Five years passed in the blink of an eye.
The storm that had shaken Qinghe City on the night of Yuan Tian’s birth had long become a story told only by elderly servants during quiet evenings.
Some claimed Heaven itself had roared in celebration.
Others insisted it had been nothing more than an unusually violent summer storm.
Time had a way of turning extraordinary events into ordinary memories.
Life within the Yuan Clan continued as it always had.
The eastern sky had only begun to brighten when the first sounds of activity echoed throughout the estate.
Servants swept fallen leaves from the stone pathways.
Outer Clan disciples hurried toward the training grounds with wooden swords slung across their backs.
The fragrance of medicinal herbs drifted from the alchemy courtyard as cooks prepared breakfast for the hundreds of people who called the Yuan Clan home.
The estate awakened.
As it always did.
Yet one person had been awake long before sunrise.
Beneath an old willow tree overlooking the eastern pond sat a small boy dressed in plain blue robes.
His black hair swayed gently with the morning breeze.
His hands rested naturally upon his knees.
His clear eyes quietly followed the ripples spreading across the pond.
One fish surfaced.
A dragonfly landed upon a lotus leaf.
A single willow leaf detached from its branch and drifted into the water.
The boy watched until the ripples completely disappeared.
Only then did he lower his gaze.
“…Everything leaves a trace.”
He spoke so softly that even the wind almost carried the words away.
“Young Master!”
A familiar voice echoed from behind him.
“Lady Yue has been looking everywhere for you.”
The boy turned and smiled.
“Sister Lan.”
The young maid walked toward him with a helpless expression, carrying a neatly folded cloak.
“You came here again.”
“I did.”
“You know Lady Yue worries whenever she can’t find you.”
“I know.”
“Then why do you keep sneaking away?”
Yuan Tian thought for a moment before answering honestly.
“I’m not sneaking.”
“I just wake up earlier.”
Sister Lan covered her mouth, trying not to laugh.
“You always have an answer.”
She gently draped the cloak over his shoulders.
“The mornings are still cold.”
Yuan Tian looked down at the cloak before quietly saying,
“…Thank you.”
Sister Lan smiled.
Although she had served the Yuan Clan for several years, she had never met a child quite like him.
He never shouted.
Never threw tantrums.
Never bullied servants.
Instead…
He thanked everyone.
Even the kitchen staff.
Sometimes she forgot he was only five years old.
“Come.”
She extended her hand.
“Breakfast is getting cold.”
This time…
Yuan Tian took it without protest.
…
The dining courtyard was already filled with laughter.
Several branches of the Yuan Clan gathered together each morning before beginning their daily routines.
Children chased one another between the tables.
Older disciples discussed yesterday’s sparring matches.
Clan elders quietly exchanged news from Qinghe City over tea.
It felt…
Alive.
“Mother.”
Lady Yue looked up from arranging breakfast.
“There you are.”
She walked over and gently brushed a loose strand of hair away from Yuan Tian’s forehead.
“You disappeared again.”
“I went to the willow tree.”
“I know.”
She smiled.
“I asked Sister Lan to find you.”
Yuan Tian lowered his head slightly.
“…I’m sorry.”
Lady Yue softly pinched his cheek.
“You don’t have to apologize.”
“But next time…”
“Tell me first.”
“…Alright.”
Behind them, Yuan Zhen chuckled.
“Our son listens to you far more than he listens to me.”
Lady Yue glanced sideways.
“Because you spoil him.”
“I do not.”
“You absolutely do.”
“I simply encourage his curiosity.”
“You bought him twelve history books last month.”
“They were on sale.”
“They were handwritten manuscripts.”
“…”
“…They were reasonably priced.”
Lady Yue laughed.
Even Yuan Tian couldn’t help smiling.
Moments like these had become common within their small family.
Simple.
Peaceful.
Yuan Tian liked them.
Very much.
As breakfast continued, his eyes wandered toward the training grounds beyond the courtyard wall.
Wooden swords repeatedly collided.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Young disciples practiced the Yuan Clan’s Basic Sword Art beneath the watchful gaze of an instructor.
Every movement appeared identical.
Or…
At least it should have.
Yuan Tian quietly watched for several moments.
Then he turned toward his father.
“Father.”
“Hm?”
“The disciple in the fourth row.”
“He keeps lowering his left shoulder.”
Yuan Zhen glanced toward the training grounds.
“So?”
“If he keeps doing that…”
“…won’t his balance become worse every time he swings?”
