"Maybe I should take a walk?"
Luo Changfeng murmured to himself as he slowly placed his hands behind his back, letting out a long breath. The faint spring breeze brushed against his weathered face, carrying with it the scent of earth and old pine from the courtyard.
Step by step, he made his way out of the ancestral grounds, his every motion measured and calm—an old man's gait, but no longer the shuffling step of a dying elder. Something within him had changed.
His courtyard, befitting the status of the Luo Family's surviving grand elder, was nestled at the very heart of the ancestral land, surrounded by stone walls and silent halls. As he walked through its gates, each step carried a new strength—a spark of vitality that hadn't existed days ago.
"Patriarch Changfeng."
"Patriarch Changfeng."
On his way, clan members paused in their duties to greet him respectfully, their bows deep and voices tinged with reverence. The sight of him upright and walking brought visible surprise to their eyes, though none dared voice it aloud.
Luo Changfeng smiled lightly in return, his expression serene.
His smile wasn't just for appearances.
These clan members, whose loyalty he would rely upon, were the key to sustaining and growing his strength. If he was to walk the cultivation path in this world—to advance in techniques, refine his comprehension, and survive the turmoil that loomed beyond the family's gates—then he would need their support… and their Qi-Blood.
He must make them willingly follow him. And so, he smiled.
"Eh…?"
At the same time, not far from the main gates of the Luo Family Ancestral Land, a green-robed man came to an abrupt stop. The man, Luo Ping—the current family head—rubbed his eyes in disbelief.
"Isn't that Elder Changfeng?"
He blinked again, furrowing his brow. Just yesterday, Elder Changfeng had seemed moments from death. Pale as paper, his body frail and his breath weak, barely clinging to life.
Yet now—
Now the man was walking under his own power, his back straight, skin faintly flushed with health, eyes calm and alert.
"…Could it be returning light?" Luo Ping muttered under his breath, his heart tightening with unease.
That fleeting burst of clarity before death…
If this was truly a final burst of vitality, it meant the end was near. And if Elder Changfeng passed… the consequences would be far-reaching.
His thoughts churned with urgency.
"I need to speak to Chuan'er about this immediately," Luo Ping whispered to himself. "And… I must make a decision about the two options he laid before me. The sooner, the better."
With that, he turned, his expression stormy, and quickly disappeared into the family estate.
…
Meanwhile, Luo Changfeng stepped beyond the Luo Family gates and entered the town proper.
The morning streets of Qingshi Town were lively and bright, sunbeams trickling through old tiled roofs, casting gentle light onto the cobblestones below. Vendors lined both sides of the road, their calls echoing through the air.
"Candied haws for sale! Sweet and sour, just made this morning!"
"Fresh steamed buns—hot and fragrant!"
"Colorful animal masks! Rabbits, tigers, dragons! Come take a look!"
Children laughed and darted between stalls, mothers haggled with shopkeepers, and elderly couples walked arm in arm. It was a picture of simple joy and mundane peace, bustling with the rhythm of everyday life.
Luo Changfeng walked slowly, his gaze sweeping over every detail with subtle wonder. Though such scenes were not unfamiliar to him in memory, this—this was different.
In his past life, these things had been pixels and passing images. Screens, speakers, distant projections of another's life. But now, they were real. The steam rising from a basket of buns. The texture of the wooden stalls. The warmth of the sun on his skin. He was in it. Part of it.
His heart stirred.
For a moment, it felt almost like a dream. A second chance—not just to live, but to live fully.
But the illusion did not last.
As he continued walking, turning down narrower streets and wandering further from the central avenue, something began to shift.
The calls of the vendors faded.
The laughter of children was nowhere to be heard.
In its place, a heavy silence settled. A silence broken only by hurried footsteps and muffled whispers.
The people here walked fast, heads down, shoulders hunched. There was no joy on their faces—only anxiety and fatigue.
The houses on either side of the road looked worn and fragile. Cracks in the walls. Broken tiles. Mold creeping across old wooden doors.
It was as though he had stepped into another world. One that coexisted with the joy he had just seen… yet remained hidden in its shadow.
And then—
"No! Don't take me! Dad, save me, please—!"
A child's voice pierced the stillness like a dagger.
Luo Changfeng's head turned sharply toward the sound.
Up ahead, near the corner of a run-down teahouse, a small girl, perhaps no older than six, was being dragged by a burly man with a scarred face and a grin like a wolf baring its teeth.
Her hands were tied, her face streaked with dirt and tears. Her tiny legs kicked helplessly as she screamed.
"Here's three taels of silver," the burly man grunted, handing over a small pouch of scattered silver fragments to a gaunt, pale man in ragged clothes. "The price for her life. Take it, and don't come looking later."
"Thank you… thank you," the gaunt man whispered, nodding fervently. His eyes, once bloodshot with despair, lit up with feverish hope.
"With this, I can break even… I can win it back. I'll win everything back."
He turned to the girl, eyes trembling, lips pressed into a thin line.
"Ying'er… wait for me. Once I win back what I lost… I'll come for you. I'll buy you good food, fine clothes, a big house. I swear it."
His words were empty, brittle with desperation.
And then he turned away, not daring to meet her gaze, and staggered toward a gambling den across the street.
"Let's go, little girl." The burly man grinned again, tightening his grip on the rope. "I'll take you somewhere nice. You'll eat well, drink spicy wine, and live like a little princess."
His men snickered behind him.
And the girl—her body trembling—could only shed silent tears.
She knew what kind of place awaited her.
And so did Luo Changfeng.
His hands clenched behind his back. He did not move, nor did he speak.
He watched as they vanished into the alleyway. And still, he stood there, unmoving.
"Is this… what chaos looks like?" he finally murmured, voice low.
He turned his gaze to the lifeless surroundings—the emaciated beggars lying curled beside doorways, arms outstretched, as if waiting to be carried into the next world. The boarded-up windows. The silence that pressed like a weight on the chest.
It was a stark contrast to the bustling life just a few streets away.
Two faces of the same world.
And the mask was slipping.
Luo Changfeng took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
"Forget it," he muttered. "There's no point in going further."
He turned around, the wind suddenly colder against his back. His good mood had evaporated entirely.
Right now, he needed to return.
To cultivate. To grow stronger—fast.
If the Da Feng Dynasty, with its mighty presence, still allowed this level of decay beneath its surface…
Then what would happen once its grip faltered?
When the day came that warlords rose across the land and the central authority collapsed entirely, the world would become a battlefield.
And in such a world—
Only strength could protect what mattered.
If he wanted to survive.
If he wanted to protect the Luo Family.
Then he needed power.
Power strong enough to crush threats before they reached his doorstep.
But fate wasn't done with him just yet.
He had barely walked a few more steps when shadows shifted at the edge of the road.
A dozen men, dressed in mismatched peasant clothes and wielding rusty weapons, stepped into view and surrounded him in a loose semicircle.
Their eyes gleamed with greed.
"Old man, you seem pretty well-off," one of them drawled.
The speaker wore black, a scarf wrapped around his head. Though lean, his eyes were sharp and cold, and unlike the others, he wielded a steel blade—new, polished, and likely stolen.
"In these times, you're walking around with rosy cheeks and a spring in your step? That's rare."
He stepped closer, his voice smooth and mocking.
"You must have some serious wealth at home."
He flashed a toothy grin. "So what do you say, old man? Want us to escort you there?"
"Or will you walk with us willingly?"
The circle closed in.
And Luo Changfeng, the lone elder of the Luo Family, found himself appraised like cattle at market.
A flicker of annoyance passed through his eyes.
And then, something colder.