Stepping onto the old stairs at the foot of the mountain, Ling Ye approached the village's largest tavern, the Old Hill Tavern.
The stairs were clearly ancient, worn by time and weather, their stone chipped and cracked from years of neglect. Yet, despite their age, they remained steady underfoot.
As Ling Ye climbed the small hill, the sounds of laughter and merriment reached his ears, the unmistakable noise of mortals enjoying the Founding Feast.
When he finally reached the top, the sight before him was lively and warm. Countless tables overflowed with mugs of ale and plates of food. People laughed and smiled, children ran about freely, playing among themselves without a care in the world.
The most striking difference between Ling Ye and everyone else was the clothes they wore. While they too dressed in robes, theirs were made of coarse fabric, simple and unadorned. Ling Ye's robe, in contrast, was fine silk, dark blue with intricate patterns of a bird and a snake, marking him instantly as different.
No one noticed him yet; they were too caught up in their carefree joy, untouched by the burdens of responsibility.
Ling Ye stood there for a moment, staring at them, frozen in thought. Watching these carefree mortals, a flicker of envy and jealousy rose within him. But he closed his eyes, forcing those feelings down.
When he opened them again, the warmth in his gaze was gone, replaced by coldness and aloof detachment.
With that, Ling Ye stepped forward. After scanning the crowd, he spotted Zhou Wu and made his way toward him.
Zhou Wu was in the middle of drinking from a large mug, probably beer, Ling Ye guessed, but he didn't care enough to confirm it. As Ling Ye approached, Zhou Wu noticed him, smiled, and gave him a playful wink.
When Ling Ye reached him, Zhou Wu handed over a fresh mug. From the rich, yeasty aroma, Ling Ye immediately recognized it as beer, just as he'd read about in books. Taking the mug, he quietly sat down, speaking to no one, simply watching as the villagers laughed and enjoyed themselves.
Seeing the village head silently observing the crowd, Zhou Wu chuckled, covering his mouth slightly.
"Hehe, Village Head, how are you finding our Founding Feast?"
Ling Ye lifted his head, glanced at Zhou Wu's flushed, drunken face, then looked away again. For a few moments, he said nothing. Just as Zhou Wu was about to give up on a reply, Ling Ye finally spoke.
"Good, I guess."
The words were flat and cold, but Zhou Wu only laughed and nodded, taking another long sip from his own mug.
"Then, Village Head, I hope you enjoy yourself! As your humble Zhou Wu, I must drink in your honor, after all, we can't have the villagers thinking the office workers under the village head can't outdrink everyone else here! Hahaha!"
Laughing, Zhou Wu wandered off, leaving Ling Ye alone at a small table with the mug of beer Zhou Wu had given him. Ling Ye sat in silence, his gaze drifting up to the moon.
For once, his thoughts were still and clear. He allowed himself a rare moment not to worry about responsibilities, but simply to enjoy the night.
Time passed, and many villagers came to greet him, some thanking him for the changes he had brought, others offering opinions on his actions or suggesting new ideas for the future. Ling Ye gave no verbal replies, only glancing at each speaker and nodding in acknowledgment.
Eventually, people noticed that no matter who tried to start a conversation, the village head never truly spoke back. After a while, the greetings dwindled.
When the moon reached its highest point, it was time for the special event Ling Ye had planned, a simple fighting contest. To him, it was nothing extraordinary, but to the mortals of the village, it was a rare and exciting spectacle.
In a village with almost no trained warriors, fights were usually nothing more than the occasional drunken scuffle. The chance to see trained mortal youths, ones who might one day become cultivators, competing in a real contest was a thrilling prospect for everyone.
As the event began, the dancing area was cleared, and a slightly drunken Zhou Wu staggered toward the center of the open space.
With a smile and eyes that were clear of drunkenness, though his flushed face still betrayed the alcohol, Zhou Wu called out excitedly,
"Hello, my fellow villagers! Today, we will present the progress our young trainees have made in their training! Are you excited?"
The villagers roared back in enthusiasm, their cheers echoing through the night. Zhou Wu laughed heartily, showing a wide grin and his white teeth.
"HAHA! Then let me explain how this little contest will work!"
The cheering subsided, and everyone leaned in to listen, especially the young trainees.
