The faint light of dawn bathed the village of Willowbrook in a soft golden hue, illuminating its simple wooden houses and narrow dirt paths. High above, the peaks of the Greenwater Mountains loomed, shrouded in early morning mist, their jagged tops cutting through the horizon like silent guardians.
To most, Willowbrook was a quiet, peaceful place—a village that seemed untouched by the chaos of the outside world. But for Li Feng, it was nothing more than a prison.
Standing at the edge of the forest, Li Feng raised his axe, his hands rough and calloused from years of chopping wood. The thick trees before him seemed endless, stretching toward the mountains that called to him like a distant dream. He swung the axe in rhythm, each strike echoing in the still morning air, but his mind wandered far beyond the task at hand.
The stories had always fascinated him. Tales of cultivators—mighty warriors who could harness the energy of the world, fly through the skies, and live for centuries. They were the heroes of legend, the rulers of the world, beings who defied the heavens themselves. From a young age, Li Feng had been captivated by these tales, imagining himself among their ranks. But in a place like Willowbrook, such dreams felt impossibly distant.
“You’re wasting your time,” came a familiar voice from behind him.
Li Feng turned to see Old Man Guo, the village elder, approaching with a slow, deliberate gait. The old man’s cane sank into the soft earth with every step, and his weathered face was creased with lines that spoke of decades spent under the mountain sun. His eyes, however, were sharp and clear, betraying the keen mind that lay beneath his age.
“I wasn’t daydreaming,” Li Feng said, resting the axe on his shoulder. “Just... thinking.”
“Thinking about those mountains again, I’ll wager.” Old Man Guo shook his head and chuckled. “You’ve had that look in your eyes since you were a boy. Always staring off, like the world beyond Willowbrook was calling your name.”
Li Feng shrugged, though the elder’s words stung with truth. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting more.”
“Wanting more isn’t the problem,” Guo replied, leaning on his cane as he peered up at the mist-covered peaks. “It’s the mountains themselves. They don’t give anything for free, and they don’t care how much you want it.”
Li Feng knew the elder wasn’t wrong. The Greenwater Mountains weren’t just the boundary between the village and the world beyond; they were a place of danger, filled with untamed beasts and mysterious forces. And yet, for all the warnings and dangers, the mountains were also home to the sects—places where people could train, cultivate their inner strength, and rise above the limits of mortals.
Li Feng tightened his grip on the axe handle. “It’s not the mountains I want. It’s the chance to prove myself.”
Old Man Guo gave him a long, appraising look. “Prove yourself, you say. You think it’s that simple, boy? Cultivation isn’t for everyone. It’s not something you can just work your way into. It requires talent—something more than what we have here.”
Li Feng felt his chest tighten at the words. He had heard this all his life—that the people of Willowbrook were ordinary, destined for nothing more than a simple existence. But he refused to believe it. Every night, he practiced his meditation, trying to feel the Qi, the life force that cultivators used to wield their powers. Every day, he trained his body until he could no longer stand. But no matter how hard he worked, it never felt like enough.
“I don’t believe that,” Li Feng said quietly, his eyes drifting back to the mountains. “There’s more to it than just talent. There has to be.”
Old Man Guo sighed, his voice softening. “I admire your spirit, Feng. I really do. But spirit alone isn’t enough. And the sects—they’re not for people like us. Not anymore.”
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Li Feng bit back the retort he wanted to make. It wasn’t that Old Man Guo didn’t care—he was simply resigned to a life of limitations. But Li Feng wasn’t. The mountains called to him in a way that was almost painful, like a whisper at the edge of his consciousness, promising something more. Something greater.
“Go on,” Old Man Guo said after a moment. “Finish your work. The village will need that wood soon. Winter’s coming, and the beasts grow bold when the cold sets in.”
Li Feng nodded, though his thoughts were far from the coming winter. As the old man turned to leave, Li Feng hefted his axe and resumed his task, the rhythm of chopping wood merging with the pulse of his restless mind.
