The walk back to Willow Creek was quiet.
Too quiet.
Normally the forest held life — insects chirping, leaves rustling, distant birds calling to one another. Now the trees stood motionless, and even the wind seemed reluctant to pass through the branches.
Ling Chen walked beside Ren Tianhe but kept glancing upward.
The sky looked normal again.
Blue. Empty. Peaceful.
Yet he could not shake the feeling that something far beyond sight had noticed him… and had not looked away.
"Master Ren," he finally said, "will that lightning come back?"
Ren Tianhe did not answer immediately.
He walked several steps before speaking.
"Yes."
Ling Chen's hands tightened.
"But not because you angered Heaven," Ren Tianhe added calmly. "Because you confused it."
They reached the edge of the burial hill as afternoon sunlight spread across the graves. The familiar sight should have comforted Ling Chen, yet now the hill felt different — like a place from his childhood that suddenly seemed smaller.
Ren Tianhe stopped near the nameless tomb.
"Sit," he said gently.
Ling Chen obeyed.
The old cultivator knelt and drew a simple circle in the dirt with a stick.
"Most cultivators gather Aether into their bodies," he explained. "They open meridians, strengthen bones, and refine their breath. Heaven recognizes them as beings walking a known path."
He drew a small dot inside the circle.
"This is a normal cultivator. Heaven observes, tests, and limits them."
Then he drew another mark — outside the circle.
"You are here."
Ling Chen frowned. "Outside?"
Ren Tianhe nodded.
"You did not step onto the path. The path reached toward you."
Ling Chen stared at the drawing.
"I still don't understand."
Ren Tianhe looked at the graves around them.
"Imagine a book," he said. "Every living being has a page written for them — birth, life, and death. Heaven reads these pages."
He pointed at Ling Chen.
"You… do not appear in the book."
The wind passed through the grass.
Ling Chen swallowed slowly.
"So Heaven… tried to check if I belong?"
"Yes," Ren Tianhe said quietly. "That lightning was not punishment. It was a question."
Ling Chen looked up again.
"And what if it asks again?"
Ren Tianhe's eyes softened.
"Then you must survive long enough to answer."
That night, Ling Chen lay down in the hut but sleep would not come.
His mind would not rest.
He could hear everything — the shifting soil beneath graves, Old Yu turning in his sleep, even distant villagers speaking inside their homes. Not words clearly, but impressions.
Emotions.
Loneliness from the old widow near the well.
Joy from a child laughing in a dream.
Fatigue from a farmer's aching muscles.
It was overwhelming.
He covered his ears.
It didn't help.
Hours passed.
He finally sat up, exhausted yet unable to sleep.
"Master Ren…" he whispered outside.
Ren Tianhe was already awake.
"I know," the old cultivator said softly.
Ling Chen looked at him with tired eyes.
"…I can't sleep anymore."
Ren Tianhe studied him carefully.
"This," he said, "is the first price."
Ling Chen looked confused.
"Cultivation changes a person. Some lose hunger. Some lose fear."
He paused.
"You have gained awareness."
Ling Chen looked toward the graves.
"It's too much."
Ren Tianhe nodded.
"The world has begun speaking to you. And it will not stop."
Ling Chen realized something then.
The lightning had not been the true beginning.
This was.