Departing the northern frozen earth, Tang Xiaoqi traveled ever eastward, his figure appearing on the shores of the East Sea. Salty sea wind replaced the biting cold. The boundless azure blue replaced the vast snowfields. He still sealed his cultivation, like an ordinary traveler, walking the winding coastline, feeling the customs utterly different from the interior and the northern lands.
One day, he passed through a small fishing village called "Watching the Tide." The village was not large—several dozen households sparsely scattered along a rocky bay. The houses were mostly low stone structures topped with thick sea grass to withstand the wind's erosion. Yet this fishing village now appeared especially dilapidated and silent.
On the village beach lay shattered boat planks, torn fishing nets, and some household item fragments bleached white by seawater. Several small fishing boats that had not been completely destroyed were dragged to higher ground, their hulls covered with shocking cracks, and scorched burn marks. The air hung with an atmosphere of sorrow and despair. Occasionally came the sound of women's suppressed crying, adding thick shadows to this scene.
Xiao Qi inquired of an old fisherman sitting at the village entrance, his gaze empty, staring at the sea. The old man's voice hoarse as he told him: three days prior, a rare storm had struck these waters, accompanied by a fierce tsunami. Most fishing boats going out had capsized. Nearly thirty percent of the village's young labor force had been lost. The remaining boats and nets that sustained their lives were severely damaged. Stored grain had also been destroyed by the inundating seawater. This already impoverished fishing village had been pushed to the brink of extinction by this natural disaster.
"Without boats, without nets, without people... how can we go on..." The old fisherman murmured, turbid old tears rolling down the furrows of his face.
Xiao Qi silently watched all this. He did not use magical power to smooth the waves, nor did he cast spells to conjure grain. He chose to stay.
He found an abandoned, half-collapsed stone hut at the village's edge, gave it simple cleaning, and moved in. The next morning, he joined the villagers' self-organized cleanup and reconstruction work.
He worked with others to sort the debris on the beach, collecting usable timber to repair boats. He picked through the seawater-soaked grain that wasn't completely moldy, laying it out to dry. He helped the women repair fishing nets not too severely damaged, his fingers bloodied by rough ropes, without concern.
Initially, the villagers maintained distance and curiosity toward this quiet yet capable outsider. But Xiao Qi merely silently worked, speaking little. When strength was needed, he was always at the forefront. When skill was needed, he could also propose some seemingly simple yet quite practical suggestions (those were based on his understanding of material structures and mechanics). Gradually, the villagers accepted him, calling him "Seventh Brother."
Reconstruction was exceptionally difficult. Lacking tools, lacking materials, more lacking confidence. Every tide's rise and fall seemed to remind them of nature's ruthlessness and their own insignificance. The despair like damp sea fog shrouded the entire village.
The turning point came one evening. Several half-grown children found in the rocky crevices at the seaside some shellfish they had never seen before. These shells were hard, with flesh inside exceptionally delicious. The children excitedly told the adults of their discovery.
However, the adults merely bitterly shook their heads. That rocky area had treacherous currents and complex underwater terrain. No one had ever dared fish there before—it was too dangerous.
Just as everyone again fell into silence, Xiao Qi stepped forward.
"I'll take a look." He said calmly.
In the villagers' worried and dissuading gaze, Xiao Qi borrowed the smallest, most dilapidated skiff, alone rowing toward that dangerous rocky area. He certainly wasn't going to his death. Though he had sealed his cultivation, his flesh body strength and perception of water currents far exceeded ordinary people. He skillfully used the currents and rocks' shelter, diving underwater, carefully surveying the area.
He discovered that the area did indeed have quite a few of those special shellfish, and because of the dangerous environment, the quantity was quite considerable. More importantly, he found a relatively safe, hidden waterway that could be used to enter and exit that dangerous area utilizing the tides.
When he returned safely, dragging a full basket of those called "Iron Shell Clams," the entire village erupted!
It wasn't because of how much food he had brought back—it was what he brought back that mattered even more: hope!
The village, which had been in absolute despair, suddenly erupted into commotion. It wasn't because of the food—though that was certainly welcome—but because he had brought back something even more important: a path forward!
In the following days, fishermen successfully returned from that rocky area with Iron Shell Clams. Though each harvest wasn't large and accompanied by risk, it substantively let the village see that there was a way out.
Meanwhile, Xiao Qi also began using the collected damaged boat planks and other materials, relying on his understanding far ahead of the era, fused with cultivation rune concepts (simplified to a level mortals could understand and make), to attempt to repair and transform a relatively lightly damaged medium fishing boat. His designed hull structure was more reasonable, better resisting wind and waves. He even designed a simple auxiliary sailing device utilizing the tides and the wind power.
His actions were like a stone dropped into stagnant water, creating ripples. The dead despair in the villagers' eyes began to be replaced by faint yet firm light. They worked even harder clearing the ruins, repairing nets, learning new fishing methods, participating in the new boat's construction. Even those women who had lost husbands and sons, enduring grief, worked day and night weaving nets and pickling the caught seafood.
Hope, like a lighthouse in darkness, though its light was faint, was enough to guide direction and unite the people.
Xiao Qi watched the villagers' faces regain vitality, watched them smile genuinely from the heart over the small harvests, watched them gradually straighten their spines through mutual support. His heart was deeply moved.
He once again profoundly realized that hope, for the struggling living beings, was how precious. It didn't need to be grand. Whether just a new shellfish type discovered in the rocky crevices, a slightly improved boat that might bring more harvests, or simply knowing there would be food tomorrow... these small, practical hopes were enough to support the people in the ruins to stand up, wipe away tears, and continue forward.
His path to Spirit Transformation seemed once more clearer. Protection was not merely resisting enemies and opposing powers—it was igniting and guarding that tiny light of hope in despair. Letting life itself's power continue and bloom.
When that new boat he guided the transformation of finally launched, sailing toward that hope-bringing rocky area amid the villagers' cheers, Xiao Qi knew it was time to leave this fishing village that was slowly healing its wounds and rekindling vitality.
He still did not reveal any extraordinary aspects. One dawn, as quietly as he had come, carrying simple luggage, he departed from the Watching the Tide Village, continuing his unfinished mortal journey. Behind him, rising from the fishing village, were wisps of symbolizing rebirth and hope, and that boundless azure sea that had nurtured the disaster, also nurtured life and hope.