The village was alive with the usual sounds—children shouting and playing, merchants hawking their wares, the soft clink of tools from the blacksmith’s shop. Yet, as always, Shen Mu’s attention drifted beyond the chaos of everyday life. His eyes followed the smallest of details—the way the wind lifted the leaves on the trees, the way the dust danced in the sunbeams, the subtle shifts in the world around him that most people didn’t even notice.
To anyone else, it would have seemed like he was simply watching life pass by. But Shen Mu knew better. He was searching for something deeper, something beyond the surface of the world.
The air itself felt alive to him, shifting and moving in a way that he couldn’t quite describe. It wasn’t the same as the subtle vibrations he’d felt in the past, when he could sense the energy of the world but didn’t understand it. Now, there was something new—an undercurrent, a presence that he could see but couldn’t touch. It was as if the world was made up of invisible threads, strands of energy that connected everything in existence.
Shen Mu looked at the stream nearby, his mind wandering through the patterns in the water. The energy in the water moved in a way that felt deliberate, as if it was responding to something unseen, something beneath the surface.
He smiled to himself and muttered softly, “Let’s call this… The Whisper.”
He didn’t know why he said it, but it felt right. The way the energy whispered through the world—silent, subtle, and yet ever-present—it felt like the right name for it.
He sat on the bank of the stream, his legs dangling in the water as he continued to watch the flow. It wasn’t power, not yet. But it was something, a force he could sense and, in some small way, begin to interact with.
The air hummed with a strange energy. Shen Mu’s fingers twitched as if drawn to the current. Slowly, almost without thinking, he extended his hand, hovering over the water. There was a faint tug, a pressure that he couldn’t explain. It was like reaching out into a fog, feeling for something invisible, trying to hold onto a fleeting thought.
The water shifted, just slightly, rippling in response to his presence. His breath caught.
It wasn’t a grand feat, but it was the first step.
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Later that evening, as Shen Mu wandered back through the village, he noticed the growing unease in the villagers. There was a restlessness in the air—something was different, but no one knew exactly what.
As he passed a small group by the well, he overheard a conversation between the village elders. They were talking in hushed tones, as if trying to make sense of something that didn’t quite fit.
“You’ve heard the rumors, haven’t you?” one of the old men asked. “The cultivators have been saying that the energy in the mountains is strange. Something’s wrong.”
“The flow of power is disturbed,” another elder murmured. “The energy in the land doesn’t feel right. Not like before.”
One of the younger men, clearly confused, scratched his head. “What do you mean, ‘the flow of energy’? That doesn’t make sense.” He looked at the others. “What does that even mean? I’m no cultivator, so how can I know what’s wrong with the flow of energy?”
The elder who had been speaking before let out a long sigh. “I don’t know, either. All I know is that the cultivator said it, and he’s never wrong about these things. But that’s all I can tell you.”
Another elder, more reserved, added, “It’s just gibberish to us. We’re just simple villagers. How would we know what they’re talking about?”
Shen Mu stood a bit away from them, listening, his curiosity piqued. The elders seemed unsettled, but none of them truly understood what was being said. For a moment, he could almost sense their frustration—it wasn’t fear, just confusion. They didn’t have the words to explain it, but they could feel something was wrong with the land.
One of the older men mumbled, “I’ve heard the mountain beasts are acting strange, too. Some of them are leaving their territories, coming closer to the village. It feels like… the land is changing, but we don’t know how or why.”
Shen Mu’s brow furrowed. The village was surrounded by mountains, and the air around them felt different—darker, heavier somehow. Could it have something to do with the energy they were all talking about? Or was it something deeper?
“I don’t know what any of this means,” one of the villagers said with a sigh, shaking his head. “But the cultivator seemed worried. And when someone like him is worried… it makes me feel uneasy.”
Shen Mu paused for a moment, considering their words. The cultivator had spoken about the disturbance in the land. But the villagers had no real understanding of the deeper meaning behind his words. For them, it was nothing more than abstract whispers from a world they couldn’t touch.
Shen Mu glanced at the village chief, standing nearby, who was listening intently to the conversation. Shen Mu couldn’t help but notice the way the village chief’s eyes narrowed as he thought. He had known this village for so long, but there was something different about him—something Shen Mu couldn’t quite place.
The village chief turned to him, as if sensing his curiosity. “You’ve been listening, haven’t you?” he asked, his voice low but calm.
Shen Mu nodded. “I heard them talking about the energy in the mountains. But… they don’t understand it.”
The village chief’s eyes softened for a moment before he replied, “They wouldn’t. They don’t have the experience to see things for what they are. They’re just mortals.” He paused, looking at Shen Mu closely. “But you… you’ve always had a way of looking at things differently. You’re more perceptive than they realize.”
Shen Mu felt a twinge of something, but he couldn’t tell what. Was there more to the village chief than met the eye? He had never been one to show his hand too quickly, but Shen Mu could tell that this man knew more than he was letting on.