The carriage rattled along the winding path, the rhythmic clatter of hooves and wheels a familiar lullaby to Ming Yu. But today, her peace was disturbed. Her son, Lin Yang, sat beside her, a towering figure of a boy at just fifteen. His 2-meter frame, already hinting at the powerful man he would become, usually filled her with pride. Today, however, his unnaturally cheerful demeanor, coupled with the unsettling events of the previous day – the strange tremor that had shaken their village and the hushed whispers of a falling star – filled her with unease.
"You seem very cheerful today, Lin Yang," she ventured, trying to keep her tone light and casual.
"I had a dream, Mother," he replied, his voice low and almost reverent, a stark contrast to his usual boisterous tone. "A dream about something… something that could change my life."
Ming Yu exchanged a worried glance with Uncle Zhou, their trusted carriage driver, whose weathered face reflected a lifetime of experience. "Oh?" she responded, forcing a smile. "Well, if you ever have any problems, remember that your mother is always here for you." She reached out and gently touched his arm, the muscles beneath his youthful skin surprisingly hard and defined.
As they journeyed deeper into the Whispering Woods, the dense canopy of trees casting long, dancing shadows across the path, Lin Yang suddenly exclaimed, "Uncle Zhou, please stop the carriage!"
He had spotted an elderly woman trudging wearily along the dusty road. Hunched over, she struggled with a large, unwieldy parcel wrapped in coarse burlap.
Lin Yang, with an agility that belied his considerable size, leaped from the carriage before it had fully stopped, his long legs eating up the distance between them in a few swift strides.
"Grandma," he said, his voice filled with an almost unnatural earnestness, "you can ride with us! That looks heavy." He reached out to take the parcel, his large hands, more suited to wielding farm tools than delicate tasks, surprisingly gentle as he took the weight.
"Thank you, young man," the old woman replied, her voice raspy but kind. "But my house is just ahead. I can walk. Even though I'm old, I'm still strong." A faint smile touched her wrinkled lips.
"Yes, I know you're strong," Lin Yang insisted, his eyes gleaming with an odd light. "Probably a hundred times stronger than me!" He exaggerated a wince, a comical gesture given his imposing stature.
"But seeing an old woman carrying such a heavy load makes me feel bad."
The old woman chuckled, a dry, rustling sound like autumn leaves skittering across dry earth.
"Alright, alright," she relented, finally handing him a corner of the parcel. It was surprisingly light, Ming Yu noted, observing from the carriage. Lin Yang, despite his size, handled it with surprising gentleness.
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
When they reached the carriage, Ming Yu alighted and offered her hand to assist the old woman.
She was surprisingly spry for her age, accepting Ming Yu's help with a grateful nod.
After a ten-minute ride, the old woman pointed towards a cluster of humble houses nestled amongst the trees. "My house is near," she said.
Uncle Zhou slowed the horse to a gentle trot and then halted. Lin Yang, still radiating an almost unsettling enthusiasm, jumped down first and then carefully helped the old woman descend.
The sight of the towering young man assisting the frail old woman was a stark study in contrasts.
"Thank you all," she said, her eyes crinkling at the corners. She turned to walk towards one of the houses.
"Wait, Grandma!" Lin Yang called out, his voice ringing with an unusual urgency.
"What is it, child?" The old woman paused, turning back to face him.
"Looks like Grandma forgot something," Lin Yang said, a playful smile tugging at his lips.
"Grandma has taken the package," she replied, lifting the parcel slightly to emphasize her point.
"Not that," Lin Yang said, stretching out his hand expectantly, palm up.
"Need to pay? Sorry, I forgot!" The old woman's eyes widened in mock surprise. She began to open the parcel, rummaging inside. Ming Yu frowned. What was Lin Yang doing?
"Lin Yang, don't bother Grandma!" Ming Yu said sharply, her voice laced with a touch of embarrassment. She saw the old woman pull out a few dull bronze coins.
"Lin Yang, get back in the carriage!" she ordered, her tone firm.
Seeing that it was only a single, unremarkable bronze coin, Lin Yang's face fell in disappointment. His earlier enthusiasm vanished, replaced by a petulant pout.
Hearing his mother's sharp tone, he reluctantly climbed back into the horse carriage, his earlier exuberance extinguished. He seemed to shrink in on himself, his large frame suddenly seeming less imposing, more… sullen.
"Sorry, Grandma," Ming Yu apologized for her son's behavior. The old woman simply smiled, a knowing glint in her eyes, and nodded.
Lin Yang was disappointed, not because of the meager bronze coin, but because he'd been wrong about the "pill," as he’d mentally labeled it. He was convinced it was something far more valuable, something magical. He was certain he’d seen it in his dream. But he was also confident. He wouldn't give up. It wouldn't get away from him that easily.
He closed his eyes, replaying the dream in his mind, searching for the clue he’d missed. He soon drifted into a restless sleep.
Watching the carriage disappear around a bend in the road, the old woman sighed, a sound like the rustling of autumn leaves. She clutched the burlap parcel tightly to her chest. How did that man know? she wondered, her gaze fixed on the spot where the carriage had vanished. How did he know she was a cultivator, a guardian of a secret far older than the Whispering Woods themselves? The bronze coin she had offered, seemingly so ordinary, was in fact a key, a token of recognition amongst those who walked the hidden paths. She glanced towards the forest, a sense of unease settling over her. The strange tremor, the falling star…
Something was stirring in the world, something ancient and powerful. And she had a feeling that this chance encounter with the boy – this unusually tall, strangely perceptive boy – was more than just a coincidence. She turned towards her humble dwelling, a shiver running down her spine despite the warm afternoon sun. It was a far cry from the grand halls she once commanded, the opulent gardens she once strolled through.
She, once the feared and revered Master of the Demon Sect, now lived in quiet seclusion, hiding her true identity and the immense power she still possessed.
The game had begun, and she knew, with a certainty that chilled her to the bone, that the stakes were higher than she could have ever imagined. This time, it wasn't just about power or dominance. It was about survival.