forward with arms crossed and no effort made to hide the bitterness in his voice.

“Nice of you to show yourselves,” he said. “You’re just in time to see the aftermath.”

The elder woman beside him—Elder Yun, if I remembered her name right—offered a stiff bow, face etched with fatigue and grief.

“I apologize for my counterpart, honored cultivators,” she said. “These are trying days. We have lost over fifty villagers. It will take us a long time to recover.”

The male cultivator sneered.

“I’ll let you off this once, old man,” he said, stepping forward, the threat in his voice barely veiled. “Next time, I’ll take your tongue.”

The woman’s eyes flicked to him with something unreadable in them. Then she offered a soft smile and turned her attention to the damaged village behind us.

“And what’s this we have here?” she murmured, voice cool and composed as her gaze settled on the corpse of the Spirit Beast, still lying where it had fallen. “It seems your village is more capable than it appears.”

Her words were smooth, almost complimentary. But I could hear the undertone in them—the quiet disbelief. The unsaid ‘how did you manage this?’

She turned back to the elders, one brow lifting slightly on her too perfect face, the question already on her lips before she asked it.

“Who was responsible for its death?”

The silence that followed stretched, thick and uncomfortable.

Then the oldest of the elders, a man hunched with age, cleared his throat and stepped forward.

“We were fortunate,” he rasped. “A wandering cultivator offered his aid. Without him, we would not have survived.”

The female cultivator smiled faintly, her attention already shifting.

“Oh?” she asked, though it was clear her eyes had already found me. “And who might this cultivator be?”

My pulse jumped. When she made eye contact.

The old man nodded, turning to gesture toward me. “Yes. If it weren’t for young master Fang Wu here…” he paused, eyes dark and thoughtful, “…I’d hate to imagine what would have become of us.”

She studied me for a moment, then smiled faintly. “How kind of you. And for someone who has only just taken their first steps on the path… what a feat.” Her voice was smooth and gentle.

I held her gaze, saying nothing but unable to look away.

The male cultivator stepped forward, robes swaying. His lip curled. “Bow when addressed by your betters. Do you not know how to show proper respect?”

I didn’t move. Not an inch.

The man’s sneer deepened and he took another step, but the woman lifted a hand. “That’s enough, Han Jinhai.” Her tone was calm, but carried the unmistakable ring of command. “He’s only just stepped onto the path. Courtesy must be taught, not demanded. Especially when he is unaware.”

Han Jinhai stepped back reluctantly, though the sneer never left his face. His eyes stayed on me, sharp and bitter, like I’d insulted him just by breathing the same air.

I didn’t look away. Why should I? Just because they were cultivators? So was I now—even if barely. And more importantly, what had they done? Nothing. They hadn’t protected the village. They hadn’t fought. They hadn’t bled with the rest of us. They’d arrived once it was over, pristine and curious, like they were observers at a play and we were the spectacle.

Respect wasn’t owed. It was earned. At least that’s what my father taught me.

The woman turned her attention back to the elders, a courteous smile returning to her lips. “Forgive my companion,” she said smoothly. “Where are my manners? I am Yue Qian, Elder of the Fallen Mist Sect.” She gestured lightly to her counterpart. “This is Han Jinhai, also of the sect.”

The elders bowed again, more deeply this time. The older woman, the same one who had calmed Elder Tian earlier, stepped forward. “Honoured cultivators, your presence is a blessing. Please forgive any… emotional outbursts. These past days have tested us all.”

Yue Qian inclined her head in understanding. “I understand. And your losses are not unnoticed. That is, in part, why we’re here. The sect has taken an interest in this village. There is potential here, potential that should not go to waste.”

That got everyone’s attention.

She let the silence linger just long enough before continuing. “We have been authorized to test for cultivation aptitude among the youth. Any with promise will be given a chance to join the sect and walk the true path.”

“If you would please prepare a room for us, you would have my thanks. We will start the testing in the evening.”

The elders immediately sprang into motion, offering to prepare a space in the sect building. Someone ran off to fetch tea and cushions. It was a flurry of movement and deference.

I stood still through it all, watching. It baffled me how everyone bowed to these people. Were they truly so great to get this kind of respect for doing nothing.

Yue Qian turned toward me again, her gaze thoughtful. “Of course,” she added, “we would be remiss if we didn’t first properly acknowledge the one who stood against a Spirit Beast. Thank you for your help. I’d love to speak with you at some point about it. It’s not often I get to meet another cultivator walking a different path than mine.”

My jaw tightened. I didn’t want her praise. But still I nodded and stepped away from the gathering.

I walked through the muddy farm and off into the distance. I didn’t know where I was going, at least not consciously but my feet took me toward the edge of the village. And I continued until I arrived at Wei Lins farm.

The field was ruined. Worse than I expected. The paddies were trampled beyond recognition, stalks mashed into the earth, water stained red and brown. His family had tended this land for years. Generations, maybe. And now it was just more wreckage.

I stepped down into the center of the field. The soil was soft, and the scent of damp earth filled the air. I lowered myself slowly, letting my weight sink into the torn roots and broken stalks.

Then I sat.

And I breathed.

I drew in the air, steady and slow, the way the Emberstorm Scroll had instructed. Through the nose. Deep into the lungs. Let the breath settle. Then push the Qi, even if there was little to move.

The world dulled as I focused.

Inhale.

Exhale.

And here, in the wreckage, away from eyes and judgment and politics… I could finally think.

The villagers had looked at me like I was a saviour. The cultivators looked at me like a tool. Neither sat well. I wasn’t here to be worshipped or used.

I just wanted answers.

And power.

I let the thought fade as I continued to breathe, letting my Qi swirl slowly through my meridian’s, and settle in my dantian.

The wind shifted slightly, brushing through the broken field like a sigh.

And I meditated, alone among the ruins.