That night, Lian spent hours lying on his back, staring at the sky.
He replayed the upcoming battle again and again in his mind, each movement sharper than the last.
With nothing left to distract him, his thoughts flooded in.
"Mother… Father… I will make you proud," he whispered to himself, clenching his fist.
Restless and unable to sleep, he eventually rose from his bed and slipped out of his quarters.
Moving carefully through the shadows, he snuck outside once more.
The town was bright and lively.
Lanterns glowed in warm colours, and crowds from all over the country filled the streets.
Row after row of candy stalls stretched into the distance, each one decorated with ribbons and sweet scents.
In the town square, Qingyi women performed their elegant dances.
Drunkards cheered and whistled, their faces flushed with wine and desire.
Ahead of him, an old man danced clumsily to the festive music, clapping his hands with surprising rhythm.
The man vanished into the crowd for a moment—
Then, suddenly appeared right beside Lian.
"Ha! Nephew, nephew!"
An elderly man tugged at Lian's sleeve. His robe was patched and worn, one toe poking out of a torn shoe.
Long white hair hung loosely over his shoulders, thinning in places. His teeth were crooked, but his grin was wide and full of mischief.
"Look, look what I have here!" the old man said proudly.
"I'll trade it for some bingtanghulu!"
He held up a piece of jade.
Old, grey, and cracked.
Yet carved with the elegant image of a soaring crane
Lian tried to peel the man off him, but the elder's grip was unbelievably tight. No matter how much he struggled, he couldn't break free.
"This man…? Is he a martial artist?" Lian wondered, eyes widening.
"Okay, old man—fine, fine!" Lian said, trembling slightly.
"That's a good boy. Here, here, take it," the old man said, shoving the jade into Lian's hands.
This old man is far too strange. I'll just buy him his bingtanghulu and run away from here, Lian thought.
The old man dragged him through the festival stalls until they reached a quiet corner. Unlike the others, this candy stall had no customers at all.
"Give me three bingtanghulu," Lian said, pulling out his pouch.
"That'll be five hundred taels," the stall owner said casually.
"What!!! What kind of robbery is this!?" Lian shouted.
"Old man, let's go somewhere es…"
But before he could turn around, the old man grabbed him again, yanking him back.
A soft thud hit the back of Lian's hands as his pouch flew into the air.
The old man snatched it mid-flight, scooped out the coins, then tossed the empty pouch back to Lian as if nothing had happened.
He received the sweets and immediately devoured them, chewing like a starving beast.
"Haaa…" he sighed in pure satisfaction, while Lian stared at him in horror.
"Old man! Give me back my money!"
"Heehee… A monkey fishing for the moon," the old man cackled.
Then—
He leapt straight onto the rooftop, landing lightly before sprinting across the rooftops, leaving Lian frozen in shock.
"Hey! Old man—come back here!" Lian shouted, leaping onto the tiled roof.
The old man hopped to the next rooftop with surprising agility.
Lian followed, the tiles cracking beneath his feet as he nearly slipped.
"Why is he so fast?" Lian thought, breathing heavily.
The chase continued—two figures racing across the rooftops like wandering spirits.
Below them, festival music rang brightly: zithers, drums, laughter, fireworks bursting in the sky.
"Young Lóng (Dragon) show me how much of your talent you have unlocked", the old man thought to himself.
Every time Lian got close, the old man would suddenly accelerate, rambling nonsense as he ran.
"I am not bound by Heaven! I forge my own path!" the old man shouted proudly, leaping off the roof's edge.
They had run far—too far.
By the time Lian landed, the town was gone from sight. The festival lights had vanished. They were now at the outskirts of the province, surrounded by quiet fields and distant mountains.
The old man pushed off the ground and began floating upward, walking on invisible steps.
"To know oneself is the beginning of wisdom," he said calmly.
Sitting on the Air.
Lain's eyes were wide, "void steps", he murmured to himself.
Then—
He vanished.
In the blink of an eye, he appeared behind Lian.
Thwack.
A gentle tap landed on the back of Lian's head—yet it felt as if his entire strength had been unplugged. His body went limp. He remained conscious… but unable to move a single muscle.
"W-wha—?"
Before he could finish, the old man grabbed him by the collar and leapt.
One bound, then another—each jump covering tens of meters.
Moments later, the scenery shifted again.
Lian blinked—and suddenly he was inside the Patriarch's pavilion.
"Mmm—mmm!"
He struggled, but nothing moved. Even his Qi wouldn't circulate.
sealed every channel in his body.
The old man crouched beside him and pointed.
"Old Xing… It's been too long," the drunken elder said as he poured palm wine into the Patriarch's cup.
The old man's white hair hung loosely over his shoulders, and his long beard swayed each time he laughed. His cheeks were rosy from the sheer amount of alcohol he'd already consumed.
"Yes… far too long," Patriarch Xing replied.
"The last time we met was when we got that Heavenly Dew from that little girl Bai Tang. Hahaha! That was the chance that got both of us into the Heavenly Sect."
The old men laughed loudly, shaking the room with a drunken cheer.
"To this day, I wonder where he got that heavenly treasure. Her family didn't look like much." The old man said, taking another sip.
"Yes, I had some of my men go there, but there wasn't much of a fight," Xing Said
"What a shame, though…" the elder muttered as he poured himself another cup.
"That boy of yours—Huǒ. Even if he was adopted, his talent was extraordinary."
Lian froze.
Huǒ? Adopted? What happened to my parents?
He stared down at them from above, still immobilised and unable to speak.
Patriarch Xing's expression darkened instantly.
He shot the elder a cold, warning look.
The old man choked mid-sip, coughing into his sleeve.
The Patriarch was young—well, young for the power he held—but he was already one of the strongest cultivators in the region. His long black hair flowed behind him, and his sharp eyes carried the dignity of a man who had climbed to the peak through will alone.
He said nothing for a moment.
Then he exhaled and muttered coldly:
"What is the point of talking about dead people? Drink and enjoy the night."
The old man nodded quickly, afraid to press further.
Then something clicked in Lian's mind.
These beasts… killed my parents.
The realisation exploded inside him like a storm.
Grief, rage, disbelief—everything surged at once. His Qi erupted uncontrollably, rampaging through his meridians like a mad beast.
"Hmm?"
The Patriarch frowned and looked upward, sensing a chaotic fluctuation.
But the moment he looked, there was nothing there.
The old man had already slipped away with Lian, vanishing before the Patriarch could detect anything.
"What is it, Xing?" the drunken elder asked, confused.
"…Nothing," the Patriarch replied, lowering his cup.
He stared at the ceiling for a long moment.
'Have I become too sensitive…?'
'Ha, my enemies would laugh at me.'
He snorted and took another long drink.
Meanwhile, far from the pavilion, the old man pressed two fingers on Lian's forehead.
Lian's rampaging Qi instantly calmed, dispersing as if swallowed by a void. His body relaxed, and he drifted into sleep.
The old man placed him gently on his bed, his expression unexpectedly soft.
"This is as much as I can help you, little Lóng (Dragon)…" he whispered.
"The rest—you must walk on your own."
His figure faded.
Then, like mist dissolving in the night wind, the old man disappeared completely.