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Later that day, as the sun climbed higher into the sky, the village of Willowbrook came alive with the usual hum of daily life. Children ran through the streets, their laughter echoing between the wooden houses, while the village elders sat beneath the large oak tree at the center of the square, trading stories of years gone by. Farmers carried baskets of freshly harvested rice, their faces marked with the exhaustion of a long season, and the sounds of hammers rang out from the blacksmith’s forge.
Li Feng made his way through the village, a bundle of firewood balanced on his shoulder. He greeted the familiar faces as he passed, though his mind was still focused on the mountains beyond. As he reached the well near the village center, he spotted Xiao Mei, one of his childhood friends, filling several buckets of water.
“Li Feng! Over here!” she called out, waving him over.
He smiled and shifted the firewood onto his other shoulder as he approached. Xiao Mei had always been kind to him, ever since they were children. She was quick-witted and practical, always finding ways to solve problems that left others scratching their heads.
“Can you give me a hand with these?” she asked, gesturing to the heavy buckets lined up by the well.
“Of course,” Li Feng said, setting the firewood down and lifting two of the buckets with ease. “You’re getting water for the whole village today?”
“Something like that,” Xiao Mei replied with a grin. “My father said the storage tanks need to be filled before winter comes. Everyone’s pitching in.”
Li Feng nodded as they walked together toward the storage house. “The mountain beasts will be more of a problem once the snow falls.”
“They always are,” she said, her voice dropping slightly. “I heard a merchant talking about it earlier this week. They’re more aggressive this year. Must be something in the mountains stirring them up.”
Li Feng’s thoughts immediately turned to the sects. The stories he’d heard about cultivators often mentioned that disturbances in nature—like wild beasts or strange weather—were linked to battles between powerful figures or the awakening of ancient forces. Could something be happening up there?
As they reached the storage tanks, Xiao Mei gave him a sideways glance. “You’re thinking about the mountains again, aren’t you?”
Li Feng smirked. “It’s that obvious?”
“To me, it is,” she said, her smile fading into a more serious expression. “I know you want to leave, to join one of the sects. But... I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
Li Feng paused for a moment, lowering the buckets onto the ground. “I appreciate that, Mei. But I have to try. I can’t stay here forever, wondering what might have been.”
She looked at him for a long moment before sighing. “I figured you’d say that. Just promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I will,” he said with a grin, though his heart felt heavier than he let on.
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By late afternoon, the peaceful hum of village life was suddenly interrupted by the sound of frantic hooves galloping toward the square. Li Feng turned just in time to see a rider, his face pale with fear, pull his horse to a skidding stop at the village’s edge. His voice was ragged, barely controlled as he called out:
“Spiritual beasts! They’re coming down from the mountains!”
A ripple of panic spread through the villagers, their peaceful day shattered in an instant. Mothers pulled their children inside, men rushed to grab weapons, and the village elder quickly hobbled forward to address the rider.
“How many?” Old Man Guo asked, his voice stern.
“Three or four, at least,” the rider gasped, still catching his breath. “They’ve already attacked one of the outer villages. We don’t have much time!”
Li Feng felt his pulse quicken. He had never seen a spiritual beast, but the stories were enough to make his heart race. These creatures, infused with the raw energy of heaven and earth, were dangerous beyond anything normal animals could be. Only cultivators had the power to fight them directly—and Willowbrook had no such protectors.
“We need to barricade the village,” Guo ordered, his voice steady despite the chaos. “Everyone, prepare yourselves!”
Li Feng stood frozen for a moment, gripping the axe he had brought with him. He wasn’t a cultivator. He had no mystical powers, no grand techniques. And yet, as the sound of distant roars echoed from the mountains, something deep inside him stirred.
It wasn’t fear. It was something else.
Resolve.
“Feng!” Xiao Mei called out from behind him, fear evident in her voice. “You can’t be thinking—”
But he was already moving, striding toward the edge of the village where the first defenses were being hastily constructed. His grip on the axe tightened, his heart pounding in his chest.
The mountains had always called to him. Now, it seemed, they were answering.