The dirt road stretched out before Huan Ko like an endless ribbon, twisting and winding through the quiet landscape. The sun hung low in the western sky, casting long, golden shadows across the fields. The world was bathed in the warm hues of late afternoon, but its beauty was lost on him. His mind was a fog of conflicting thoughts, each step feeling like it should lead him somewhere, yet he had no idea where that place might be.

Dust rose with each footfall, clinging to the hem of his simple blue robe. His strides were steady, a result of the minor progress he had made in cultivation over the years—enough to endure long journeys, but not enough to protect anyone. His back carried the weight of a small pack filled with alchemical supplies, and the bow slung over his shoulder brushed lightly against his arm as he walked. His sword, a straight-edged jian, hung at his waist, though he hardly felt its presence anymore.

Eighteen years old. His body had nearly finished growing, yet his spirit felt worn, aged beyond its years. Reincarnation had promised him a second chance, a way to get stronger, but the destruction of his sect had shattered that illusion.

He clenched his fist, then released it. There was no use dwelling on the past. Not now.

The road sloped gently downward, leading him toward a small town nestled in a shallow valley. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, and rows of simple wooden houses lined the edges of the town, their roofs thatched with straw. A river wound its way around the town’s outskirts, the soft murmur of water reaching his ears even from this distance. Huan Ko squinted, taking in the scene with a quiet detachment.

This was the first village he had encountered since he departed a fortnight ago.

As he approached, the atmosphere changed. The townsfolk, who had been going about their evening routines, began to take notice of him. Mothers pulled their children closer, casting furtive glances his way as they hurried inside. Old men paused mid-conversation, eyeing him warily from their doorways. The soft buzz of chatter and the clinking of tools against wood grew quiet, replaced by the sound of footsteps scurrying out of sight.

Huan Ko sighed. It wasn’t surprising. The news of the nearby sect’s destruction must have spread like wildfire across the region. Fear had taken root, and any stranger, especially one dressed in Taoist robes, was seen as a potential threat.

He couldn’t blame them.

Still, the weight of their suspicion pressed down on him, adding to the burden he already carried.

He continued forward, his pace slow but steady, until he reached the heart of the town. A small market square stood at the center, though most of the stalls had already closed for the day. Only a few vendors remained, their goods covered with cloths to shield them from the settling dust. The air was thick with a mixture of curiosity and unease, as if the town itself was holding its breath, waiting to see what this stranger would do.

Huan Ko stood in the middle of the market square, his eyes scanning the remaining stalls for food. His hunger was a distant ache, easy to ignore in the face of the palpable tension around him. The few vendors still in place pulled their wares back, casting suspicious glances his way. The sun was dipping lower, casting long shadows that seemed to deepen the unease in the air. He reached into his pack, his fingers brushing against the few coins he brought to not mark himself a target for thieves.

The murmurs of the townspeople grew quieter as a presence approached—an aura that pressed down on the square like a heavy cloud. Huan Ko’s senses, though limited by the relic, prickled with a slight awareness. As he turned slowly to face the source of the tension, he brought his hands together inside his sleeves, sliding the relic off of his finger.

A man emerged from the shadow of a nearby building, tall and broad-shouldered, his figure casting a long shadow over the square. His robe was of a finer make than the villagers', embroidered with the faint sheen of protective runes. His stern expression and the way he carried himself—shoulders squared, back straight, as though he was the biggest man in the world—marked him as an independent cultivator.

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Huan Ko met the cultivator’s gaze, his calm exterior a fragile mask over the storm of thoughts racing through his mind.

"Who are you?" the cultivator’s voice cut through the thickening silence. He took a step forward, his eyes narrowing as if he could peel back Huan Ko’s skin with his gaze alone.

Huan Ko’s hands subtly intertwined beneath his robes. He had seen enough of the world, in both this life and his past one, to recognize the disdain in his voice: the same contempt that a farmer would have for a fox. He knew better than to argue, though. Confronting a powerful cultivator with bravado would be a fatal mistake.

