Faces turned solemn. Some children quietly wept, their young hearts unable to understand why a hero had to leave.
Even Li Mei, usually composed, couldn't hold back her tears. Wu Chen had saved her from the brink of death in the forest, and since that moment, a deep bond had formed between them. They had grown close—Very close—and now, the thought of his departure struck her like a blade.
Others bowed their heads in silent respect. There was no bitterness—only a quiet, aching sorrow that the man who they admired and had changed their lives would soon walk away.
Then Old Man Zhang stepped forward, his eyes glistening but his voice steady. "Before you go, Wu Chen… we have something to show you. A gift—from all of us."
Wu Chen had long asked the elder to call him by name, refusing titles or honorifics. It was a small gesture, but one the elder respected deeply.
And so, Old Man Zhang honored that wish.
Wu Chen blinked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. He had noticed the villagers sneaking around over the past few days, working on something in secret. But he hadn't pressed them—figuring they needed the distraction, or perhaps were preparing for the future.
Now, however, his curiosity was fully piqued.
"What is it?" he asked, his tone lighter, touched with intrigue.
Old Man Zhang simply smiled and said, "Come. You'll see."
The villagers led Wu Chen to the center of the village square, where a towering object stood veiled beneath a large fabric.
A hush fell as four elders took hold of the covering's corners. With a collective tug, the fabric slid away like a retreating tide—
And there he was.
Carved from mountain granite, the statue towered three meters tall. Every detail was alive: the way his grip tightened mid-thrust on the spear, the wind caught in his robes, even the stubborn set of his jaw that villagers had come to recognize during training drills. They'd immortalized him not as a deity, but in mid-battle—forever defending them
Wu Chen stared in stunned silence, feeling something tightening in his chest.
An orphan's life had taught him to expect nothing. No roots, No legacy just been ignored and shunned.
Yet here they'd given him what no cultivator could seize with strength alone.
A place in their history.
Never had he known such warmth… such sincere recognition. The sheer thoughtfulness of it overwhelmed him—and for the first time in what felt like years, his vision blurred with unshed tears.
"You—" His voice cracked.
"This... this is too much," he murmured, voice catching in his throat. "I don't deserve such honor."
"You do," Old Man Zhang replied firmly. "You saved us, Wu Chen. You gave us hope when we had none. You faced what none of us could, and never once asked for anything in return. This statue is a reminder of your courage and selflessness. It will stand here forever, so that future generations will know of the man who protected us, when death came knocking."
Wu Chen bowed his head, the weight of their gratitude pressing against the quiet strength in his heart. After a long moment, he straightened, a faint but genuine smile playing on his lips.
"Thank you. This is the greatest gift I have ever received.
But I, too...have a gift for you."
The villagers murmured in confusion and curiosity as Wu Chen stepped forward, his expression calm and resolute.
He closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath as his aura began to stir. A soft wind swept through the square, and then, like mist at dawn, a faint, silvery smoke began to rise from his body. It spiraled upward, graceful and ethereal, weaving into a shape before their eyes.
The murmurs turned into stunned silence.
Before them, the smoke coalesced—solidifying, taking on form and presence. When it cleared, standing Beside Wu Chen was another Wu Chen, a perfect replica of him: his spirit apparition.
The villagers collectively gasped. Their eyes darted between the two figures, unable to tell them apart. From the quiet strength in his posture to the calm intensity in his eyes, the apparition mirrored Wu Chen flawlessly. It even radiated the same aura—steady and powerful.
It wasn't just a copy.
The connection between them pulsed in the air—something deeper than sight or shape. The villagers could feel it in their very bones. This was Wu Chen's will, made manifest.
And he was leaving a part of himself behind—for them.
"This is my gift to you," Wu Chen said softly, his voice carrying across the hushed square. "This apparition will remain behind, watching over the village in my place. It holds the same strength I possess—and in time, it will grow stronger still. With it here, peace will never waver."
The apparition turned to the villagers, its expression warm and serene. It gave a slight bow graceful and dignified then began to dissolve into silvery mist once more.
Heading to the Statue.
The smoke drifted gently toward the statue at the center of the square. As it seeped into the stone, a faint light pulsed from within the statue's eyes, casting a brief glow over the village. For a heartbeat, it felt alive then it dimmed and went back to normal.
"The statue will serve as its vessel," Wu Chen explained. "As long as the air holds spiritual energy, it will endure—silent, watchful, unyielding. A guardian in stone."
There was a stunned silence. Then, as the meaning sank in, the square erupted with cheers and tears. Laughter rang out, relief spread like wildfire, and for the first time in many seasons, the villagers felt completely safe.
A symbol of hope now stood at their heart—one that could not be broken.
Then Amid the celebration, Li Wei stepped forward, his eyes burning with resolve. He dropped to one knee and bowed deeply. "Teacher," he said firmly, "please take me with you. I wish to serve and learn at your side for as long as you'll allow."