"It's simple," Zhou Wu began. "A trainee will step into the center where I'm standing now and face one of their fellow trainees. The one who remains standing until the end… wins! Simple enough, right?"
The trainees nodded in unison, their eyes fixed on him. Zhou Wu's smile grew wider.
"And remember..." he raised his voice, "the last one standing will receive a reward chosen by the village head himself!"
That was all it took. The children's blood boiled with excitement, and a confident young boy stepped forward first, flashing a daring smile at his peers. One of the others quickly accepted the challenge, and the first match began.
Ling Ye watched the fights closely, though without much personal excitement. In his mind, no matter how strong a mortal became, it didn't guarantee they would ever step into the path of cultivation.
Still, greater strength meant a higher chance of being blessed by the heavens and that was worth watching.
The fights themselves weren't anything special, at least not to Ling Ye. His mind was far sharper than most children of any age, allowing him to analyze and predict movements with ease. With just a glance and a few small observations, he could guess the trainees' next moves.
Of course, this was only because he already knew all the techniques they had learned, if he hadn't, it might have taken him much longer to read their actions.
One match followed another. The villagers cheered loudly, some shouting for one trainee while others rooted for their opponent. Excitement buzzed in the air, and before long, some even started betting money on the outcomes.
That ended quickly, however, when Zhou Wu firmly announced that betting was not allowed.
Though the matches bored him, Ling Ye couldn't deny that the atmosphere on the hill had a certain charm. Without realizing it, he took a few sips from his untouched mug of beer. It was the first time he had ever tasted it, though he drank only enough to enjoy the flavor, not to get drunk.
Even now, enjoying the scene before him, he knew the worries lingering in the back of his mind might still come true.
Many villagers approached him, asking which child he thought was the most promising. Ling Ye didn't answer any of them, merely glancing in their direction before turning his gaze back to the fights.
Time passed, and the contest eventually came to an end, with Li Mo claiming victory.
The final match had been the most thrilling of the night. Li Mo, nearly at the limit of his strength, feigned complete exhaustion. Then, in a sudden burst, he launched a surprise attack, catching his opponent off guard and winning the bout.
As the deciding strike landed, the crowd erupted into cheers and applause, their shouts all directed toward the tired but triumphant Li Mo.
Ling Ye clapped a few times, then stood from his chair for the first time in nearly five hours. But as he rose, an uneasy feeling washed over him.
The villagers were all watching, expecting him to speak. Yet instead of addressing them, Ling Ye's gaze swept the area carefully. They waited in silence for his words, but they would never come.
His eyes fixed on the darkness of a nearby mountain, and a chilling certainty gripped him: someone was there. And if he didn't act, he would die. He knew it with absolute clarity.
The shadows no longer seemed so deep. The night itself began to change before his eyes, details sharpening, shapes in the darkness becoming distinct. Trusting his instincts, Ling Ye reached for one of the talismans he had taken with him.
He didn't know which one his hand had grabbed, but the moment he bit his thumb and smeared a thin streak of blood across the dirty yellow paper, he found out.
The talisman flew to his side, projecting the image of a sharp arrow in his mind. In that instant, the world transformed.
The night and day became one, darkness no longer existed. Colors bled into everything, even thin streams of light flowing through the air itself. Ling Ye didn't understand what he was seeing, but his vision was sharper than ever.
And there, standing on the slope of the mountain near the village was a figure clothed entirely in black, watching them with a cold, heavy gaze.
Without hesitation, Ling Ye locked eyes on the black clothed figure and said coldly,
"Pierce."
His voice was not loud, yet the moment the word left his lips, the talisman flared with light, its form manifesting in the air before him. It shot forward like a streak of pure force, aimed precisely at the spot Ling Ye had been staring at.
The villagers around him panicked, murmurs breaking out as they turned to see where the glowing arrow was headed.
They had never witnessed anything like it before. The arrow's speed was incredible, crossing the distance from the hill to the neighboring mountain in the time it took to draw five breaths.
For ordinary mortals, it was a blur, but for the black clothed figure, it was not entirely unavoidable, though it was still deadly.
After releasing the talisman, Ling Ye's enhanced vision began to fade, the world dimming back to normal. Yet three breaths later, he knew.
The arrow had struck its mark.