Crossing the town gate felt less like entering shelter and more like stepping into a current.
Chen Yu sensed it immediately.
The air inside the walls moved differently—not in wind, but in rhythm. Voices overlapped without clashing. Footsteps wove together instead of colliding. Even the animals seemed to know when to slow and when to press forward.
This town was not large, but it was settled.
Yan led the caravan inward, speaking briefly with the gate guards before guiding the wagons toward a wide street lined with wooden buildings and cloth awnings. Symbols were painted on many doors—simple shapes, repeated patterns, none identical yet all following similar logic.
Chen Yu noted them carefully.
Not decoration.
Classification.
The caravan dispersed gradually, families peeling off toward inns or known residences. Goods were unloaded with practised familiarity. Yan dismounted and gestured for Chen Yu to follow.
They stopped before a modest building with a slanted roof and a hanging sign carved with a bowl and three lines beneath it.
Yan pointed. Then mimed eating.
An inn.
Chen Yu inclined his head in thanks.
Inside, warmth wrapped around him—smoke, oil, and simmering broth blending into a smell that felt lived-in rather than inviting. Patrons sat at low tables, eating quietly or speaking in restrained tones. No one shouted. No one laughed loudly.
Eyes turned toward Chen Yu.
They lingered.
Then moved on.
Curiosity without alarm.
Yan spoke briefly with the innkeeper, a woman with sharp eyes and weathered hands. She glanced at Chen Yu, then nodded once and gestured toward a bench near the wall.
Yan placed a small pouch on the counter—payment, evidently—and said a few more words before turning to Chen Yu.
He tapped his chest, then pointed toward the street, then made a small circling motion with his finger.
I'll return.
Chen Yu bowed slightly.
Yan hesitated, then returned the gesture—awkwardly, but sincerely.
Left alone, Chen Yu sat and waited.
He did not rush to explore.
Learning began with stillness.
As food was placed before him—a bowl of thick stew and coarse bread—Chen Yu watched how others ate, mimicking their pace and manner. The flavours were unfamiliar but grounding. Each bite settled comfortably, as if his body recognised nourishment here without resistance.
That, too, he noted.
Language surrounded him like flowing water. He did not understand words, but patterns emerged—repeated sounds for directions, exchanges for goods, sharper tones for warnings or disagreement.
He listened.
Within him, something shifted.
Not unlocking.
Aligning.
By afternoon, he ventured outside.
The town unfolded gradually. Narrow alleys opened into wider squares. Workshops lined one side of the road—smiths, cloth-makers, carpenters. On another street, stalls sold dried herbs, powders, stones etched with faint markings.
Chen Yu slowed near one such stall.
The stones were unremarkable at first glance, but when he focused, he sensed faint inconsistencies. Not energy.
Intent.
The vendor noticed his interest and said something animatedly, lifting one stone and tapping it twice.
Chen Yu smiled apologetically and shook his head, indicating he did not understand.
The vendor frowned, then laughed, waving him off with exaggerated gestures.
Chen Yu stepped back, heart steady.
He had felt it clearly.
There was more to this world than trade.
But it hid itself well.
Near dusk, Yan returned.
This time, he was accompanied by another man—slimmer, younger, eyes sharp with appraisal rather than suspicion. The man studied Chen Yu openly, circling him once before speaking rapidly to Yan.
Yan responded with a short, firm sentence.
The younger man shrugged and turned to Chen Yu, pointing at his ears, then his mouth.
Chen Yu understood.
Language.
Chen Yu nodded eagerly.
The man introduced himself—slowly, clearly.
"Shen… Lu."
Chen Yu repeated it.
Shen Lu smiled faintly, then gestured for Chen Yu to follow.
They walked through quieter streets toward the town's edge, stopping at a small courtyard enclosed by low walls. Inside, children sat around a simple wooden board etched with symbols, while an elderly man traced characters slowly with a stick.
Shen Lu spoke briefly with the elder, then beckoned Chen Yu forward.
The elder looked up, eyes cloudy but focused.
He tapped the board, then tapped Chen Yu's chest.
Chen Yu knelt.
What followed was not teaching.
It was testing.
The elder spoke a word, then pointed to an object.
Chen Yu watched the elder's hand. The angle of his wrist. The pause before sound.
He answered incorrectly at first.
The elder corrected him without frustration.
Again.
And again.
Hours passed unnoticed.
Something within Chen Yu loosened—not knowledge flooding in, but pathways forming. Sounds began to separate themselves cleanly. Meaning attached slowly, cautiously.
By nightfall, Chen Yu could identify basic words.
Water.
Food.
Road.
People.
The elder dismissed him with a wave.
Shen Lu clapped Chen Yu lightly on the shoulder, clearly impressed.
On the way back, Shen Lu spoke more freely now, using simple phrases Chen Yu could follow with effort. He pointed toward the distant direction of the ruins and said a word that carried weight.
"Forbidden."
Then he gestured upward, drawing a rough arc in the air, before pointing back to the ground.
Chen Yu caught the implication.
Heaven and Earth.
Rules.
Boundaries.
Shen Lu glanced at Chen Yu carefully. "You… not afraid?"
Chen Yu considered the question.
Then he shook his head.
"Careful," he said, choosing the word deliberately.
Shen Lu laughed, surprised, and nodded.
"Careful is good."
That night, Chen Yu lay awake in the inn.
The town's sounds seeped through the walls—footsteps, murmured conversations, distant bells. Life continued, indifferent to his arrival.
Within him, the sealed fragments remained silent.
But something else stirred.
Not power.
Direction.
He understood now why the ruins lay untouched.
Why did the caravan skirt them?
Why did the town exist where it did?
This was a threshold place.
A buffer between what should not be disturbed—
And those who lived close enough to feel its breath.
Chen Yu closed his eyes.
He had crossed worlds without understanding.
Now, he would learn this one—
Slowly.
Correctly.
From the ground up.
And when the time came to step beyond—
He would know why.
End of Chapter 8