The forest wind howled as dusk approached.
Xiao Chen dragged his weary body through the mountain woods, wandering aimlessly for three days and nights. He didn't know where to go, nor whether there was a place for him at the edge of the world. The mountain paths were treacherous, the vegetation indistinguishable. Relying only on instinct and the herbal knowledge taught by Old Liu, he barely managed to identify which fruits were edible and which stems could stave off hunger.
It was his first time leaving the village—and the first time truly facing the world alone.
By the evening of the fourth day, the weather turned abruptly. Dark clouds loomed overhead, thunder rumbled like a beast's growl, and a torrential downpour descended. The forest became a mire; Xiao Chen was soaked through, his clothes clinging to his skin as he shivered from the cold. He stumbled through the rain, desperate to find shelter.
At last, by a crumbling cliffside, he spotted a narrow cave.
He stumbled inside, curling up in a damp, shadowy corner. His teeth chattered, and his consciousness began to blur.
The rain pounded like drums. The night was ink-dark.
He didn't know how much time had passed when a low growl echoed from deep within the cave. A pair of eerie green eyes lit up in the darkness—a wild leopard silently crept forward. Xiao Chen remained unaware, still curled up and trembling, unknowingly trespassing into its territory.
The leopard flexed its muscles, growling low as it crept closer, its sharp fangs gleaming coldly.
—Then, in a flash of lightning and thunder—
Crack!
A burst of invisible force tore through the air like thunder, striking the leopard squarely on the head. It let out a muffled roar, its body slackening as it collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
Xiao Chen looked up in a daze, only to see a pair of silent boots—unstained by even a speck of mud.
A figure slowly emerged, cloaked in a weathered travel robe. Not a corner of his garment was wet, and his aura swirled around him like mist. He lowered his gaze to Xiao Chen, his expression unreadable—part scrutiny, part waiting.
It was none other than… Suan Wuyi.
He said nothing, merely walked to the cave entrance and swept his sleeve. A barrier of energy shimmered into place, sealing out the rain. Instantly, the cave fell silent, like a sealed chamber.
Suan Wuyi sat cross-legged and pulled from his robes a flask of wine and a piece of dry bread, placing them gently beside Xiao Chen.
"Eat. You won't last much longer." His tone was calm, yet carried an undeniable authority.
Xiao Chen looked up, eyes still clouded with fear and confusion. After a long pause, he asked softly, "Uncle… who are you?"
Suan Wuyi's gaze was distant, as if watching a game set in motion long ago.
"You may call me Suan Wuyi. A wanderer… with no home left to return to." He paused, then added, "And you're Xiao Chen, aren't you?"
Xiao Chen froze. His fingers instinctively touched the spirit jade wrapped at his chest, his eyes sharpening with caution.
"Don't be afraid." Suan Wuyi gave a faint smile. "I'm not here to trouble you. I'm simply… searching for a light. And you—are within that light."
Xiao Chen didn't understand, but he sensed something different about this man. Strange, profound… yet not frightening.
Suan Wuyi offered no further explanation. He simply sat in silence, waiting until Xiao Chen finished the half piece of bread. Then he spoke again, softly:
"Tonight, rest here. At dawn, I'll walk with you for a while. But the road ahead… you'll have to walk on your own."
Xiao Chen looked at him, a flicker of complexity in his eyes.
—He had a feeling this man hadn't appeared by chance, but had been watching him from afar for a long time.
After the rain, the cave was quiet. Outside, muddy streams trickled down the slopes. Xiao Chen's clothes were half dry. He curled up near the entrance, but his gaze kept drifting toward Suan Wuyi.
The man sat cross-legged at the center of the cave, his aura thick as ink. Beside him, the black leopard lay unconscious, breathing faintly but not in danger. Suan Wuyi neither spoke nor moved, simply stared at the cave wall's stone patterns, as if Xiao Chen didn't exist.
After a while, Xiao Chen finally stood, took two steps forward, and bowed deeply. His voice was low but resolute:
"Senior… will you teach me… how to survive in a place like this?"
Suan Wuyi tilted his head slightly, saying nothing. Only his brow moved, as if intrigued.
Xiao Chen looked up. There was no fear in his eyes, nor reverence—only a maturity far beyond his years. "I don't seek techniques, nor divine powers. I just want to know… which herbs are edible, which animals to avoid, where to hide when the wind comes, and how to light a fire when night falls. I… don't want to starve again. I want to survive."
