Hanxing's life gradually turned into a peaceful routine, over days, weeks and months.
He would sit by the courtyard in the morning, basking under the morning sun. The warmth became a comfort thing given the chilly weather year round due to the altitude of the land here.
Thud, thud. Scrape.
The sound of hammer and tools hitting wood would fill the courtyard in the morning. Han Yang had been working as a carpenter, making furniture and sculptures for the townsfolks.
Han Xing found comfort in listening to him working in the morning. It was like ASMR hearing the scraping and the sound of wood being cut and carved. The scent when the wood was cut open was somehow pleasant for him.
He would walk around at times, taking one step at a time just to stretch his body and muscles. Though, it was barely a few minutes a day. He was barely a year old now, so he really just sleep most of the time. Otherwise he felt weak, like his body was never healthy.
Before sleep, his adoptive father would tuck him to bed and pat his back while sending wisp of energy to help soothe and prevent the ache deep inside Han Xing's body just so he could sleep and wouldn't wake up in the middle of night from sudden breakthrough pain or discomfort.
At times, Han Xing wondered why Han Yang was so kind to him, if he deserved it, or that he didn't give Han Yang anything in return. He concluded it must have been pity. Thinking back on how he actually looked to outsiders, before he had the prosthetics to cover his hollowed eye sockets and once missing limbs - he must have looked pitiful, if not scary.
Pity it may be, Han Xing was still grateful.
He may not speak much after what he went through but Han Yang's kindness would forever be engraved in his heart. Going through that kind of pain changed him. He didn't even dare to remember. He didn't even want to hate and rather just forget them entirely, as if hoping they never happened at all.
At times he had nightmares, the elders surrounding him, the cruel voice of that person who eventually tore him apart piece by piece while he was awake. His memory felt like a blur. But the pain was real.
Han Xing wondered. Maybe if he was truly a new born soul, he wouldn't have remembered such a horrific thing that happened. Unfortunately he was conscious, aware, and the memories stuck like a leech in his bones.
Thud. Thud.
Hanxing moved his eyes to watch his father working on the piece of furniture again. It took his mind off things. The past few months, he started to be able to 'see' in his own way a little bit more clearly. The hazy feeling was sharper, letting him feel a sense of distance and shape of objects within a few meters of him. But he still couldn't walk too far, as further than a few meters it was all nothingness in his view.
Seeing his father knocking the chisel bit by bit to carve a shape out of the timber, Han Xing couldn't help but feel a want.
He has been idle so…
"Dad." Han Xing called out.
Han Yang's ears perked up. He stopped working and turned to look. Surprise flashed in his eyes, as Han Xing very rarely called him and wasn't talkative.
"Can I try…?" Han Xing asked softly.
"Try?" Han Yang frowned, trying to figure out what Han Xing wanted.
"You mean, you want to try carving this?" Han Yang looked down at the unfinished wood then back at Han Xing.
Han Xing nodded. Han Yang hesitated for a second. He was afraid Han Xing would injure himself. But then he thought again and remembered Han Xing's arms weren't real flesh.
Thinking about it, he smiled softly. "Sure, Xing'er. But it takes time and patience to learn the skill. Don't give up too early if you can't get it."
Han Yang came over, bringing a small block of wood, and a small carving knife. They were used to make fine details, but it was just the right size for Han Xing's little arms.
Han Xing held the little block of wood, feeling its texture through his prosthetics. He may not feel warmth through it, but the mysterious construction lets him feel pressure and texture a little. His senses were enough to make the shape out too.
Carefully he moved the carving knife, just testing and experimenting with the feeling.
"Haha. Son, why are you peeling it like a potato?" Han Yang laughed a little seeing how he handled it.
"I am just trying…" Han Xing kept going. Mindlessly carving it into whatever he felt. Han Yang just watched with a soft gaze, letting Han Xing experiment with it. Even if Han Xing lost his grip on the knife, his arms and fingers were made of spiritual wood and could not be damaged by mere mortal force.
"Dad." Han Xing called out while his hands kept moving in a slow steady manner.
"Why are you here, around mortals? You are a cultivator…"
Han Yang was a little taken aback at the question. He was considering what to say.
"And this is a lower realm. You know of the Gu family. And that person called you senior too…" Han Xing was listening at the time, remembering bits and pieces. But only now he brought it up.
Han Yang's eyes turned to surprise, then hesitance. He let out a sigh. His gaze turned up to the sky, as if reminiscing the past.
"I am just living the rest of my life here. I am already at my life's end."
After a moment of silence, Han Yang chattered more.
"I was too bold in my youth. Injured my root to escape with my life; created enemies I could not fight without dragging those closest to me; and even took treasures that made me become wanted. Hah. I really was so daring back then. Xing'er, don't be like this old man." Han Yang said with a tone of amusement and nostalgia.
Han Xing's eyebrows knitted together, his hands stopped working on the block of wood.
"But you seem strong and healthy."
Han Yang snorted in amusement.
"Child, that is relative. My cultivation has been seeping through my body little by little. Even at this moment. Like water through a sieve. But don't worry about this old man. I have a few hundred years to live at most." Han Yang tried to be nonchalant.
"Oh." Han Xing seemed to understand. In fact, a few hundred years to live sounded like a lot to him.
He even imagined, compared to himself, his father will live even longer so it was probably not his place to worry.
Han Xing didn't speak any further and continued working on the block of wood.
Han Yang turned his eyes to look at the child, trying to see through his thoughts. A pang of sadness crept inside of him as he realised what the look was about.
Han Xing was aware he did not have too long to live. Han Yang felt bad for even mentioning he had hundreds of years left as if that would make it any better. His eyes turned red as he thought how the child had been thinking about his death already.