The man’s fingers twitched and Huan could feel a pulse of qi pulse out probingly. The energy was smooth but chilling, like a fall breeze, as it intruded into his body, searching through all of Huan’s meridians.

But the qi’s search was fruitless, passing by the small amount of qi that Huan had cultivated in his dantian.

The cultivator’s eyes narrowed to a glare.

“You dare to wear a cultivator’s garb without qi? You must be either a fool or a rogue, imitating what he does not understand.” The few remaining townspeople who hadn’t retreated echoed his disdain with murmurs of agreement.

Huan Ko’s mind raced, fully aware of how defenseless he was in the face of this man’s power. He had spent so long cultivating in the grove, but his progress remained almost laughable compared to this man who had none of the resources that Huan had. And yet, despite the very real threat before him, Huan Ko remained outwardly calm. He released the tension in his hand, relaxing them to his sides, his eyes steady and unflinching as he met the man’s cold glare.

The sneer faltered for a fraction of a second as the taller man’s eyes flickered with uncertainty. Huan Ko’s refusal to show fear had done something strange—it had planted a seed of doubt. A man without qi should be quaking in his boots, but Huan Ko stood still as a mountain, his expression serene.

“I don’t need to justify my existence to you,” Huan Ko spoke evenly.

The cultivator’s fingers curled into a fist, the qi around him sharpening. “You think hiding can protect you?” he growled. “Let’s see how calm you remain when your bones are dust—”

“Please, don’t fight! Don’t bring bloodshed here!” a desperate voice cut through the air.

A man of short and rotund stature hurried into the square, his face pale and drawn, beads of sweat glistening on his brow. He stumbled to a halt between the two men, throwing himself into a low, pleading bow. “Shen Wu! Please, I beg of you, this man—he may be the answer to our prayers!”

Shen Wu’s face twisted into a scowl as the richly dressed man turned to Huan with pleading eyes and kowtowed.

“Please forgive any insult caused by my colleague, he’s simply guarded due to recent news. I’m the mayor, Lao Yun.” His voice wavered, before filling with determination, “My son erred while cultivating. He crippled his meridians. The town healer has tried everything, but nothing works. You—" He glanced up at Huan Ko, hope flickering behind his fearful eyes. "You seem to be a traveling cultivator... Please, can you help him? I’ll do anything—just allow him to recover.”

Huan Ko exhaled slowly, allowing the man’s words to sink into the surroundings.

Before Huan Ko could respond, Shen Wu spoke, “So, this is your plan, Mayor?” gesturing wildly towards Huan, “You’re putting your faith in this stranger? This weakling? He could not name a single soul in this town, and yet you believe he can save your son?”

The mayor bowed lower, his forehead making an indent on the soil. “We have no choice, Shen Wu. I’ve tried everything. My son...”

Shen Wu turned his attention back to Huan Ko, his scowl deepening. “Fine,” he said, his voice a low growl. “Heal the mayor’s son. But if you fail...” His eyes glinted with malice. “I’ll be sure to find your parents so I can unite you all in Hell.”

The threat hung heavy in the air, bringing silence upon the town. Huan remained stoic, his mind racing. He could feel the weight of the townsfolks’ gazes on him, the unspoken judgment, the fear of failure.

He didn’t know if he had the knowledge or ability to heal a damaged meridian, but he knew he must succeed for his own sake.

“I will,” Huan Ko said finally, his voice low but firm. His confidence surprised even him, but the alternative was death. Too many people had given their lives for his own sake to go out to some random town cultivator.

Lao Yun scrambled forward, his eyes wide with hope. “Thank you, thank you... Please, follow me. My son is resting in his room.”

Huan Ko nodded once and followed the mayor, feeling the weight of every step. As the mayor entered the biggest house located at the pinnacle of the street, Huan stopped at the threshold of the building. He gave a glance back at the gathered crowd, noting conflicted emotions on Shen Wu’s face, before taking a final step, heavier than any he had taken up his sect’s mountainside.