The night was quiet, save for the distant roar of the waterfall. Under the moonlight, three immense figures moved silently through the forest, their steps measured, each stride carrying the weight of mountains. They were cloaked in long garments woven with faintly glowing sigils, each designed to blur their presence and muffle their essence qi, as though the world itself turned its eyes away from them. Still, even veiled, their silhouettes betrayed them: giants.
The tallest of the three walked at the front. His frame loomed well above the treetops, shoulders broad as stone cliffs. His hair was white streaked with silver, similar to his long beard that was braided down to his chest. This was Elder Fjord, one of the clan's ancient pillars. His aura, though suppressed, pressed faintly against the air like the weight of the sky itself. Though age was etched into his face, his stride betrayed enduring vigor.
Beside him walked the young clan leader, towering though not quite as tall, his height just short of three meters. His body was built with honed strength, each muscle tempered like steel beneath his skin, while his beard, though still short in length, was of a fiery red color. His features, though youthful, carried the pride of one who had been groomed since birth to lead. He was called Darak. His cloak swayed as he walked, faintly revealing the armored hide beneath- crafted from beasts slain by his own hand. His eyes, sharp and probing, flicked constantly toward the direction of the waterfall.
The third was smaller in stature, though still immense by human standards, standing a head taller than Darak. His frame was leaner, hands calloused and stained from countless hours with herbs and refinement. He was Alaric, an alchemist of the clan, brought not only for his knowledge of pills but for his discerning eye. A long pouch dangled at his side, filled with instruments and measuring tools. In his palm he carried something hidden- a small, runic artefact shaped like an eye said to detect lies. With it, they would see the truth of this human youth who had so unexpectedly come across their clan children.
The three giants spoke in hushed tones, their deep voices rumbling like distant thunder.
Darak's brow furrowed. "Are we certain he is harmless? Children can be naive. Their words said he smiled, gave them gifts, but it could be a mask."
Alaric's voice was measured, though tinged with curiosity. "Fiona described his pills as patterned. And after seeing them myself, I can confirm that they are not ordinary concoctions, but bordering on runic product. If true, then this is no ordinary human youth. Few alchemists of his age could attempt such refinement, much less succeed."
Elder Fjord's gaze was steady, his tone heavy. "That is why we go ourselves. If he bears ill intent, we end it here. If he is what they say… then we must know his origin. Gifts of patterned pills are not to be dismissed."
Darak scoffed softly, though his steps did not falter. "A human, alone, refining behind a waterfall. It is either one big coincidence, or a web of schemes."
Alaric adjusted the pouch at his waist. "Fiona said his essence was calm, not aggressive. You know how sensitive my daughter is to such things, and she felt… respect in his words. Not arrogance. Still, the Fulcrum Eye will tell."
The elder gave a low grunt. "Good. Then let us see."
The trio moved with care, their cloaks of sigils swallowing their bulk as they neared the clearing. The rush of the waterfall grew louder, spray glimmering in the moonlight. Then, through the trees, the sight revealed itself.
By the pond at the base of the waterfall sat a single figure. A youth, black-haired, his posture relaxed, with a composure that was reflected within his amethyst-dotted eyes. Before him rested a low stone table he had set with deliberate care. On his side of the table, a single porcelain cup, steam rising faintly from within. Across from him, three wooden mugs- giant-sized, carved with simple care- were already filled with a white liquid that gave off the warm aroma of cinnamon and milk.
The boy sat facing the pond, silver-gray eyes dotted with amethyst reflecting the moon's light. And though he should not have been able to see them through their cloaks, his lips curved into a faint smile as he gestured toward the empty seats.
"Welcome," Feiyin said lightly, voice carrying easily over the water's roar. "I thought you might be thirsty after your walk."
The giants paused. Darak's eyes narrowed, hand drifting subtly toward the hilt at his side. Alaric's brows rose in surprise. Even Elder Fjord's deep-set gaze lingered for a breath, caught between caution and intrigue.
Slowly, they stepped into the clearing. The waterfall's mist curled around them, and the moonlight revealed their immense statures in full. Yet Feiyin did not flinch. He remained seated, calm, one hand resting lightly on his cup.