"Xing'er…" He spoke out hoarsely, his hand ruffling his hair. He wanted to say something, but he didn't know what to say.
Han Xing could tell from the tremor of his voice that his father probably overthink a little. "It's okay, dad. I am glad you took me in."
Han Yang's hand turned shaky, his breathing turned uneven for a second before he composed himself.
He looked at Han Xing's calm and steady hands working and practicing on the wood, as if he had no worry in his mind. But it's not just no worry, but also, no hope or future. As if he had already accepted and given up on himself.
"Xing'er, if there is a way… do you want to live?" Han Yang spoke shakily. As if what he was asking is too sensitive of a topic, afraid to hurt his child.
Han Xing looked up at his father. His expression was a little hesitant and uncertain. And then, as if he came to a conclusion after contemplation, he nodded.
"I want to stay a little longer. I haven't repaid you for everything yet. I am too small and can't do much for you. And…"
"I am happy… to have you as my dad."
"Xing'er…" Han Yang felt like bursting into tears. But he held himself together, not wanting to embarrass himself.
"You don't have to repay me. In fact, I am indebted to you. One of my regrets is to have no descendant left behind. I put everything into seeking the Dao, and I end up on a lone road. But you came along and gave me this..." Han Yang ruffled his short hair again.
Han Xing let out a soft smile.
"Dad, you had so much longer to live. You can find a young wife and have a few children. Maybe you can get a grandson too."
"Hah! Child, you couldn't see I am already grey on my hair and beard! Besides, how could those mortal women handle me! They wouldn't last long!"
"..." Han Xing looked at his father blandly with his prosthetic eyes, as if judging this old man for saying such innuendo to his ears.
Han Yang coughed lightly, trying to change the subject as he felt he was being judged by this child.
"Cough. Anyways, it's already noon. I will make lunch." Han Yang stood up and went to the kitchen to prepare.
Han Xing let out a small huff seeing the old man run away. A soft smile on his lips as he continued carving the little block of wood in his hands.
While Han Xing was doing his own thing, unbeknownst to him, Han Yang had been thinking deeply about the issue of Han Xing's body.
The thought of outliving the child hurt his heart. The immortal road was a lonely one due to this reason. And why cultivators should never entangle themselves with mortals.
Attachment could lead to lifelong ache and regrets and even breed heart demons.
"Heavens. You let me cross paths with the child you abandoned. I am already at my life's end and have nothing else to lose. Don't blame me for defying his fate." Han Yang's eyes turned sharp as he looked up at the sky through the window, as if making a declaration to heaven on what he decided to do for the child he already took as his own.
He summoned an ancient box from his spatial ring. The box opened, revealing an inconspicuous seed with no fluctuation of aura. In the naked eyes, it looked like a normal seed. But Han Yang knew this was a treasure containing the essence of life.
He had thought of 100 ways to solve Han Xing's predicament. But all methods were out of reach due to circumstances and his loss of cultivation. And even if he did it, Han Xing would never go further and his path would always be short. He would not give his child the second best, only the best. Recalling Han Xing's words, of wanting to live just a little longer to repay him, Han Yang did not hesitate any longer.
He began preparing silently, setting up formation flags and array plates that he had long not used. Taking out books and jade slips containing alchemical knowledge, wanting to refine the right pill for him. Han Yang took his time to thoroughly prepare, wanting to make everything as perfect as possible. At the same time he never left for too long, always taking care of Han Xing without miss each day.
A few years passed in a routine. Han Xing was already 6 years old this year. His body was still small relative to his age due to his body's essence draining close to nothing.
He slept half of the day because it was getting tiring for him to even remain conscious. But the life in his eyes never faded.
His prosthetics were replaced a few times as he grew up, and he was already used to them like they were his own. Han Xing also got a knack for carving sculptures over the years. Day by day, with patience, he gained the skills steadily.
Han Yang was proud and happy when Han Xing showed him a 'figurine' in the image of Han Yang, with a pose of a sword immortal riding a sword. Han Xing's special senses to see through the eye of the soul was refined, to a point he could image Han Yang's face clearly. Han Yang was not surprised given he was born with Immortal physical constitutions originally; which meant his soul too had depth of an immortal. But this ability was never able to flourish more than seeing a few meters around himself due to his physical body.
Han Yang looked at the calendar today. It was an auspicious day, an auspicious number, and the sun and moon position had a good omen.
Han Yang felt a sense of nervousness but also determination.
He went to the kitchen, preparing simple porridge for breakfast and waited for his son. In a few minutes Han Xing came at the same time as usual to eat together.
Han Yang was preparing his words, not sure how to bring this up. Before he could speak, Han Xing spoke.
"Dad, what's the matter? I noticed you seemed restless." Han Xing asked directly. Maybe he had no real eyes but he could sense it.
Han Yang took a deep breath, steadying himself for what he was about to say.
"Son… Do you want to live longer?"
Han Xing's expression turned a little relaxed, as if resigned.
"Dad, I am already happy with what I have." Han Xing said seriously.
"Son… don't say that… you can't just leave this old man alone. Don't you think how sad I would feel?" Han Yang's eyes already turned red hearing him say such words again. Why was he giving up earlier than this old man?
"... I… I guess you will… sorry dad." Han Xing felt a little guilty hearing him say that.
"If there's a way, I do want to stay a bit longer." Han Xing looked up at Han Yang, his voice earnest.
"I still haven't repaid you for everything you gave me."
"Son…" Han Yang's voice turned shaky. He put the spoon on his bowl, his back straightened.
"I have a way. But you have to listen carefully to what I am about to tell you."