Night came gently to Anning Village.The moon hung low, pale and round, brushing the rooftops with silver light. The air smelled of fresh soil and woodsmoke; cicadas whispered in the trees while the river murmured softly nearby.
Achu finished washing the last bowl and set it aside to dry. Chen and Ran were already asleep in their shared room, and Fei had long drifted off in her cradle, her small chest rising and falling with every soft breath.
It should have been a peaceful night — and yet, lately, Achu had begun to notice things.
A shift in the wind.A rustle where none should be.The faint weight of a gaze watching from beyond the darkened fields.
She pulled on her outer robe and stepped outside.The night greeted her with quiet coolness, brushing gently against her skin. The village slept soundly — only the lanterns she'd placed along the paths flickered dimly, like small, faithful stars.
Achu had made it a habit to patrol after midnight. It wasn't because she feared danger; it was because this village was her heart, her home, and she wanted to keep it safe.
She walked silently along the dirt road, her steps light and soundless thanks to her cultivation. The fields glistened faintly under the moonlight, the rice stalks swaying like silver threads.
"Hmm…" She crouched by the boundary fence, her fingers brushing a faint indentation in the soil. A footprint — half-faded, but fresh enough to notice.
"Too big for a child. And not from the village," she murmured.
She closed her eyes, sensing the air. A ripple of energy brushed against her consciousness — faint, but deliberate, as if someone had tried to mask their presence.
Achu's expression softened, but her eyes turned sharp.
"So… the rumors have spread this far already?"
For months now, merchants passing through had whispered about a hidden village untouched by corruption, where a mysterious woman governed with kindness and strength.
It seemed those whispers had finally reached the wrong ears.
She continued her patrol, circling toward the mountain path. Her gaze lingered on the shadows between the trees.
The forest was quiet — too quiet. Even the night creatures seemed to hold their breath.
Then, somewhere deeper inside the woods, a twig snapped.
Achu didn't move. She only tilted her head slightly, listening.
"Just one?" she whispered. "No… three. Moving together. Careful, but not cautious enough."
Her hand brushed the small charm hanging from her waist. A faint pulse of spiritual light rippled through the grass, disappearing instantly — an invisible net expanding through the area.
Within seconds, three faint shapes froze in the dark, their energy signatures trapped by her barrier.
"Caught you."
She stepped closer, and the intruders revealed themselves — not soldiers or assassins, but travelers. Young, weary, and half-starved, their robes torn and faces pale.
When Achu removed the barrier, they fell to their knees, trembling.
"Please— we didn't mean harm! We were just… looking for shelter," the eldest said, bowing until his forehead touched the dirt.
Achu studied them silently for a moment before sighing. "You chose a dangerous way to seek help."
The boy flinched. "We thought this place was abandoned… until we saw lights."
She nodded, her expression softening. "Then you're lucky. Come with me. You'll stay in the barn tonight — we'll talk in the morning."
By the time she returned to her home, the first hints of dawn were peeking above the mountains. She quietly placed a charm over the doors and windows, sealing the house in a thin veil of protection before slipping inside.
Fei stirred faintly in her sleep, letting out a soft sigh. Achu brushed a stray lock of hair from the baby's forehead and smiled.
The warmth of the child's breath against her fingers grounded her, pulling her back from the cold awareness that something — or someone — was starting to take notice of them.
Outside, the horizon glowed pale gold.Inside, the house was calm and still.
Achu sat by the window, her gaze drifting toward the distant forest.
"Eyes are watching," she whispered to herself, wrapping her shawl tighter. "But as long as I'm here… no harm will reach this village."
Her words lingered in the quiet, as gentle and steadfast as the light of dawn.