He lowered his head, fists clenched. "And I don't want people to say… I'm nobody."
Suan Wuyi finally opened his eyes. Twin pupils reflected the mountain stars. His voice was low:
"You know who I am?"
Xiao Chen shook his head.
"Then how do you know I'll teach you?"
"Because you saved me." Xiao Chen met his gaze. "If you meant to kill me, you would've done it already. You've been… watching me."
Suan Wuyi was silent for a moment, then let out a quiet laugh—like wind rustling dry leaves.
"To survive… is both the first and the hardest skill."
He rose to his feet, swept his sleeve, and scattered herbs, bark, and animal bones across the ground. "In three days, if you can identify seventy percent of their uses, I'll teach you firecraft and trap-making." He paused. "As for who you are… I'll see that for myself."
Xiao Chen's eyes trembled slightly. He nodded firmly.
He crouched down, eyes fixed on the scattered materials, and began to speak softly.
"This is ground fern—chewing it stops diarrhea… This is five-spice root—burn it to treat wounds… That one looks like gutvine—don't eat it, even touching it causes rashes…"
As he spoke, he pointed to leaf veins and root joints, naming each with care. Though not entirely certain, he showed no hesitation. His words carried echoes of Old Liu's teachings.
As for the bones and dried skins, he gave a brief account: "This is wild fox leg bone—grind it to treat chills… This one… might be red hawk feather—good for kindling, but bitter and toxic…"
When he finished, he looked up at the man in gray. "I don't know much, but these… I learned from my grandfather."
Suan Wuyi's brow lifted slightly, a flicker of surprise passing through his eyes.
"More than sixty percent." His tone remained calm, but he was no longer just an observer.
"To remember so much shows you learned with heart. Your grandfather… was a man who valued life—his own and others'."
With a sweep of his sleeve, the herbs vanished without a trace. His voice deepened, clear and resolute:"From this day forward, you'll stay by my side. I won't teach you the Dao, nor grant you techniques. I'll teach you one thing only—how to stay alive."
Xiao Chen's eyes lit up. He bowed his head and said quietly, "Thank you, Senior Suan."
Suan Wuyi turned and walked deeper into the cave. His voice echoed through the post-rain silence:"Remember—survival is harder than anything. If you truly learn it… those who seek you in the future won't be just me."
Xiao Chen froze for a moment, then said no more. His hand reached instinctively to his chest, gripping the spirit jade tightly—as if making a silent vow—and followed.
That night, deep within the cave, a faint flame flickered. The boy sat before the stone, studying herbs and bones, etching survival knowledge stroke by stroke. Beside him, Suan Wuyi spoke little, but occasionally pointed out mistakes with a twig.
Thus began a quiet and arduous life—no spiritual power, no arcane arts, only the will to survive between cold nights and wild beasts.
Weeks passed in the blink of an eye.
Under Suan Wuyi's guidance, Xiao Chen spent his days venturing into the forest, learning to identify herbs and beasts. At night, he studied traps and survival techniques. Day after day, he grew more self-reliant. Yet within him remained an unanswered question—about his origins, his future, and the stars above.
That night, the wind had stilled, and the moon shone bright. The two sat atop a secluded cliff deep in the woods, a place known to no one. The fire had dimmed. Xiao Chen gazed at the sky and finally spoke:
"Senior Suan… have the stars changed places?"
His voice was soft, but carried a trace of unshakable confusion.
Suan Wuyi sat with eyes closed. At the boy's words, his lashes trembled, as if something within had stirred. He slowly opened his eyes, a faint glow flickering in their depths.
"Why do you ask that?"
"I… didn't mean to remember, but a few days ago, that bright star was right above the crooked tree. Tonight, it's shifted east… Did I see wrong?"
He hesitated, then added, "I asked my grandfather once. He said I was imagining things, even joked I'd count the stars someday… So I never brought it up again."
His tone was uncertain, but deeply earnest.
Suan Wuyi was silent for a long time, gazing into the sea of stars. He murmured, voice barely a sigh:
"…So it's you."
He didn't say to whom the words were spoken—only that they came from somewhere deep within, like a mark of fate.
He whispered again, unsure whether to Xiao Chen or to himself. Then, with a quiet sigh, he closed his eyes, as if suppressing a memory.
"I once swore never to teach again… and yet, here you are."
