Chapter 20: Echoes of War
The morning mist hung low over Jingyang Village, silver and still, as if the land itself was holding its breath. A new day began, but Yu Zhen felt the air was heavier—denser with things unsaid. War had not yet arrived, but its echo had reached them.
He stood outside the house, barefoot on the cold earth, eyes closed. The birds no longer sang as they used to. The wind didn't feel playful. Every breath seemed like it was preparing for something. He focused his senses, tuning in to the subtle vibrations of the land—the soil's silence, the whisper of movement too distant for ordinary ears.
Inside, the kitchen was alive with the clatter of pans and the warm scent of rice porridge. Madam Yue worked swiftly, while Lan Yueran sliced vegetables with rhythmic precision. Yu Hao and Yu Lian sat at the table, arguing over who had the sharper training stick. Every corner of the home was filled with the illusion of peace.
Yu Zhen entered with a quiet nod. "Eat quickly. We're heading to the southern ridge today."
"The old outpost?" Lan Yueran asked, looking up.
He nodded. "If Kaien wants to cut through this region, that's where he'll send scouts. We need to know if they've already come."
They ate in silence, the only sound the occasional slurp of porridge and the creak of floorboards.
---
The southern ridge lay a few kilometers from the village, a stretch of hilly terrain with sparse trees and an abandoned watchtower from a long-forgotten war. Its walls were crumbling, and vines choked its stones, but from its top, one could see all the way to the eastern frontier.
Yu Zhen and Lan Yueran moved quickly but cautiously. The air changed as they climbed—the wind drier, the leaves quieter. The light here was strange, filtered through thin clouds and twisted branches, casting shadows that seemed to move on their own.
Near the outpost, Lan Yueran raised a hand. "Movement."
Yu Zhen ducked behind a ridge. From the trees, a small group of men emerged—three in armor, their tabards dusty and their eyes scanning the land. One held a map. Another had a curved hunting blade.
"Scouts," Yu Zhen whispered. "But not imperial. Look at their boots."
"Crimson Fangs," Lan Yueran confirmed. "Kaien's personal vanguard."
They crouched in silence, waiting for the patrol to pass. But one of the scouts stopped suddenly, sniffing the air like a wolf.
"Someone's here," he said.
Yu Zhen gestured.
Lan Yueran threw a rock to the opposite slope. It clattered loud.
The scout turned and dashed toward the noise.
Yu Zhen moved then, fast and silent. One step, two, and he was behind the remaining pair. With swift precision, he struck the first man's neck, and the second he disarmed and held at bladepoint.
"Why are you here?" he growled.
The man spat. "Your village's peace is over."
Yu Zhen's grip tightened.
Lan Yueran returned, blood on her sleeve. "Third one's unconscious. Tied him to a tree."
Yu Zhen dropped the scout and turned away. "Burn their map."
She raised an eyebrow. "We could've followed it."
He shook his head. "Whatever it shows, Kaien already has a dozen others. Better to leave no trace."
---
Back at the village, Yu Hao was sparring with Elder Meng's grandson. The children had begun to take their practice seriously. Yu Zhen watched from a distance as Yu Lian corrected her brother's stance like a miniature general.
"They're becoming something else," Lan Yueran said beside him. "Your strength changed them."
"No," Yu Zhen replied. "The world changed. I'm just helping them see it sooner."
That afternoon, preparations intensified. New barriers were placed at the village paths. Hidden alarm charms were buried beneath tree roots. Several families took up roles—watchmen, messengers, food distributors. Some began forging tools into weapons. The blacksmith's forge burned well past dusk.
Lan Yueran drilled the older youths in formation. Yu Hao joined the line, determined to be treated like everyone else. Yu Zhen trained the younger ones—not with swords, but awareness, breathing, posture.
"We protect our own," he said. "Not because we want war—but because peace demands it."
By sunset, the village looked unchanged. But beneath the surface, it had transformed.
---
That night, thunder rolled from the distant west, though no rain fell. In Yu Zhen's home, the family gathered for a quiet meal. Madam Yue served sweet bean cakes, a rarity she saved for special days.
"Why today?" Yu Zhen asked.
"Because I may not get the chance again," she said simply. "And because I'm proud of you."
Yu Hao raised his cup of tea. "To protecting the village!"
Everyone raised theirs too.
Yu Zhen looked at his siblings. The firelight caught their eyes, full of hope and fear. He thought of the outpost, of the scout's snarl, and of Kaien's black banner.
Later, after the dishes were washed and the house quieted, Yu Zhen sat alone outside.
He placed the wooden sword beside him. In his hands was the sword he once used in another life—black-hilted, wrapped in silver thread, and humming faintly with spiritual resonance.
Footsteps approached.
"Is it time?" Lan Yueran asked.
"Soon."
"Then let me fight beside you again."
He looked at her, eyes reflecting starlight. "You never stopped."
They sat in silence. Somewhere, an owl hooted. Insects clicked like old clockwork.
"Do you ever regret it?" she asked.
"What?"
"This life. Leaving the sword. Choosing the village."
He thought for a long time. "No. I regret the world we left. But not the one we tried to build."
---
In the far north, Kaien received word of his lost scouts. He stood in a field of frost, staring at a map marked in blood. His breath misted in the cold, and the sky above was clear, cloudless, sharp.
"So the shadow still moves," he murmured. "And thinks he can protect them."
Behind him stood a line of officers—sharp-eyed, loyal, and merciless.
He turned. "What did we learn?"
"They are building defenses. Quietly. Subtly."
Kaien smiled. "Then let's be louder."
He turned to his army—black armor, disciplined, waiting. "March."
And the earth trembled.
His lieutenant asked, "Do we take prisoners?"
Kaien paused. "No. Not yet. Let them believe they still have a chance."
Then, softer, almost to himself: "I want to see his eyes when he realizes the past never died."
---
At dawn, Yu Zhen walked the perimeter of the village. He greeted the watchmen, checked the charms, inspected the supplies. Nothing felt sufficient. But something in him was calm.
He stopped by the tree where he buried the sword once, years ago. Now the roots had grown around it.
He placed a hand on the bark. "I wanted peace. You gave me a home."
He looked to the east, where light broke over the ridge.
"I won't let them take it."
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