After weeks of walking, Li Yuan felt a familiar vibration from a distance. A small village appeared behind a gentle hill, with thin smoke rising from the chimneys of simple houses. His Understanding of Body felt the warmth of human life—something he had longed for.
He slowly stepped into the village. An old farmer, repairing a bamboo fence, turned his head, his eyes curious at the sight of the stranger.
"Good afternoon, Grandpa," Li Yuan bowed politely. "May I ask, what village is this?"
The farmer put down his tools and smiled kindly. "Shizhu Village, Young Master. Welcome."
"Shizhu..." Li Yuan repeated the name to himself. It wasn't familiar. "And what... what region is this? The State of Qin or the State of Lu?"
The old farmer laughed lightly, as if he had heard a strange question. "Qin? Lu? Sir, those are old names. Now, this is all part of the Qinlu Empire."
Li Yuan felt something tremble within his Zhenjing.
Qinlu.
The name sounded familiar, like an echo from the past. Wasn't that the name of a city in the State of Qin? The city where he once worked at a noodle shop, where he met Chen Weiqi and the scholars...
"Qinlu?" Li Yuan asked softly. "How... how did those two states become one empire?"
The old farmer looked at him with surprise. "You really don't know, sir?"
There was a moment of silence.
"Sit, sit," the farmer patted a wooden bench next to his house. "This story is old, but it's still alive on our tongues."
Li Yuan sat down, his consciousness body heavy with anticipation.
"Two or three centuries ago," the farmer began, his eyes looking at the sky as if remembering. "There was a great war between Qin and Lu. My great-grandfather said the war had been going on for years. Blood flowed like a river."
Li Yuan listened in silence.
"But then... something strange happened." The farmer took a deep breath. "On the battlefield, they said, a power exploded. Not an explosion of fire or lightning, but... something else."
The vibration in Li Yuan's Zhenjing grew stronger.
"Thousands of soldiers from both sides suddenly stopped fighting. They... saw something. Felt something. The word my great-grandfather often used was... 'mirror'."
The Understanding of the Mirror. The Understanding of the Soul. The Understanding of Loss.
Li Yuan felt his hands tremble slightly.
"They saw themselves. Saw what they had done. Saw... who they really were." The farmer shook his head in awe. "Some cried. Some knelt. Some hugged each other, even though they were enemies just a second before."
The wind blew gently, carrying the scent of damp earth.
"The war stopped that day. No one wanted to continue. The emperors of both states finally met, and they... they decided to unite the two states. Qin and Lu became Qinlu."
Li Yuan stared at his own hands. Hands formed from the Understanding of Body and the Understanding of Existence.
"Three hundred and eighty years..." he murmured softly.
"Yes. Since then, the Qinlu Empire has stood. They say it was the day the world learned that there is something stronger than anger and hatred."
The farmer stood up, dusting off his hands. "An old story, but we always remember it. My great-grandfather said that on that day, there was a person who taught the world how to look in a mirror."
Li Yuan didn't move.
A person.
"Did... does anyone know who that person was?"
The old farmer shook his head. "No one ever saw him clearly. They said he was like water flowing between the battles. Some say he died to protect a child. Some say he disappeared like morning dew."
Li Yuan closed his eyes.
That child. The child he protected with his body when General Zhao attacked. When all his understandings exploded uncontrollably.
"But one thing is for sure," the farmer continued with a smile, "since that day, the world has become more... peaceful. The Qinlu Empire is indeed large, but they rarely go to war. They prefer to build rather than destroy."
Li Yuan opened his eyes. "Thank you, Grandpa, for the story."
"You're welcome, Young Master. Do you want to stay the night? My wife makes delicious soup."
"No, thank you. I... I need to continue my journey."
Li Yuan stood and bowed deeply. His steps slowly left the village, his mind and heart in turmoil.
Three hundred and eighty years.
A war that stopped. Two states that united. A world that changed.
All because of a moment when a child was almost harmed, and a man named Li Yuan chose to protect them with his entire being.
He stopped at the top of a small hill, watching the village slowly disappear in the distance.
The Understanding of Loss trembled softly in his Zhenjing, a reminder that every action, no matter how small, is a stone thrown into the pond of time.
Its waves can reach shores we never imagined.
"Was it because of my understanding at that time?" he whispered to the wind.
The wind did not answer.
But in the silence that followed, Li Yuan felt something new. Not regret. Not pride.
Instead... responsibility.
And for the first time in three hundred and eighty years, Li Yuan understood why the Oldest Breath could not be found by searching.
Because the Oldest Breath is what happens when a person is no longer afraid of the consequences of their kindness.
When a person chooses to breathe, even if the world stops breathing with them.
He continued his steps.
There was more for him to understand about the world he had helped to change.