The wind blew, dry and biting. The forest, cloaked in an almost sacred silence, seemed to swallow their footsteps. The trio walked through the shadows, accompanied by a fourth, smaller figure who clung tightly to Yun Lue's hand.
The little girl glanced back from time to time, as if afraid the village would catch up to her. But the village was dead.
The child didn't cry. Not yet. Her gaze stayed fixed on the ground, unable to face the world. Her small fingers clenched around Yun Lue's palm.
They didn't speak. Neither Hei Tian nor Old Chen. The whole world seemed suspended by a silent question: what now?
They reached a clearing. There, Old Chen suggested a pause. Yun Lue knelt beside the small boy.
— "What's your name?" she asked gently, as if a word too loud might shatter the thread of his reason.
The boy slowly lifted his eyes. His mouth opened hesitantly, then closed again.
— "You have a name, don't you?" she insisted, even softer. "I'm Yun Lue. That's Hei Tian, and that's Master Chen."
The boy blinked. Then, in a weak, almost whispered voice, he replied:
— "Mu… Liang."
Yun Lue gave him a faint smile, slightly trembling.
— "Mu Liang… That's a lovely name. Can you keep walking?"
He nodded. No more words. But his hand didn't let go of hers.
A little farther away, Hei Tian stood watching the scene, unmoving. Old Chen was rummaging through a leather satchel he had taken from the village.
— "We'll need to find a safe place before nightfall…" the old man said gravely. "I know of an old hunters' cave not far from here. Not very big, but good enough for tonight."
Hei Tian nodded without a word.
Yun Lue stood up again, still holding Mu Liang's hand. The boy hadn't smiled. Not yet. But something had changed in the way he walked now.
He was no longer running alone.
The ground crunched beneath their hurried steps. The trees rose like dark pillars, their branches intertwining to block out the sky. The moon, hidden behind the clouds, let through barely any light. The cold descended with the night—silent, icy.
Mu Liang shivered, still holding Yun Lue's hand like he would sink into a void if he let go.
Yun Lue no longer spoke. Her face was stiff, still marked by tears. But her eyes… her eyes were searching, scanning the darkness ahead as if still hoping to find a glimmer.
Hei Tian walked just behind them, occasionally glancing back to ensure no threat followed. His fists were clenched. The helplessness gnawed at him. He hated running. But he knew… he knew they wouldn't last a second against that man.
Old Chen stopped suddenly.
"This way," he whispered. He pushed aside a row of dry shrubs and slipped into a narrow, almost invisible path winding between roots.
After a while, the vegetation parted to reveal a rocky hollow, hidden behind tight bushes.
"The hunters' cave," he murmured. "We come here once every ten winters, but it'll do for the night."
They entered one by one.
Inside was narrow but dry. A scent of moss and earth lingered. At the back of the cave, there was an unlit torch. Old Chen lit it, and a faint light flickered, casting their shadows against the stone walls.
Mu Liang was crying silently, his face buried against Yun Lue's chest. She rocked him gently, whispering words even she no longer understood. Empty words, too weak before the abyss.
Hei Tian stood still. He stared at the flickering flames, but it seemed as if he were seeing through them. His gaze pierced something invisible.
An entire world, perhaps.
No one spoke. The silence wasn't just heavy. It was sacred.
It felt like a crushing weight bore down on his shoulders.
Old Chen slowly approached the children. He knelt.
"I'm sorry," he said gravely. "For your families. For your village. I wish I could've done more."
Mu Liang didn't answer. He just kept crying.
Yun Lue shook her head. "It's not your fault…" she whispered. Then she burst into tears. "It's not… not your fault…"
Old Chen gently drew them into his arms. She let herself go, unable to hold back the grief.
Hei Tian stepped closer. He placed a hand on Mu Liang's shoulder. The boy looked up at him.
"We're still alive," Hei Tian said. "That means we can keep moving. We can get stronger."
Then he turned to Old Chen.
"I want you to teach me. How to cultivate."
Chen slowly raised his eyes to him.
"Me too," added Yun Lue, wiping her cheeks. "I want to understand… why this happened. And… I want to be able to protect what's left."
Old Chen sighed, long and deep. Then nodded.
"It won't be easy. Or quick. But… I'll teach you what I know."
Silence fell again. Not an empty silence. A silence in which something had just been born.
A will.
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