The night was calm, yet sleep never came.

Shen Mu lay awake, staring at the wooden ceiling of his small home, his mind drifting to the events of the past few days. The traveler’s stories, the strange sensation in the stream, and the moment when time itself had seemed to hesitate in his presence. It was as if he had touched something beyond his understanding, yet it had slipped away before he could grasp it.

Finally, he rose from his bed. There was no point in forcing himself to sleep.

The village was silent as he stepped outside. The moon hung high, its pale glow casting long shadows across the rooftops. He walked toward the stream, drawn by an unspoken pull, his mind restless with questions.

As he reached the water’s edge, he crouched down, brushing his fingers just above the surface.

Something was different.

The water was clear—too clear. Even in the dim moonlight, he could see straight to the riverbed, every rock and ripple unnaturally sharp. It was not normal.

His brow furrowed slightly. Was this… something only he could see?

He turned his gaze upward.

The sky was strange as well. The stars were brighter than usual, as though they had been wiped clean of the usual haze. The moon, though full, seemed deeper, as if he could see layers within it that others could not.

Had it always been this way? Or had something changed?

Shen Mu’s eyes narrowed.

No.

Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

It was his sight that had changed.

His breath steadied, and for the first time, he wondered—had his eyes always been like this?

The next morning, the village was bustling as usual, yet something was different.

The air was heavier—not in a way one could touch, but as though something unseen pressed upon the land. The villagers felt it in different ways. Some were restless, others unusually silent.

Then, a murmur spread.

A stranger had arrived.

Shen Mu followed the hushed voices to the eastern gate, where a lone man stood, speaking with Uncle Huan. He was different from the usual travelers. His clothes were dark, embroidered with golden patterns, and he carried no cart, no wares.

The moment Shen Mu saw him, his vision shifted.

The air around the man shimmered, faint traces of something alive yet unseen surrounding him. It moved like a current, flowing through his body, circulating from the world itself into his very being.

For the first time, Shen Mu understood.

This was cultivation.

This was the energy of the world.

The man was no ordinary traveler—he was a cultivator.

And Shen Mu could see what others could not.

Uncle Huan’s voice was calm as he addressed the stranger. “It’s rare for people like you to pass through small villages like ours. What brings you here?”

The cultivator looked around, his gaze sharp. “There’s been a disturbance in the flow of energy. Something is shifting. I felt it on my journey and followed it here.”

Shen Mu’s heart remained steady, but his mind raced.

So he was not the only one who sensed it.

Uncle Huan nodded, his face unreadable. “We are just a simple village. Perhaps you are mistaken.”

The man studied him for a long moment before finally shaking his head. “Perhaps. But I will not stay long. I only wished to confirm something.”

With that, he turned and walked away, heading toward the road once more.

The villagers whispered among themselves, but Shen Mu remained silent.

As Uncle Huan dismissed the gathering crowd, Shen Mu approached him. The village head gave him a look—one of careful calculation.

“You felt something just now, didn’t you?”

Shen Mu met his gaze. He did not answer, but the silence was enough.

No. I didn’t feel it.

I saw it.

Uncle Huan sighed. “Come to my house later.”

That evening, Shen Mu entered Uncle Huan’s home.

The old man sat near the fire, his expression thoughtful.

“I don’t know how much you understand yet, but I won’t ask. I will only tell you this—what you saw today, that man, the way he carried himself… That was the energy of the world. And if you saw something more than the rest of us, then you are already walking a path most do not.”

Shen Mu did not speak.

Uncle Huan exhaled. “You are not ordinary, Shen Mu. I’ve always known that.”

A beat of silence passed before Uncle Huan leaned forward slightly. “Tell me. Have your eyes always been like that?”

Shen Mu’s fingers twitched slightly, but he did not answer immediately.

Because for the first time in his life, he wasn’t sure.