Chapter 13: Huo Yuhao
A hundred li from Thunderclap City lay a tiny village that had once been utterly unremarkable—until its residents recently took it upon themselves to rename it. Now it proudly called itself "Holy Water Village."
The villagers felt the new name was both fashionable and deeply reverent. Though their mental image of the Water God's exact appearance relied entirely on imagination, it did nothing to dampen their devotion.
Huo Yuhao was carefully feeding his mother, Huo Yun'er, freshly brewed herbal medicine.
The village's original name, "Rocky Gully," had long since been cast aside. Now, on the crooked wooden sign at the village entrance, the freshly carved characters for "Holy Water Village" still showed the pale traces of raw wood.
Life was spare, but compared to those terror-filled, cold and hungry days in the White Tiger Duke's Manor, it was heaven and earth. That mysteriously appearing pouch of gold soul coins had been like sweet rain from the heavens, allowing mother and son to purchase a humble little house with a small yard in this relatively honest, simple place and settle down, at least for the time being.
But the principle that one cannot live off savings forever—Huo Yuhao, barely past ten, understood this better than anyone.
His mother's health had indeed improved since escaping that hellhole. No longer living in constant fear, her spirits eased, and with Huo Yuhao's meticulous care, she was far better than she'd been at the Duke's manor. But the years of accumulated exhaustion and illness had hollowed out her constitution far too deeply. She still coughed frequently, dreaded the cold and the wind, and needed continuous medication and careful nursing. With each passing day, the gold soul coins in their pouch dwindled—and the anxiety in Huo Yuhao's heart grew right along with it.
One evening, Huo Yuhao carried a wooden bucket to the well beneath the old locust tree at the village entrance to fetch water. There, he ran into the village's most well-informed and talkative neighbor, Auntie Wang. She was just returning with a basket full of wild greens, and a cluster of women had gathered around her. She was gesturing animatedly, words flying thick and fast.
"...Oh, you wouldn't believe it! The sight of it!" Auntie Wang's voice rang out as if she'd witnessed it firsthand. "I went with my husband to Thunderclap City last time to sell pelts, and I saw it from way off! At the gates of that Church of the Water God, the line stretched practically all the way around the square! A sea of people, livelier than the New Year's market!"
One of the women asked curiously, "Is it really that miraculous? That thing... what's it called again? Egg-something?"
"Cake! Fragrant and soft and fluffy—and I hear eating one can strengthen your body. Ate one, and minor aches and pains just vanish!" Auntie Wang corrected her, face glowing. "And that's not all! There's also that... oh, right—Coagulation Powder! Oh, heavens, now that's the real miracle! Old Zhang's wild little monkey of a boy insisted on climbing the back hill to raid bird nests the other day. He went tumbling down the cliffside and cracked his head wide open, blood gushing everywhere! We were scared half to death!"
"It just so happened that Old Li the Second from next door had come back from the city with a tiny vial of that Water God Church's Coagulation Powder. He rushed over and sprinkled it on. Hah! And guess what? The blood stopped on the spot! Within days, the wound had already scabbed over! Absolutely uncanny! Though I hear it's terribly expensive—Li the Second must've spent quite a sum."
Another woman, just finished with the laundry, chimed in: "Isn't that the truth! I've also heard they help kids awaken their martial souls for free! No matter rich or poor, if you're of age, you can go! They say their Pope is a lovely young lady, real beauty with a heart to match—like a celestial maiden! If she's not a true god, she's sure closer to one than most gods are."
"And that white-haired envoy gentleman—he handles matters with such fairness and reason! Now a lot of folks in the city are saying that the Church of the Water God is the only place that truly cares for us poor folk! So much better than those nobles and what have you."
"The Church of the Water God... free martial soul awakenings... miraculous medicines..." Huo Yuhao, standing off to the side, silently filed away every key word. His heart was like the surface of a lake disturbed by a stone, ripples spreading outward. Free martial soul awakenings? And medicines that effective? He looked down at his hands, roughened from years of labor, and thought of the stifled sound of his mother's coughing at night. An idea, unbidden and unstoppable, began to rise: Maybe... that place could cure Mother for good? Maybe they need an extra pair of hands, and I could earn money to buy better medicine for her?
He drew a deep breath, gathered his courage, and stepped forward. Politely, he asked, "Auntie Wang, this Church of the Water God you mentioned—it's in Thunderclap City?"
"Oh, if it isn't little Yuhao!" Auntie Wang turned and saw him, and her conversational dam burst even further. "Yes, yes—the oldest street on the west side of Thunderclap City. It's become the busiest spot in town now! What are you asking for? Thinking of going to get a cake and taste for yourself?"
She sized up this normally quiet but remarkably sensible child with a teasing tone.