Yuan Zhen blinked.
He looked more carefully.
One disciple.
Fourth row.
Left shoulder.
Sure enough…
The boy lowered it slightly before every strike.
The mistake was subtle.
So subtle that even the instructor hadn’t corrected it.
“…Interesting.”
After breakfast, Yuan Zhen walked toward the training grounds.
He said nothing.
Instead, he observed.
Ten breaths later…
He called the instructor over.
The instructor frowned before immediately correcting the disciple’s posture.
Only then did he notice the mistake.
When Yuan Zhen returned home later that morning…
He found Yuan Tian quietly reading beneath the willow tree again.
“…How did you notice?”
Yuan Tian looked up from his book.
“The others moved together.”
“He didn’t.”
Yuan Zhen remained silent.
His son had never practiced swordsmanship.
Yet…
His eyes caught details many cultivators overlooked.
He smiled.
Perhaps…
Observation was also a kind of talent.
…
By noon, the warm sunlight had driven many children outdoors.
Groups of youngsters chased one another across the courtyards while others competed to see who could climb the old plum trees the fastest.
Several cousins called toward Yuan Tian.
“Come play with us!”
He closed his book.
“I’ll come later.”
“You always say that!”
One boy crossed his arms.
“You like books more than people.”
Yuan Tian smiled apologetically.
“I like both.”
“I just don’t think books complain as much.”
The children stared.
Then burst into laughter.
“You sound like Elder Shen!”
One by one, they ran off.
Yuan Tian watched them disappear around the corner.
Then quietly returned to reading.
Not because he disliked playing.
He simply…
Enjoyed understanding things.
Sometimes…
People.
Sometimes…
History.
Sometimes…
Nothing at all.
Only silence.
…
The Yuan Clan Library stood near the northern courtyard.
Unlike the noisy training grounds, very few disciples visited it willingly.
The scent of aged paper lingered in the air.
Rows upon rows of books stretched toward the ceiling.
Some were copied by hand.
Others had survived generations.
The elderly librarian looked up as the wooden door creaked open.
“You’ve returned.”
Yuan Tian bowed politely.
“Good afternoon, Elder Shen.”
The old man smiled.
“I was wondering how long it would take.”
“I finished the last one.”
“So quickly?”
Yuan Tian gently placed the borrowed book upon the desk.
“I had questions.”
Elder Shen laughed.
“You always do.”
He disappeared between the shelves before returning with another worn volume.
“This one isn’t about cultivation.”
“It’s about Qinghe City’s history.”
“I think you’ll enjoy it.”
Yuan Tian accepted the book with both hands.
“…Thank you.”
As he opened the first page, a faded illustration of Qinghe City greeted him.
The city looked much smaller than it did today.
He slowly continued reading.
“Qinghe City was established more than four thousand years ago by three founding families…”
The Yuan Clan.
The Luo Clan.
The Bai Clan.
Nothing surprising.
Then…
A single sentence caught his attention.
“Long before the city existed, ruins already stood beneath the eastern district.”
Ruins?
His brows furrowed.
He turned the page.
Nothing.
The book immediately began discussing trade routes and ancient markets.
No explanation.
No description.
It was as though the sentence had never existed.
“…Why?”
He quietly whispered.
His fingers unconsciously traced circles across the dusty wooden table.
Without realizing it…
Lines began forming beneath his fingertips.
One curved stroke.
Two straight lines.
A perfect circle.
He froze.
“…”
Something about the symbol…
Felt familiar.
Yet impossible to remember.
A sudden breeze drifted through the open window.
The dust scattered.
The symbol vanished.
Dong—
A deep bell echoed throughout the Yuan Clan.
Yuan Tian slowly looked toward the window.
Dong—
A second bell.
Elder Shen immediately stood.
“The Clan Assembly Bell…”
His usually relaxed expression became serious.
Dong—
A third and final bell resounded across the estate.
Every disciple.
Every elder.
Every servant.
Stopped what they were doing.
Something important…
Was about to happen.
Books closed.
Training swords were lowered.
Even the cooks abandoned their kitchens.
Within the Yuan Clan, the Clan Assembly Bell rang only under three circumstances.
The election of a new Patriarch.
An enemy attack.
Or…
An announcement concerning the future of the younger generation.
Yuan Tian quietly closed the history book.
He glanced toward the page one last time.
“Long before the city existed, ruins already stood beneath the eastern district.”
The sentence lingered in his thoughts.
