Shen Mu’s steps were slow and measured as he made his way through the village. The dirt paths were as familiar as always, the scent of freshly tilled earth drifting in the breeze. Yet, despite the unchanged scenery, something felt different.
It was subtle—something the villagers couldn’t quite put into words. But they felt it.
The conversations in the village had shifted in the past few days. People spoke in hushed voices, exchanging uneasy glances. They weren’t sure what had changed, but they knew something had. It was like a strange undercurrent flowing beneath their daily lives, a feeling they couldn’t name.
Shen Mu had noticed it too. But unlike the villagers, he wasn’t merely sensing a shift—he could see it.
The world was stirring.
Not for him specifically, but for everyone.
For the first time, the energy that had always surrounded them felt alive. Not just some invisible force cultivators spoke of, but something real, something tangible. It moved in unseen currents, pulsing faintly as if the land itself had begun to breathe.
He wasn’t sure what it meant. He wasn’t even sure if it meant anything at all. But he was part of it, whether he liked it or not.
A few feet ahead, a group of villagers stood by the well, their voices lowered in conversation.
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“I swear, I can feel it,” one of the older men muttered. “Like the air is… heavier.”
“You’re not imagining things,” another replied. “The animals feel it too. My dog won’t stop growling at the sky at night. And the birds—listen—there aren’t as many calls as there used to be.”
A third man, younger, scoffed. “It’s just the weather changing. You lot are overthinking things.”
“Maybe.” The first man sighed, glancing toward the fields. “But it doesn’t feel normal.”
Shen Mu remained silent as he passed by them. He could understand their unease. Even if they didn’t know what was happening, they could feel it.
Later that evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Shen Mu found himself sitting outside the village chief’s home. He hadn’t planned to visit, but his feet had led him there anyway.
The old man sat in his usual spot, pipe in hand, gazing at the fading light.
“You’ve noticed it, haven’t you?” The village chief’s voice was calm, but there was a weight behind his words.
Shen Mu didn’t answer right away. He simply sat down across from him, letting the silence stretch between them.
The chief took a slow puff from his pipe before speaking again. “The land is shifting. The energy—it’s changing.”
“Why?” Shen Mu finally asked.
The old man chuckled. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t be sitting here in this village, would I?” He exhaled a thin stream of smoke, his eyes distant. “The world gives, the world takes. Change isn’t always something that happens suddenly. Sometimes, it builds, layer by layer, until one day, you wake up, and everything is different.”
Shen Mu frowned slightly, staring at the darkening sky. “So you don’t know what’s causing it.”
The chief shook his head. “I can only guess. Maybe the world is preparing for something. Maybe it’s trying to balance itself. Or maybe… it’s simply the nature of things. Change comes, whether we seek it or not.”
Shen Mu remained quiet, his thoughts tangled.
The old man studied him for a moment before speaking again. “You’ve always been different, Shen Mu. Always watching, always listening. But there’s a difference between knowing and understanding.”
Shen Mu looked at him, waiting.
“You’ve spent years observing,” the village chief continued. “But some things… you can’t understand just by looking.”
Shen Mu’s fingers curled slightly over his knee. He knew what the elder meant. He had always been an observer—but now, for the first time, he was considering something else.
A thought formed in his mind, unspoken.
Maybe it was time to reach out. Not just to see—but to touch.
That night, as he lay staring at the ceiling of his small home, Shen Mu couldn’t shake the feeling that the village chief was right.
If the world was changing… should he change with it?