When he turned back, his expression was solemn, his voice heavier than ever before:
"From this day forward, I will teach you not only how to survive. I will pass on the art of 'Star Reading and Fate Watching.'"
Xiao Chen looked up sharply, eyes wide with shock and hesitation.
"But… didn't you say you don't teach?"
"I did. But you're different. You can sense the movement of stars, perceive the shifts of yin and yang. If you don't learn, it'll be wasted."
He paused, his tone softening:
"Not just that… I'll also teach you basic footwork and survival combat techniques. These are things I learned in the Tianji Sect long ago. No formal initiation, no recorded lineage—you must claim it as self-taught. You may never speak my name."
Xiao Chen stared at him, then nodded firmly.
"I understand."
He took a deep breath, then knelt on the ground, bowing three times with trembling voice:
"Disciple… Xiao Chen, greets Master."
Suan Wuyi watched in silence. After a long moment, he raised his hand gently, as if brushing away a sealed memory.
"Since you call me Master, remember what I teach today: read the stars, understand fate, avoid calamity, seek survival. Footwork is your guide, protection your goal. You're still young, your foundation unsteady—I won't teach you to attack, only to endure. Remember: if your life is lost, even the heavens won't remain."
"Yes, Master."
From that day on, the forest bore witness to a new scene—writing beneath the stars, dancing through the wind. By day, Xiao Chen chopped wood and studied herbs; by night, he read the stars and laid out fate charts. Though he hadn't learned spells, he had begun walking his own path.
After the rainy season, the forest remained damp. Suan Wuyi's trials continued, and time passed quietly.
In the blink of an eye, several years had gone by.
Now eleven, Xiao Chen stood taller than before. Though still youthful in appearance, his gaze held a calm far beyond his age. Under Suan Wuyi's strict training, he had mastered herb identification, trap setting, stealth, and evasion. He had even learned a few basic techniques from the Tianji Sect—but the name of his teacher was never to be spoken.
That night, thick fog blanketed the forest. Moonlight scattered like shards of silver across the ground.
Xiao Chen crouched low, setting traps to catch nocturnal beasts. Suddenly, a piercing scream rang out from deep within the woods—clear, trembling—
It was a girl's voice.
Xiao Chen froze for a split second, the trap rope still half-tied. Then he bolted, sprinting toward the scream.
Branches whipped past his face, fog clung to his skin. The voice grew louder, his heartbeat faster. He burst through a patch of ferns—and the forest suddenly opened wide.
There, a massive Black Moon Bear thundered forward, its eyes blood-red, breath ragged like a snorting bull. Ahead of it, a frail girl stumbled through the underbrush, her face twisted in terror.
Xiao Chen didn't hesitate. With a roar, he charged and threw a punch straight at the bear's head!
The beast staggered, howling in pain as it toppled sideways. But quickly, its gaze locked onto the new challenger.
It was the fury of hunger, the primal instinct of a predator facing threat.
With a roar, the bear swung its paw!
In that instant, Xiao Chen's eyes caught a glimpse behind a stone—someone crouched low. A girl?
His mind faltered. A flicker of memory flashed—an old, buried silhouette from deep within.
That moment of distraction—
Boom!
The bear's paw struck him hard, sending him flying several meters. His arm tore open, blood spilling as he crashed and rolled across the ground. His breath was ragged, his body trembling.
But when he forced himself up, he was stunned: though his arm was torn, the bone remained intact—he could still lift it!
A surge of heat erupted from deep within the spirit jade.
The girl's frightened eyes lingered in his mind—and suddenly, unfamiliar visions flooded his thoughts: war, bloodshed, countless fallen figures…
His heart trembled.
Why did these scenes—ones he'd never seen—feel so familiar?
In that instant, a strange heat exploded from his chest.
His blood ignited.
His qi surged.
His spiritual sea… trembled.
Like the precursor to a shattered seal, an indescribable force surged through his meridians, rushing with his blood.
Xiao Chen roared, his fist crashing down like a falling star—straight at the bear's skull!
Boom!
The explosion echoed like thunder. The giant bear howled, blood spraying, then collapsed to the forest floor—silent.
The girl still hid behind the bushes, trembling. The forest fell eerily quiet.
Finally, she gently parted the leaves and peeked out.
What she saw was the blood-soaked back of a boy.
