Chin grumbled then turned away. He couldn’t really see the fight, so I had given him a bit of aid, strengthening his senses so that he could observe the whole thing.

But once Gai Jin had finished praying and started to bury the corpse, he became completely uninterested.

“He’s a good kid,” Chin muttered, already turning his enhanced sight to the farmlands.

“He’s older than you,” I replied.

“Still a kid,” he answered. “That damn thunderstorm better not have flooded the lowlands. We weren’t expecting that much rain. Dalther, go and grab the others and do a pass by of the farmland. Melo, go gather some of the teachers and take them to Renk, gods know he’ll be drowning in messages. He’ll need help writing it all down and sending it all back. Go to the alchemists and see if they have anything to increase focus. Send that up to them as well, tell them to come to Fulim for pay.”

The two men nodded and went off towards their duties.

“The merchants are stompin’ up a storm Mister Chin, what do we do?” Someone asked.

I project a bit of aura toward the merchant camp's direction. Something annoyed and firm.

The merchants all quieted down real quick.

“They’re quiet now,” I said with a nod.

The villager gave me a nod back and turned away.

The people of the village still didn’t feel comfortable around me, but they were warming up. Chin’s family was completely used to me by now, even Renk. But the people here had only seen the mask I wore for the sects. I was becoming a bit of a celebrity in the area.

From old cultivators to hidden immortals, lots of talks, myths, and whispers.

It didn’t bother me, but the people were stirring with rumors.

Chin kept issuing orders, even dragging the girls over, particularly Mei Shan.

“Well, what do you think we should do about this whole thing?” Chin asked her.

He had explained his concerns. Chin was worried about the influx of cultivators that might come to the village after the fight. He didn’t know how such things would impact him so he wanted advice.

“Nothing,” Mei Shan replied.

“Nothing?” Chin asked.

“Nothing,” Mei Shan repeated. “This new immortal won’t be staying here. He’ll probably go back and manage his own sect. And that will draw most of the attention to his region for the most part.

“Will it now?” Chin said with an unmistakable happy note in his voice.

“Yup, everybody will want to go and play with the cool new immortal instead of the old broken one. But I have to go talk to him before that can happen.”

“What about?” Chin questioned. “He ain’t staying here.”

“Just some personal stuff,” I answered.

Having said that, I teleported over to where the monk was.

He was in the midst of burying his master, and new immortal qi flowed through him fresh and volatile.

“You busy?” I asked.

“I’m burying the dead,” he replied.

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He was using his hands, moving dirt by the handful and resting it over his dead master. He could have used qi or telekinesis to speed up the process, but he didn’t. There was meaning to this simple task, something holy and personal.

I sighed and clutched my own handful of sand, slowly resting it over the dead body. We worked at a mortal pace and with the both of us, it took just over one hour to finish. A mound of dirt rose up to our waist by the end of it.

The monk clasped his hands and prayed, and I did the same.

“He was… my master you know,” Gai Jin started.

Oh no, the guy thought I was here for a backstory.

“Yeah I know,” I replied.

“He raised me. Taught me all I knew. But-”

“He killed your older sister and tossed you in a cave, I know.”

Gai Jin's fists clenched as he turned to me.

Now there was weariness in his eyes. Weariness and strength. He was an immortal now and he knew I was as well.

“Do I know you?” He asked.

“No, but she does,” I replied, pointing towards the valley.

“Who-”

His senses ran through the place. I had already hidden Rin Wi and Nai was also with her.

But even if they weren’t Gai Jin might have missed them. His senses locked onto one person and one person only.

He blurred, running through the distance in an instant.

********

In the village, in a newly built whorehouse, sat a woman. A woman who had just been warned a little over an hour ago to meet her older brother.

She was starting to get worried at how long it took. Or at least that was what she told herself. Really, everything worried her. If she wanted to even start counting her anxieties, she’d get anxious wondering where to start.

Centuries worth of worry was on her. Her brother, Gai Jin. Her brother, the immortal. She had seen the fight from the distance, and what was she to do? She could only beg and pray that Gai Jin would live.

But not only had he lived…he had won. Gai Jin had defeated Gai Lui. Gai Lui, who was the demon of her life, the villain of her nightmares. The man she had feared and snuck around for centuries…was dead.

It felt like a dream, and she was desperately afraid of waking.

Then the air exploded.

Madam Rose yelped as she was blown backward. There was a hole in her wall and wooden debris floated through the air.

“Lui Yong?” A voice asked.

She froze.

“Gai… Gai Jin?”

The man walked up to her, stumbling through the dust.

“How?” He questioned.

“I…cultivated,” she replied.

“Oh.”

For a moment, there was awkwardness. Not awkwardness born of miscommunication, but one born of time and change.

Two strangers stared at each other, trying to remember who they were. A layer of centuries separated them, lifetimes of change. How could they know each other? He was an immortal now and she was a cultivator.

They were the same age but she looked closer to her mid-thirties and he still looked like a youth in his twenties.

He had slayed demons and became a legend and she had traveled the land and met many people.

How could they remember their moments together? How could they remember who they were?

But that was the beautiful thing about pain. Even if you forgot what you missed, even if someday you couldn’t remember your dead mother’s face, you still remembered the day she died.

Pain was the hole in your heart, and even if you forgot what was in the hole, you knew you missed it dearly. Whatever had been there was a part of you, a piece that you cared for more than anything in the world.

And that pain was much harder to forget.

Gai Jin walked and grabbed his younger sister. His mind remembered moments but his soul remembered regret. He remembered regret within the cave, having been in there for a whole century and wondering where she was. He remembered wondering if Gai Lui had killed her. He remembered wondering if she had gotten old and died.

He hadn’t been strong enough to leave back then, still being stuck in the fourth realm.

He remembered piling up a small grave for her after a hundred and thirty years within the cave, thinking, She must have passed by now. No mortal can live this long.

Shame, sadness, guilt, mourning.

He remembered the weight of her, the outline of her absence.

“Lui Yong,” he whimpered. “Lui Yong.”

He kept repeating her name, his arms still wrapped around her.

“Little Lui, you’re still here.”

Lui Yong hugged him back. A threat of sobbing prevented her from speaking, so she clenched the back of his tattered robes and silently let her tears fall.

A certain immortal kept quiet from the distance. This wasn’t his place or his moment. He ignored the building and prevented any other nosey senses from peaking in.

After some time, Lui Yong started crying. Apparently, not even silence could dam up lifetimes’ worth of pain.

And for a few minutes, there were no words, just acceptance.

They were alive, and they were here.

After that the two began talking, stumbling their way through an awkward conversation. It was strange and long. Gai Jin was still learning how to talk with people after centuries of silence, and Lui Yong was rediscovering the man who was her brother.

But she was also trying to understand everything else he was. A warrior, a fighter, an immortal. He was so much more than when she had last known him, and she was the same.

The world did not change. It didn’t suddenly become kinder or brighter for the existence of one person.

But still, it felt kinder and brighter. The world had not changed, but their world had.