The sky darkened earlier than usual that evening.
Clouds gathered without wind, forming a heavy blanket over Willow Creek. Even the insects were quiet. The village dogs whimpered and hid beneath carts, refusing to bark.
Ling Chen noticed first.
He stood outside the hut holding a lantern, staring toward the forest line. Something pressed against his chest — not pain, but pressure, like the moment before a storm breaks.
"Old Yu," he said, "do you feel that?"
The old gravekeeper was already standing in the doorway.
His face was pale.
"…Go inside," Old Yu said. "Now."
Ling Chen had never heard fear in Old Yu's voice before.
But before he could move, Ren Tianhe stepped past them and walked toward the burial hill path.
He carried no weapon.
Only his staff.
"Stay inside," Ren Tianhe said calmly. "Do not come out, no matter what you hear."
Ling Chen grabbed his sleeve. "What's happening?"
Ren Tianhe looked at him — not as a traveler, but as something far older and sharper.
"A man who should not have noticed this place… has noticed you."
The air suddenly turned cold.
From the tree line, a figure appeared.
He did not walk so much as arrive. One moment the path was empty. The next, a thin man in dark robes stood halfway up the slope.
Ling Chen's breath caught.
He could not feel the man.
Not like other people. Not like graves.
It was as if the world around the figure had a hole in it.
The stranger's eyes locked onto Ling Chen immediately.
"So," the man said softly, smiling without warmth, "the disturbance was real."
Old Yu staggered backward.
Ren Tianhe stepped forward.
The wind died completely.
"You shouldn't be here," Ren Tianhe said.
The stranger laughed quietly. "A cultivator hiding in a mortal village… and protecting a boy Heaven cannot see?"
His gaze sharpened.
"Do you know how rare that is?"
Ling Chen's body refused to move.
The man's presence suffocated him. Every instinct screamed danger, yet he could not even step back.
The stranger took one step forward—
—and the ground beneath him cracked.
Ren Tianhe had moved.
Ling Chen didn't see how.
One moment Ren Tianhe stood beside him.
The next, the old traveler was already in front of the dark-robed man, sleeve extended.
The air split.
A sound like tearing silk echoed across the hill.
The stranger was thrown backward ten paces, boots carving furrows into the earth.
For the first time, his smile disappeared.
"…A Soul Ignition cultivator," he murmured. "Interesting."
Ling Chen stared.
This was not a fight like in stories.
It was terrifying.
No swords.
No shouting.
Just two people standing still — yet the air between them twisted violently, and the ground trembled under invisible force.
Ren Tianhe did not look back.
But he spoke softly.
"Ling Chen… go inside now."
The boy couldn't move.
Because the stranger, despite being pushed back…
was still staring directly at him.
And he said one sentence that Ling Chen would never forget:
"That child… is a gap in Heaven's sight."