Li Yuan walked in silence for three days, his mind still echoing with the old farmer's story. Every step took him deeper into the Qinlu Empire—the world he had indirectly helped to create.
The scenery slowly changed. The roads were better maintained. The houses were sturdier. Most notably, there were no watchtowers or defensive forts like he remembered from the past. It was as if this world no longer lived in fear of war.
In the afternoon, he arrived at a small town called Heping—which means "peace." A name that never existed in the old days of war.
Li Yuan entered a simple tea shop, his consciousness body feeling the warmth from the porcelain cup. The owner, a middle-aged woman with a gentle smile, welcomed him kindly.
"Welcome, Sir. Where are you traveling from?"
"From the north," Li Yuan answered briefly, observing the shop's interior. There were paintings on the walls depicting peaceful scenes—wheat fields, children playing, old people sitting under trees.
"Ah, it must have been a long journey. Please, sit and get comfortable."
Li Yuan chose a table in the corner, from where he could observe the other customers. An old man was reading a paper scroll, a merchant was counting coins, and at the next table, two young men were discussing enthusiastically.
"...our teacher said, at the Academy of the Mirror, true understanding cannot be forced..."
Li Yuan sharpened his hearing.
"Academy of the Mirror?" one of the young men asked. "Isn't that a strange place? They don't teach martial arts at all."
"That's what makes it interesting," the first young man replied. "They say true strength comes from understanding yourself. Like in the Legend of the Mirror Field."
The Legend of the Mirror Field.
Li Yuan sipped his tea slowly, trying to appear nonchalant.
"That old story again? About the mysterious man who ended the Great War?"
"It's not just a story. Our teacher says there are still living witnesses from the descendants of those who were on the battlefield at that time. They pass the story down by word of mouth."
The second young man looked skeptical. "Even if such a person existed, he must have died centuries ago."
"Maybe. But his teachings are still alive." The first young man took out a small, thin book. "Look at this. 'The Three Unwritten Characters'—Silence, Longing, and Understanding. It is said to have been passed down from Ziran Village."
Li Yuan almost choked on his tea.
Ziran.
His village. The Library of the Soul's Root. The children he taught to write with breath, not just with ink.
"Ziran?" the second young man repeated. "That village is real?"
"Of course. Now it's become a kind of pilgrimage site. Many people go there to... how do you say it... seek tranquility? They say there's still an old library there with blank books."
Blank books.
Li Yuan remembered the white pages he had left behind, waiting for others to fill them with their own lives.
"They also say there's a strange custom there," the first young man continued. "The residents often sit in silence, as if listening to something that no one else can hear."
The Understanding of Silence. The Understanding of Breath.
They still remember.
Li Yuan felt a subtle vibration in his Zhenjing, like an echo returning from the past.
"And the Academy of the Mirror?" the second young man asked.
"It was founded about two hundred years ago by someone who claimed to be a descendant of a Mirror Field witness. They teach... not martial arts, but the art of seeing oneself."
The art of seeing oneself.
Li Yuan smiled faintly. Unconsciously, his understanding of reflection and introspection had grown into an entire institution of learning.
"Where is that academy?" Li Yuan asked softly, just loud enough for the two young men to hear.
They turned their heads. "Oh, Uncle is interested? The Academy of the Mirror is in Mingxin City, about a five-day journey south. But they don't accept just anyone."
"What are the requirements?"
"They say..." the first young man looked shy, "a potential student must be able to sit in silence for an entire day without restlessness. And they have to answer one question."
"What question?"
"Who are you to yourself?"
Li Yuan felt his heart stop for a moment.
That was the question he had asked himself for ten years in the Zhenjing, which gave birth to the Understanding of the Soul.
"Do you want to try, Uncle?" the second young man asked teasingly.
Li Yuan shook his head slowly, smiling. "Maybe someday."
He placed a few coins on the table and left. Outside the shop, the evening breeze greeted him gently, carrying the scent of blooming flowers.
The traces of understanding he had planted years ago had grown into traditions, institutions, and even a life philosophy. Not exactly as he had taught—because the Daojing cannot be taught—but the essence was still there.
Silence as a teacher.
Reflection as a power.
A question as the path to understanding.
Li Yuan decided not to go to Mingxin City. Not because he didn't want to know about the Academy of the Mirror, but because he knew that what they were looking for they would never find in him.
What they were looking for was their own understanding.
All he could do was smile, knowing that the seeds he had planted in silence had borne fruit in ways he never imagined.
Like water that flows to the place most in need, his understanding had found its own way into the heart of the world.
And that was enough.
Li Yuan continued his journey, not searching for traces of the past, but letting the present teach him what it means to live in the world he had helped shape.
Every step was a new lesson.
Every breath was an opportunity to understand.