Chapter 4 – A Crack in the Routine
The following days were quiet. Too quiet, even for a village this small.
The same footsteps, the same voices. The same dog barking near the well. The same clouds drifting by unhurriedly. But Hei Tian no longer looked at them the same way.
In old Shen's courtyard, the routine persisted: preparing herbs, cleaning tools, helping to gather plants in the hills.
That day, he left earlier than usual to deliver herbs to an elder of the village. Walking along a small tree-lined path, he spotted a group of young disciples. They wore the blue robes of the local martial school. One of them, Ji Rong, the blacksmith's son, was training hard in the technique of the "Falling Mist Fist."
— Still watching? Want to learn maybe? Ji Rong said with a mocking smirk.
Hei Tian didn't respond. He observed. Calmly. Then he spoke.
— Your third strike collapses too soon. You lose momentum.
Ji Rong frowned. Another disciple snickered.
— And you think you know better? You're one of the rats who gather leaves for old Shen, not a warrior.
— I didn't say anything else, Hei Tian replied. Just an observation.
Ji Rong stepped forward. His tone hardened:
— You think just because you observe well, you can understand what we go through? What we feel? You've never taken a hit.
Hei Tian stared at him.
— And you've never truly observed what's around you.
There was a silence.
That day, there was no fight. Just a faint disturbance in the air, like a shifting wind. One of the older disciples glanced at Hei Tian, thoughtful.
That evening, Chen Mu handed him a new box of herbs.
— You're progressing faster than expected.
— I'm not the one moving forward, Hei Tian replied. It's the world that's cracking.
The old man didn't know what to say.
In the child's gaze, something had ignited. A calm, cold glint. The beginning of a flame. Not one of anger or ambition.
A flame of lucidity.
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