Why mention ruins…
Yet explain nothing?
“Elder Shen.”
The old librarian smiled faintly.
“Go.”
“The books will still be here when you return.”
Yuan Tian bowed respectfully.
“Thank you.”
As he turned to leave, Elder Shen watched the little boy’s back disappear beyond the doorway.
“…An interesting child.”
He had guarded the library for over sixty years.
Many children visited.
Most lasted only a few moments before becoming bored.
Only one…
Returned almost every day.
…
The central plaza had already become crowded.
Outer Clan members stood near the edges.
Inner Clan disciples gathered near the front.
Clan Elders occupied the stone platform overlooking the square.
Hundreds of people.
Yet…
Not a single unnecessary word could be heard.
Yuan Tian quickly found his parents.
Lady Yue smiled with relief.
“There you are.”
“I was in the library.”
“I guessed as much.”
She gently adjusted his robes.
“You should tell us before disappearing.”
“…I will.”
Beside them, Yuan Zhen rested a hand upon his son’s shoulder.
“Stay close.”
Yuan Tian nodded.
“…Yes, Father.”
Several children from the younger generation quietly whispered among themselves.
“Why did Grandfather call everyone?”
“I heard bandits attacked one of our caravans.”
“No.”
“My father said an elder is breaking through.”
“I think we’re finally going to the Secret Forest!”
One by one…
Rumors spread throughout the plaza.
None lasted very long.
Because at that moment…
The crowd suddenly became silent.
Yuan Lie had arrived.
The Patriarch walked calmly onto the stone platform.
He wore the same simple black robes as always.
No golden embroidery.
No extravagant ornaments.
Only quiet dignity.
Yet the moment he appeared…
Everyone instinctively straightened their backs.
Respect.
True respect…
Never required words.
Yuan Tian quietly observed his grandfather.
Strong.
Steady.
Calm.
Almost like the old willow tree near the eastern pond.
It simply stood there.
Yet everyone naturally sought shelter beneath it.
Yuan Lie allowed the silence to settle before speaking.
His voice wasn’t loud.
Yet every person heard it clearly.
“Three days from today…”
“…the Yuan Clan will conduct its Annual Cultivation Aptitude Examination.”
Excitement immediately spread through the younger generation.
Many children clenched their fists.
Some smiled.
Others nervously lowered their heads.
For them…
This examination would determine their future.
Whether they entered the Inner Clan.
Whether they received better cultivation resources.
Whether they would become ordinary disciples…
Or the future hope of the Yuan Clan.
Yuan Tian quietly watched everyone’s reactions.
His own remained unchanged.
He had never thought much about talent.
He simply…
Wanted to understand.
Yuan Lie continued.
“Every child who has reached the age of five…”
“…must participate.”
“As is the tradition of our clan.”
His gaze slowly swept across the crowd.
When it briefly passed over Yuan Tian…
It paused.
Only for an instant.
Then continued.
No one noticed.
Except Yuan Tian.
“…”
For some reason…
His grandfather’s eyes felt…
Heavy.
Not disappointed.
Not expectant.
Just…
Heavy.
As though carrying responsibilities too great for one person alone.
The assembly soon ended.
Adults resumed discussing clan affairs.
Children excitedly compared what Spiritual Roots they hoped to awaken.
“I hope I have a Fire Spiritual Root!”
“My cousin has a Wind Spiritual Root!”
“My father said even a Three-Leaf Spiritual Root is amazing!”
Their voices echoed throughout the plaza.
Yuan Tian remained quiet.
He slowly looked toward the clear afternoon sky.
Without warning…
A faint headache struck.
His vision blurred.
For the briefest moment…
The blue sky disappeared.
Rain.
Dark clouds.
White light.
A glowing monitor.
Then…
A voice.
The path…
The headache vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.
“…Young Master?”
Sister Lan looked at him with concern.
“Are you alright?”
Yuan Tian blinked.
“…I think so.”
“You turned pale.”
“I’m fine.”
He smiled reassuringly.
Although…
He wasn’t.
That voice…
He had heard it before.
Many times.
Always within dreams.
Always just before waking.
Yet no matter how hard he tried…
He could never remember the rest.
Only those two words.
The path.
“What path…”
He whispered unconsciously.
No one answered.
Far above Qinghe City…
Beyond the drifting clouds…
Something silently watched the little boy standing among the crowd.
Patiently.
Quietly.
As though waiting…
For the day he would finally remember.