The next day, autumn stretched over the mountains like fire. Between two peaks lay a village, hidden among thick vegetation, glowing as if the land itself had caught flame. From a distance, it looked alive, burning with life, yet calm in its own way.
Russsaa… russs…
A caravan moved steadily toward the village, dust rising behind the wheels. The travelers were tired, their bodies weighed down by weeks of travel.
"Hahaha… finally, we've reached Nian Village," one man said, relief in his voice. "It took an entire month to get here."
In the arms of an old man, a small girl's wide eyes fixed on the village between the mountains. Her gaze was awed, curious, and innocent.
"Grandpa… is this the village you told me about? It's so beautiful… like a red flower… and so biiiiig!" she exclaimed.
The old man smiled, a rare warmth breaking through years of darkness. "Hehe… yes. This is the village I spoke of. But remember… flowers, even the most beautiful, have thorns. Roses cut anyone who tries to take them. Be careful. Always stay by my side."
"Ok… ok, Grandpa. I will," she replied.
---
Morning broke over the dormitory. Silence filled the empty hall.
"Yeeaaah… hummmmmm…"
Fu Yang's eyes fluttered open. Around him, no one moved. Birds chirped outside, their sweet songs piercing the quiet.
Fu Yang tilted his head and let a faint smile cross his lips. "What a morning… really. If I stayed here, left everything behind… I could live a decent life. Who cares about revenge? Who cares about these worthless people chasing petty gains?"
But as he looked out the window, the innocence in his gaze vanished. Children's eyes? No. Old eyes. Eyes sharpened by suffering, betrayal, and every cruelty a human could endure. Knowledge and calculation weighed down his every thought.
Haaaah…
He swung his legs off the bed, rising. His steps were light, deliberate, each one carrying thought, observation, and patience. He walked toward the riverbed to wash his face. The reflection that met him was familiar and cruel. Bruises marked his right cheek. His long black hair was tangled, his clothes filthy and worn, smelling of sweat and months of neglect. A child's body, yes. But the mind of a man hardened beyond his years.
Haaah… wosh… wosh…
Water ran over his face. He scrubbed at his skin, rinsing the dirt and filth. His clothes soaked, left to dry under the rising sun. He didn't care that they still smelled faintly of river grime; the world demanded more than appearances. It demanded preparation, patience, and calculation.
And today, a target awaited.
---
The canteen. A simple structure, yet inside, all the malice of the past awaited. Shin Tian, the man Fu Yang hated most in his previous life, stood behind the counter. Every step toward him sharpened the air, tension crawling along his skin. Killing intent simmered beneath Fu Yang's calm exterior, silent and ready.
"Haha… Sir Shin! What's today's menu?" he asked, voice light, yet carrying subtle weight.
Shin Tian looked up, lips blackened and twisted into a grin. "Mmm… today we have boar meat soup. Personally made by my boys. I hope you enjoy your lunch."
Fu Yang's eyes lingered on him. Calm. Collected. No anger yet.
(Haah… first dish… you… Shin Tian… hehe…)
Shin Tian's grin widened as he licked his lips. His gaze roamed over Fu Yang with mock pity.
(Poor boy… cleaned himself… looks almost cute. Maybe I'll give him extra today… reward him… hehehe…)
Fu Yang smiled suddenly, a sharp curve of lips, like a knife hidden beneath silk. Shin Tian froze, caught off guard.
"Heheheheee…