Days slipped by in quiet succession. The daylight stretched longer, and every evening the chorus of grasshoppers and crickets filled the air. The weather warmed, the trees grew lush with life, flowers bloomed in waves of color, and butterflies danced freely in the summer breeze.
Summer had reached its peak, only one season away from the next Day of Spirituality.
By now, Ling Ye had spent nearly eight months in the village as its acting head. His workload had gradually lessened as time passed. The plans he had devised and the reforms he had enforced had already taken root, there was little left to adjust.
All that remained was to wait and watch them play out. Until then, no new plans could be made.
The villagers bustled with labor, each busy with their own tasks. Yet Ling Ye sat idle for once, staring out the window with cold, weary eyes. His face betrayed exhaustion, his mind never knowing true rest.
He let out a long sigh. Eight months… Eight months of restless nights, endless inspections, corrections, and instructions, drilling discipline into mortals who had known only complacency. The memory of it all weighed on him.
"It must work now," Ling Ye muttered under his breath. He knew he had done everything possible. Beyond this, there was nothing left to do but wait for events to unfold. Only when change came could he plan further.
His gaze drifted to the desk before him. Upon it lay the five talismans, always within arm's reach. Every time his eyes fell upon them, he recalled that night he had nearly died… and the lingering aftereffects the talismans left etched into his body and mind.
Ling Ye's eyes lingered on the most worn of the talismans, the dirty yellow slip marked with the arrow.
Memories of those agonizing days of relentless headaches returned to him, and he finally understood: using a talisman carried a price. The backlash, whether pain, exhaustion, or worse, was unavoidable. Yet Ling Ye did not feel anger or resentment toward this drawback.
To him, a few days of splitting headaches were a small price to pay for a weapon capable of slaying a cultivator, perhaps even one as strong as Old Qing.
At the thought of Old Qing, Ling Ye snorted bitterly. He still remembered how the old man had stolen the credit for killing the black-robed cultivator, even shamelessly looting the corpse for himself.
Ling Ye had been powerless to protest, forced to swallow the injustice in silence.
"Mortals are powerless before cultivators…" He had read those words countless times in books, but only after that night did he truly grasp their meaning. Now he understood more clearly than ever:
"Cultivators can strip a mortal of everything and face no consequences."
The realization was painful, and for a time it left Ling Ye fearful. After all, he too was helpless before true cultivators. But as despair threatened to take root, his gaze returned to the talismans, and with them came a spark of defiance.
With these talismans in his grasp, he was no longer completely powerless. Though he lacked strength of his own, he held weapons that even cultivators would tread cautiously around. The balance had shifted, while they could suppress him, he too now had the means to suppress them.
A faint smile tugged at Ling Ye's lips as he gazed into the mirror. He had changed, both in body and in spirit.
He stood a little taller now, his features sharper, his bearing steadier. In the reflection, he saw more of his father in himself, the same shape of the face, the same eyes, though his own were black rather than golden. With that single difference, one might almost mistake him for his father, or so he believed.
After all, he only had a handful of faded images of the man, and the eyes were what he remembered most clearly.
As for his mother… Ling Ye thought he had inherited her straight black hair, but he couldn't be sure. She had died too early in his life for him to truly remember her. His memories of her were few: sharing meals at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Beyond that, there was little else.
Most of his youth had been spent not with his parents, but with Old Wang, until the old man passed away and Ling Ye later met Wang Xin.
"...Hehe." Ling Ye let out a dry chuckle. Thinking back, he realized that nearly everyone in his life had either used him or disliked him. Only Old Wang had genuinely wanted to know him, genuinely spent time with him without any hidden motive.
A bitter smile replaced the fleeting laughter. Ling Ye turned away from the mirror, rose from his chair, and gathered his things. Naturally, he tucked all of his talismans into his breast pocket before stepping outside.
As he walked through the village, workers and idlers alike greeted him. He offered nothing more than a curt nod in return, his expression indifferent, and continued on his way without another word.