Darak spoke first, his tone curious, intrigued by the youth's composure. "Who are you, human? Why are you here, so close to our lands?" He stepped slightly ahead, his bulk shielding the other two instinctively, though it was more for the dignity of the question than for protection.
Feiyin smiled faintly, unshaken. "Just a wandering cultivator. And perhaps an alchemist, if titles matter to you. As for why I am here… to rest, and refine in peace." He gestured toward the mugs. "And to share a drink, if my guests are willing."
Alaric's hand brushed the pouch at his side, the lie-detecting artefact humming softly. No flicker of falsehood stirred. His eyes narrowed slightly, thoughtful.
Elder Fjord's voice followed, deep and steady. "Our children spoke of you. They said you offered them pills, gifts no stranger should so freely give. Why?"
Feiyin's smile deepened, though it carried no mockery. "Because they were curious, and kind. And because goodwill, once sown, often bears fruit in times one least expects." He lifted his cup and took a slow sip, then set it back down with deliberate calm. "I have no reason to harm them. Nor you."
Again, the Fulcrum Eye remained silent. Alaric exhaled softly through his nose, watching the boy more intently.
Darak's curiosity deepened, but before he could ask, Feiyin tilted his head slightly, eyes bright. "But tell me… since you've come all this way, was it only suspicion that brought you, or perhaps curiosity too?"
The silence stretched, broken only by the waterfall's endless roar. Then Elder Fjord chuckled, a low rumble like shifting earth. "Sharp-tongued, this one. Not blind with fear."
Feiyin inclined his head politely. "Fear only blinds the heart. I believe it is better to see clearly, even when faced with mountains."
Alaric's lips quirked faintly at the phrase.
The introductions began then, the giants lowering their cloaks as courtesy demanded. Names were exchanged- Darak, young clan leader; Alaric, alchemist; Elder Fjord, elder of the clan. Feiyin offered only his name, Cai Feiyin, and the simple truth of being a cultivator seeking to better himself.
What followed was talk, measured at first, then shifting as each side tested the other. The giants asked of his origins, his purpose, probing for lies or hidden schemes. Feiyin answered with calm honesty, revealing little beyond his role as an alchemist and traveler, yet never once faltering. When pressed about the pills he gave the children, he merely smiled and explained that they were physique-nurturing, gifts for growth, nothing more sinister.
But when Alaric asked, almost offhandedly, whether he had truly refined patterned products, Feiyin did not deflect. Instead, he reached calmly into his sleeve and placed a single pill upon the stone table, its surface etched faintly with runic lines that glowed in the moonlight.
The giants stared. Even Elder Fjord's composed features tightened with shock. Darak's eyes widened, disbelief warring with awe. Alaric's hand hovered, fingers twitching with the urge to examine.
"This is no mere pattern…" Alaric whispered. "This is already a true rune!"
The elder's gaze grew sharp, almost greedy. "Boy… such skill, at your age…" His voice lowered, thunderous. "You should come with us. To the clan. With your talent and our strength, a future unshakable could be forged."
Darak nodded firmly, conviction blazing. "You should not be wasted in some forest cave. With us, your path will soar."
Feiyin's smile faded slightly, replaced by a coolness. His eyes glimmered faintly as he let the weight of his cultivation unfold. His aura surged, vast and oppressive, and with it came the sharp edge of his saber intent. The clearing trembled as if under the gaze of a storm, and for an instant, the giants felt the weight of a blade pressing against their throats.
They stiffened, surprise flashing in their eyes. Then, as abruptly as it came, the pressure receded. Feiyin leaned back once more, calm and smiling faintly.
"I appreciate the offer," he said softly, "but I am not one to be taken lightly. If we speak, let it be as equals."
The silence held for a moment. Then Elder Fjord threw back his head and laughed, deep and booming, shaking the clearing. Darak blinked, then chuckled with approval, respect evident in his gaze. Alaric only exhaled, shaking his head in amazement.
"Very well," the elder rumbled, amusement glinting in his eyes. "As equals, then. Let us drink."
And so the giants lowered themselves before the table, each taking the wooden mug prepared for them. Feiyin lifted his porcelain cup once more, and under the gaze of the moon, the four drank together- the youth and the giants, mountains and rivers sharing the same stream.