The voice was hoarse, low, and barely audible, as if it emanated from the throat of a dying old man. Yet, in this foreign world, who among the elderly could possibly understand Chinese? If it had been just a random utterance, Leoric might have dismissed it. But one phrase lingered - "Well said" - spoken in fluent Chinese.

Turning slowly, Leoric's eyes met those of a bald, hunched old man, clutching the leash of an equally aged, bald dog. It was the mute neighbor, a figure shrouded in mystery.

Leoric recalled his parents' stories about the neighbor, who hadn't always been silent. Once a talkative soul, he had become mute after his wife's death, followed by a fall on the day Leoric and Leovena were born. A high fever had robbed him of his voice, and since then, he had retreated into seclusion, rarely acknowledging the world around him.

In the seven years they had lived next door, Leoric had seen the old man fewer than a hundred times. The only constant was the bald dog, a daily fixture in Leoric's life. Their encounters were marked by mutual indifference, the old man often acting as if Leoric were invisible. It wasn't disrespect; there was something unsettling about him that made Leoric keep his distance.

Now, here he stood in the cemetery, speaking Leoric's native tongue. "Well said," the old man repeated, his voice sending shivers down Leoric's spine.

Uncertainty gripped Leoric, his mind racing with possibilities, even the dark thought of murder to eliminate a potential threat. But Leovena remained unperturbed, unaware of the old man's words and dismissing them as meaningless sounds from a mute.

"Good day," she said, bowing slightly.

The old man remained silent, his cloudy eyes locked on Leoric, making him increasingly uneasy. Sensing the tension, Leovena tried to lead Leoric away, but the old man suddenly stepped forward.

Leoric watched him intently as the old man raised his hand and gently patted Leoric's head three times. Then, clasping his hands behind his back, he turned and walked away, the dog trailing behind.

For a moment, Leoric was lost in thought, puzzled by the gesture. The taps had left him slightly dizzy but otherwise unharmed. Surely, the old man couldn't possess some mythical martial arts technique, like the Bone-Dissolving Palm, could he? That required striking the body, not the head.

In a daze, Leoric didn't realize he was being led out of the cemetery by his sister until the cool breeze outside cleared his mind. He began to piece together the puzzle.

First, the old man was likely another time traveler from Earth, perhaps even from China, explaining his fluency in Chinese and understanding of Leoric's words.

Second, his parents had mentioned that the old man became mute after a serious illness the year Leoric was born. This reinforced the idea that the old man had also traveled through time that year. Unlike Leoric, who had reincarnated, the old man must have inhabited a new body directly, leading to his muteness due to unfamiliarity with the local language.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

"If so, what does he want now that he knows I'm also a time traveler?" Leoric pondered. "Does he want to kill me to keep it a secret? No, unlikely," he quickly dismissed the thought. "He's too old to bother with such things."

Then, what did the three taps on the head mean? Could the old man be trying to take Leoric as a disciple?

Wait, a disciple? Three taps on the head, hands clasped behind the back - it sounded familiar, like a story from his childhood...

Journey to the West...

One of the Four Great Classical Novels, Journey to the West was etched in Leoric's memory. In the story, a monkey sought immortality and received three taps on the head from his master, signaling a secret midnight meeting where he gained profound teachings.

"This old man must know this story since we're both from China. Is he trying to take me as a disciple?" Leoric wondered.

It seemed unlikely that this frail old man could offer anything of value. But perhaps, out of kindness, he might name Leoric as his heir, given his advanced age. Though his house appeared shabby, appearances could be deceiving.

"What are you thinking about?" Leovena tapped Leoric's head lightly. "You're smiling to yourself."

"Nothing," he replied.

Back home, life in the City of Shadows resumed its usual rhythm. Their days were filled with running the shop, trading goods, preparing materials, eating, and finally, sleeping.

Since their parents' death, Leoric had taken advantage of Leovena's fever to sleep beside her, fulfilling a small comfort. Despite her lack of curves, her smooth skin was soothing to hold. Since then, Leoric often claimed it was too cold to sleep alone and joined Leovena under her blanket. She didn't seem to mind, treating him like a mischievous younger brother.

Each night, Leoric took liberties with Leovena while she slept. The Shadowfell, ruled by the goddess Shar, had no sun, making nights bitterly cold. As a girl, Leovena naturally felt the chill and found warmth in Leoric's embrace. Over time, she grew accustomed to it.

After a long day, Leovena was exhausted and went straight to bed. Leoric, already hidden under the covers, pulled her close. As his hand moved toward her chest, she pushed it away.

"Don't play around, I'm tired," Leovena said.

Leoric retreated momentarily, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. Once Leovena fell asleep, he resumed undressing her, removing her pajamas completely. He preferred her without clothes.

Leovena didn't resist, having grown accustomed to his touches. She snuggled closer to his warm embrace and drifted deeper into sleep.

Once sure Leovena was sound asleep, Leoric quietly slipped out of bed and left the house, heading towards the old man's place.

The street was deserted, illuminated only by dim magical lamps that flickered with each step. Reaching the old man's door, Leoric found it unlocked and entered cautiously.

Inside, it was pitch black, filled with a strange, medicinal smell. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, barely making out the room's outline.

"You've come?" the old man's raspy voice startled Leoric, despite his preparedness.

Whether this encounter would bring fortune or disaster, Leoric had decided to take the gamble. Turning around, he bowed slightly. "Sir," he said.

They conversed in Chinese, feeling no need to hide anymore. Though Leoric hadn't spoken Chinese in seven years, it flowed naturally, like his native tongue.

"Hmm," the old man nodded, lighting a lamp with a snap of his fingers. Magic was ubiquitous in the City of Shadows, even in everyday items like lamps and heaters.

"Now that you're here," he croaked, "sit down. We have much to discuss."

Indeed, they talked for hours, well into the night. When Leoric emerged from what was now his master's house, dawn had already broken.