Huo Yuhao shook his head, his eyes earnest beyond his years. "I heard you say they seemed very busy there—that they might need extra hands? I... I want to go and try. Find work. I'm a decent cook."
He thought of how he'd shouldered the burdens of life early to care for his mother, how he'd learned to make do with limited ingredients, and somehow, through it all, developed a hand in the kitchen. It wasn't refined or sophisticated, but he always managed to make simple meals flavorful and coax his mother into eating a few more bites. It was probably the most presentable skill he had to offer.
Auntie Wang, hearing this, studied him more carefully. The boy was young, but his eyes were clear and bright. He was a steady, hard worker—the village knew him as filial and sensible.
She nodded. "You are a diligent, reliable child. No harm in giving it a try! I hear they've indeed opened a little food stand there, business so good they can barely keep their feet on the ground! And the people in that church are all quite pleasant—not like those shopkeepers or lofty soul master types in the city who look down their noses at us country folk."
With this encouraging confirmation, Huo Yuhao felt a small weight lift in his chest. He thanked Auntie Wang and picked up his water bucket. But his steps were heavier than when he'd come, one measured footfall after another, as he made his way back to that humble yet warmth-filled little home.
His mother, Huo Yun'er, was propped up on the old couch by the window, doing needlework in the last rays of daylight. Her face was still somewhat pale, but the deadness in her eyes—the deadness from the Duke's manor—was gone, replaced by something alive, something luminous. Huo Yuhao set down the bucket and crouched before her. He hesitated for a long moment, then softly recounted everything he'd heard from Auntie Wang, along with the plan forming in his heart.
"...Mother, we don't have much money left. I want to go to Thunderclap City—to that Church of the Water God—and find work. I hear the people there are kindhearted, and they have very effective medicine. Maybe... maybe it could help with your health." His voice carried a young boy's stubborn determination, along with the faintest trace of buried hope, as he tried hard to keep his tone light. "I'll work hard. I'll earn money and buy you better medicine. You'll be at home alone... I..."
He couldn't finish. His heart was too full of worry and reluctance.
Huo Yun'er set down her needlework. She looked at her son's face—increasingly resolute, yet still so young—and saw the composure he'd forced over the worry brimming in his eyes. A deep ache flooded her heart, equal parts ache and pride.
She knew how early her son had grown wise beyond his years. Life's hardships had made him far more mature than others his age. She understood that when he set his mind to something—especially for her sake—she could not, in the end, hold him back.
She reached out a cool hand and gently stroked his hair, her voice soft but carrying a hint of frailty. "Go, my child. Your mother will be fine. Auntie Wang, Auntie Li, the others—they'll all look after me. You, out there on your own... be careful in all things. The city is not like the village. People's hearts are complicated. Don't put yourself forward recklessly. Nothing is more important than your safety."
She paused, a glint of tears in her eyes, but did her best to smile. "My Yuhao has grown up. He thinks of easing his mother's burdens now. Go do what you must. Your mother will wait for you."
"Yes, Mother! Don't worry! I'll definitely find work and earn money!" Huo Yuhao nodded firmly, as if pouring every ounce of his resolve into that single nod.
Over the next two days, Huo Yuhao prepared meticulously. He went specially to the village head and a few neighbors he was on good terms with, bowing deeply and earnestly asking that they keep an eye on his mother, alone at home, after he left. The villagers were all fond of this gentle, polite mother and son, and they thumped their chests in promises, telling him to set his mind at ease.
He found his neatest set of rough-spun clothes, patched it again and again, washed it clean, and hung it to dry. He carefully wrapped up the last bit of white flour and dried meat in the house and left it for his mother.
Finally, he packed a few flatbreads as provisions, a small pouch of water, and the White Tiger Dagger he wielded most comfortably—a relic from that so-called father. It served well enough to chop vegetables. With any luck, it'd serve well enough for self-defense on the road too.
The morning of his departure, the sky was barely beginning to brighten, the air carrying a lingering chill.
Huo Yuhao stood at the courtyard gate and looked back one last time at the window where his mother's lamp still burned with its faint glow. He drew a deep breath, turned, and stepped onto the dirt road toward Thunderclap City.
The boy's slight silhouette slowly faded into the morning mist, swallowed by the village road stretching ahead. But his steps were extraordinarily steady. He didn't know that this road, which seemed to lead only to a search for a livelihood, had far more than a cook's position waiting at its end. The threads of fate had long been quietly weaving, binding him to the Church of the Water God—and to a "Pope" he could never have imagined.
In this moment, there was only one thought in his heart, simple and pure: reach Thunderclap City, find the Church of the Water God, get a job that could support him and his mother, earn a bit of money, buy his mother that medicine everyone said was so effective, and train hard to become a soul master along the way.
The morning sun finally leaped fully above the horizon, spilling golden light across the road ahead of the boy and illuminating a future full of unknowns.