Dawn broke with a gentle light as Li Yuan began to dig graves on a small hill to the south of the village. The ground was hard from the dry season, but his hands, which had been blessed with thousands of years of experience, moved with a steady, respectful rhythm.
Three graves for the three fallen men of Millbrook: Harold the Baker, Young Tom, and Marcus Elder. And one larger grave for the remains of the Drakemoor soldiers their commander didn't get to take—scattered body parts, severed limbs, and some bodies too damaged to be identified.
Death knows no sides, Li Yuan mused as he dug. In the end, we all return to the same ground.
Thomas Aldrich, though still weak with both arms bandaged, sat on a stone watching Li Yuan's work. Anna and Margaret helped prepare simple shrouds for the deceased.
"Yuan," Thomas said in a soft voice, "I still can't believe they're really gone."
Li Yuan stopped digging for a moment, his eyes looking toward the village where the three men had once laughed, worked, and dreamed of a peaceful future.
"They're not gone, Thomas," he replied gently. "They live in every memory we carry, in every lesson they left behind, in the way they changed our lives for the better."
After a simple but dignified funeral—with all the villagers gathered to pay their last respects—Li Yuan stood in front of the community of Millbrook. Bags and carts were ready, livestock were gathered, and faces showed a mixture of sadness at leaving home and tension at facing an uncertain journey.
"Before we begin this journey," Li Yuan said in a voice that everyone could hear, "I want you to understand something important."
He walked slowly in front of the crowd, his eyes looking at every familiar face.
"This world is vast," he continued. "Vaster than you can ever imagine. Don't just focus on the place we live now. In other parts of the world, there are people just like us—farmers who work hard, families who love each other, children who play and dream."
Old Pete raised his stick. "What do you mean, Yuan?"
"Some may live worse than us," Li Yuan explained. "In places where wars never stop, where the land is barren, where rulers don't care about their people. And there are also those who live better—in peaceful valleys, on islands far from political conflict."
David Miller, who was still weak but insisted on walking on his own, asked: "Why didn't the Kingdom of Astoria ever come to help us? Aren't we their people?"
Li Yuan nodded, acknowledging a question that had been bothering many residents.
"Millbrook is a remote village," he answered honestly. "We are on the border between the Kingdom of Drakemoor and the Kingdom of Astoria. For both kingdoms, we are probably just a small dot on a map that isn't strategically very important."
"So we were abandoned?" Anna asked with a bitter tone.
"By the rulers, perhaps," Li Yuan conceded. "But not by the world. Across the sea, there are other humans who may be going through similar things. There are other remote villages struggling to survive, other families looking for peace."
He stopped and looked at the horizon, where the sun was beginning to rise higher.
"Our journey is not just about finding a safe place. It's about understanding that we are part of something bigger. That wherever we go, we carry the values of Millbrook—kindness, cooperation, a sense of mutual protection."
Sarah Miller, who was still grieving over her son's severe wounds, asked in a trembling voice: "But how will we know that the place we're going will accept us?"
Li Yuan smiled, and in that smile, there was a soothing warmth.
"Because kindness recognizes kindness," he replied. "Wherever there are people who value honesty, hard work, and compassion, they will see those same values in us."
Marcus, who was finally able to stand despite still feeling dizzy, stepped forward. "Yuan, you talk as if you have seen a wider world than this."
Because I have, Li Yuan thought inwardly. I have witnessed the rise and fall of kingdoms, the birth and death of civilizations, the kindness and cruelty of humans in various parts of the world for thousands of years.
But what he said was: "I have met people from faraway places. Traders, wanderers, even some soldiers who deserted from wars they didn't understand. They all told stories about where they came from—some were beautiful, some were horrible. But no matter where they were from, they were looking for the same thing: a safe home, a loving family, and a meaningful life."
Margaret Aldrich wiped a tear with the back of her hand. "So we'll be okay?"
"We'll be more than just okay," Li Yuan answered with quiet conviction. "We will be an example to the world of how a small community can survive and thrive by supporting each other."
Robert, who still had to use a crutch because of his shattered leg, raised his hand. "But Yuan, what about new enemies? What if in the new place, there are other threats?"
Li Yuan looked at him with understanding eyes.
"There will always be threats, Robert. That's part of life. But what makes us strong is not the absence of threats—it's the way we face them together. Yesterday, we proved that farmers and traders can stand against a professional army when they're protecting what they love."
He pointed toward the newly dug graves.
"Harold, Tom, and Marcus Elder didn't die in vain. They showed that there are things more precious than our own lives—family, community, and the values we hold."
James, who was still blind in both eyes, spoke in a voice full of emotion: "I can no longer see the world, Yuan. But I can still feel the warmth of all of you. That's enough for me."
James's words made many people cry, but not tears of sadness—rather, tears of pride and love.
Li Yuan felt something vibrate inside his Zhenjing. Although all the Understandings were wrapped securely, he could still feel the faint emotional resonance of this small community—love, loyalty, and an unwavering determination.
This is what true strength means, he understood. Not the ability to destroy enemies, but the ability to create something so precious that people are willing to die to protect it.
"Alright," he said, clapping his hands once, "it's time to begin our journey. We'll move slowly, rest when we need to, and look out for each other along the way."
As the small convoy of Millbrook began to move—carts creaking, small feet running between adults, livestock following obediently—Li Yuan walked in the back, making sure no one was left behind.
He looked back one last time at the village that had become his home. The empty houses stood with open windows, like eyes sadly watching their departure. The wind blew slowly through the quiet streets, carrying the familiar scents of earth, grass, and memories.
Goodbye, Millbrook, he said inwardly. Thank you for teaching me the true meaning of home.
And with that, they stepped toward the unknown horizon, carrying the values of Millbrook into a wider world, ready to write a new chapter in the story of a small community that refused to give in to despair.
In his Zhenjing, the seventeen wrapped Understandings vibrated gently, like a song that promised a new adventure and possibilities yet to be imagined.