As Ling Ye walked through the village, his eyes lingered on the changes he had brought about. The once dusty dirt roads were now paved with asphalt, and the houses that had been on the verge of collapse stood sturdier, many of them remodeled under his direction.
That task had been the most troublesome and time-consuming, yet it was also the one that left him with the greatest sense of accomplishment.
After nearly an hour of wandering, he reached the edge of the village, where a small courtyard stood. The closer he came, the more noise reached his ears. Over the past month, more youths had joined the training.
At first, many of them had rejected his offer, but after the events of the Founding Feast, when they had witnessed firsthand how powerless they truly were. they returned, determined to gain some strength of their own. Even so, Li Mo remained the most outstanding among them.
Without hesitation, Ling Ye stepped into the courtyard and looked around.
No one noticed him at first; they were all focused on their own training. Ling Ye's gaze eventually fell on Zhou Wu, who was gathered with a small group of children seated on the ground. Zhou Wu himself stood before them, animatedly telling stories.
This had been Zhou Wu's own request, to teach the youngest children while Ling Ye oversaw the older youths.
Ling Ye had agreed without objection, and so Zhou Wu split his time between training sessions to guide the little ones.
Unaware of Ling Ye's watchful eyes, Zhou Wu continued his tale, speaking of the village's past. He told them of the famous cultivator who had once helped the wandering village settle under the Ling Clan's protection. Yet he left out the decline that followed.
After that cultivator, only one other had ever risen from his family, and in time even his name was forgotten.
His descendants dwindled into ordinary mortals, with the last of them serving as village head before dying without leaving a successor.
Recalling this only took a moment before his presence was finally noticed by a child. At first, they ignored him, but as more children turned their heads, Zhou Wu too followed their gaze and finally saw Ling Ye.
Zhou Wu smiled brightly and chuckled. "Children, who would have guessed that our honored Village Head would grace us with a visit today! Come, greet the Village Head properly!"
The children instantly straightened up, realizing who Ling Ye was. In unison, they called out,"Greetings, Sir Village Head!"
Although their voices were respectful, a few trembled slightly with fear, realizing that the aloof figure before them was truly the Village Head. Ling Ye only gave them a blank look, nodded once, and said plainly, "Continue. Pretend I'm not here."
With those simple words, Ling Ye walked past them. Zhou Wu, powerless to change his attitude, could only sigh before continuing his lecture about the village's past.
Moving farther into the courtyard, Ling Ye observed the youths. Some were sparring fiercely, testing their strength against one another; others sat cross-legged with their eyes closed, focusing on breathing techniques.
A few leaned by the newly built spring, talking quietly and sipping water to recover.
It was definitely a lively place, full of the atmosphere of youth. As Ling Ye stepped closer, a few of the trainees instantly recognized him and saluted.
"Greetings, Village Head!"
With the first salute came the second, and soon after, all the youths followed suit, their voices rising together in respect. Ling Ye only gave a small nod, acknowledging their greetings, before letting his gaze sweep across everyone present.
This was only the second time he had come to this courtyard, the first being when he originally offered to train them. Now, months later, he returned to see what had become of that promise, and much had indeed changed.
The small hill that once stood in the middle had been leveled, the ground trampled flat by constant training. The robes of the youths were dirt-stained from effort and exertion, the only clean areas being around the spring and the small corner where Zhou Wu sometimes taught the younger children.
There were even a few small houses built that Ling Ye hadn't known about. But he didn't care. He had given the youths full freedom to do whatever they wished with the courtyard. Zhou Wu had once visited randomly to check in, but now, eight months later, he only came when he was scheduled to teach.
All of this was noteworthy, but not what Ling Ye considered truly important. What mattered was their training.
"Continue with your training," he said calmly.
At once, the youths, both boys and girls, straightened with excitement. Eager to prove themselves, they began to demonstrate their abilities, showcasing the two techniques Ling Ye had given them.