Xiao Chen stood, drenched in crimson, his eyes sharp as stone. He remembered the girl behind him—and turned to look.
In that moment, their eyes met.
In that moment, the threads of fate quietly entwined—silent and unseen, yet deeply rooted in what was to come.
Xiao Chen's chest heaved, arms limp at his sides, breath uneven. The bear lay motionless, and only the wind and lingering tremors stirred the forest.
He stood beside the fallen beast, blood pouring from his right arm, face pale as paper. Yet his stance remained firm—like a mountain unmoved.
The girl stared in stunned silence, her mouth slightly agape.
Only after confirming the bear was truly dead did Xiao Chen exhale, his strength drained. He collapsed to the ground, head tilted back, gasping for air.
Suddenly, a trembling voice came from behind:
"You… you're hurt so badly… Are you okay?"
Xiao Chen blinked and turned—she had stepped closer, her face filled with concern. Her skin was fair, eyes like autumn water, shimmering with soft light. Her voice was gentle, sincere, and full of care.
In that instant, something quietly stirred within him—like an echo from deep memory, indistinct yet enough to make him shiver.
His cheeks flushed. He scrambled to his feet, stepping back, stammering:
"I'm f-fine…"
But before he could finish, a wave of pain surged through him. His wound flared, arm burning like fire. He groaned, dropping to one knee, cold sweat beading on his brow.
The girl gasped and rushed forward. She untied the white ribbon from her hair and gently began to bandage his arm. Her movements were clumsy, but her gaze was focused, careful not to cause him more pain.
Xiao Chen lowered his head, unsure what to say. In the five years since leaving his village, he had never met someone his age in the forest. Rarer still—she wasn't afraid of him. She was helping him.
His eyes lingered on her face, dazed.
That look—wasn't how one gazed at a stranger.
She met his gaze, and in her eyes flickered a trace of confusion and something else—like she'd stumbled upon something long lost. Familiar enough to hold her there, yet impossible to explain.
They stood in silence. Time seemed to slow.
She looked at him, still shaken, then softly asked:
"Do you… really not remember me?"
Her voice was gentle, yet it rang like a bell at dawn. It wasn't a question of this life—but something older, deeper.
Xiao Chen froze, a flicker of confusion in his eyes.
"…Have we met?" he asked instinctively, but immediately doubted his own words. He didn't remember this girl. Yet her voice, her tone, even the light in her eyes made something in his chest quietly stir.
Like a scene glimpsed countless times in dreams—always slipping away before he could grasp it. She smiled faintly.
"Of course. You're still the same. You don't remember me."
After a pause, she stood and lowered her gaze.
"I… I have to go. I don't know how to get out of this forest… Do you know the way?"
Xiao Chen hesitated, then nodded. He pushed himself up, leaning against a tree.
"I'll take you."
His voice was soft, but without the slightest doubt.
She didn't refuse.
And so, the two walked side by side, weaving through the misty forest under nightfall.
Neither spoke much, yet somehow, their footsteps fell into rhythm—quietly, naturally.
As they emerged from the woods, the fog began to lift. Morning light spilled gently beyond the trees.
The girl turned to him and suddenly asked,
"What's your name?"
He paused, then replied,
"Xiao Chen."
She tilted her head, thinking for a moment, then blinked playfully.
"Xiao Chen… like 'Dawnlight'?"
Xiao Chen froze, about to correct her—
But she had already burst into laughter.
"And you?" he asked.
She smiled mysteriously.
"When you return my hair ribbon someday, you'll know."
"My home is in the northeast corner of Lingfeng City, up north. There's an old house no one dares enter. The outer wall is covered in wisteria, and two copper bells hang on the door."
She paused, then added softly:
"Maybe… by then, you'll be someone different too."
With that, she gave a radiant smile and turned, running toward the edge of the forest.
Xiao Chen stood there, watching her silhouette fade into the morning mist—like waking from a dream.
Only then did he stir, remembering the fallen bear in the woods. He returned, swiftly carving several cuts of meat from its hind legs. Slinging them over his shoulder, he carried them back to the cave—to feed himself and his master for the coming days.
As he walked, his arm throbbed faintly—the wound still bleeding. Drops of blood trickled down his fingers, silently staining the spirit jade at his chest.
One drop.
Then another.
Xiao Chen didn't notice. He simply gazed toward the light beyond the forest and murmured:
"North… Lingfeng City…
Will she remember me?"