In the very heart of the hidden land stood the Meeting Hall, a grand chamber rarely opened to the eyes of ordinary villagers. Its high pillars were carved with ancient patterns of dragons and phoenixes, and faint lantern-light flickered against the walls, casting long, solemn shadows.
At the center of the hall stood a great round table of polished blackwood. Around it were arranged five chairs, each carved from the same ancient timber. Four of them were placed in symmetry—two on each side—while the fifth seat sat slightly raised in the middle, like a throne.
That central chair carried an aura of authority, yet it remained untouched, veiled in quiet mystery. None among the families had ever seen it occupied. Some whispered it was reserved for a figure above even the Four Great Families—a guardian, perhaps, or a master whose presence was rarely revealed. Others believed it to be a symbol only, a reminder of a higher power that bound the families together. Whatever the truth, the empty leader's seat always loomed over the hall like an unanswered riddle.
On the four side chairs, however, sat the most respected deputies of each family.
The first among them was Tong Chen of the Chen Family. Though not the clan head, he was second only to his elder brother, the current patriarch. As the younger brother of the leader, he held the role of deputy leader—trusted, powerful, and often regarded as the true backbone of the Chen. His tall figure and calm demeanor carried the steadiness of a mountain, and his words were weighed with both respect and fear.
To his right sat a woman from the Yan Family: Yan Zhi Lan. She was around the same age as Tong Chen, perhaps late thirties, yet her beauty had not dimmed but sharpened like a blade. Her long crimson robe seemed to ripple like fire in the lamplight, and her black hair was bound high with a golden hairpin. She was the deputy leader of the Yan family, renowned not only for her elegance but also for her sharp judgment in matters of both diplomacy and battle. Where her elder brother, the patriarch, commanded with boldness, Zhi Lan tempered his decisions with clarity and foresight. Many quietly said she was the true mind of the Yan family.
On the other side, the Liang Family's deputy took his place. Liang Shan, a man in his forties, broad-shouldered and stern-faced, sat with arms crossed, his presence as unyielding as stone. His simple dark-green robes bore no excessive embroidery, reflecting the Liang clan's nature—practical and disciplined. He was the younger cousin of the Liang patriarch, respected for his martial discipline and his unflinching sense of duty. Among the families, Liang Shan was known as the shield: immovable, loyal, and ever-vigilant.
Finally, completing the circle was the representative of the Xiao Family. A woman this time, Madam Xiao Ling, deputy leader and wife of the Xiao patriarch. Unlike the others, her position came not by bloodline alone but through the bond of marriage—and through her own sharp brilliance. Xiao Ling was graceful, with slender features and calm, penetrating eyes. She wore pale blue silks embroidered with lotus flowers, her bearing dignified and serene. Though her husband was the official leader, it was whispered that his most careful decisions were often shaped by her advice. She was the voice of reason within the Xiao family, her words carrying the weight of authority even among rival clans.
Thus, seated around the great table were the four deputies of the Four Great Families—Tong Chen, Yan Zhi Lan, Liang Shan, and Xiao Ling. Four pillars of power, each commanding respect, yet all overshadowed by the mysterious empty chair in the very center, whose true master had yet not appear.
The air inside the Meeting Hall was thick and solemn, every word echoing with weight. The four elders sat in their seats of honor, each carrying the aura of authority, but tonight none could deny the unease that gnawed within.
Tong Chen's voice was the first to break the silence.
Tong Chen (Chen Family): "We all know why I called this gathering. It is not war, not famine, not even an outside enemy that troubles me—it is our own young ones. These reckless children… still barely ten years of age, yet they dare to sneak into the forests, challenge beasts, and act as though the world owes them glory. Their courage is undeniable, but so is their blindness."
Elder Yan Lian, the deputy leader of the Yan Family, rested her slender hands on the table, her gaze calm but sharp as a blade.
Yan Lian (Yan Family): "They are not only your Chen family's brats, Tong Chen. I have seen it in my clan, and in others too. It has spread like fire—this hunger for recognition. They do not wait for guidance, nor do they respect caution. The children of this village… all of them have started to believe danger is nothing but a stepping stone for their pride."
The tall, broad-shouldered Liang elder leaned forward, his deep voice carrying a mix of anger and helplessness.
Liang Shu (Liang Family): "Hah! And the fault is ours. We trained them with stories of heroes and filled their heads with tales of glory, yet gave them no path to prove themselves. Tell me, how can you cage a young tiger once it smells blood? They are not wrong to want to carve their names, but they are fools for doing it in the shadows."
At this, Lady Xiao Mei, wife of the Xiao Family leader, frowned deeply. Her usually gentle expression darkened with concern.
Xiao Mei (Xiao Family): "But Liang Shu, what happens when their arrogance takes their lives? They are still children. What good is pride to a grave? If even one of them falls, do you not see how the whole village will crumble in grief? The bond we share here is not just of clans and families—it is of a people tied together. We must guide them, not bury them."
The hall grew quiet. Each word settled like heavy stone on their hearts.
Tong Chen exhaled slowly, his voice lower now, almost weary.
Tong Chen: "I gave them my word. I told those children I had a plan… and for that promise, I bowed my head to them. To bow before youths… me, an elder of this hall. Do you know what that means? The entire village whispers about it. Some call it disgrace, others call it compassion. But I did it because I saw the fire in their eyes. If we do not shape that fire, it will burn us all."
The meeting hall stood in stillness, lit only by wavering torches that lined its ancient stone walls. Shadows of carved beasts danced across the floor, silent witnesses to the gathering. At the very center rested five grand chairs—four occupied by the deputies of the Four Great Families, and one empty seat in the middle, the chair of mystery that no one dared speak of.
For a long time, no one uttered a word. The weight of the matter before them was heavier than war or famine, for it was not an enemy they faced but their own children—the reckless young generation of the village. Boys and girls no older than ten, burning with pride and arrogance, sneaking into the forests to chase beasts and glory.
The silence thickened until even the crackle of flame seemed distant. Tong Chen's eyes were hard, his jaw clenched. Liang Shu tapped his fingers restlessly against the arm of his chair. Xiao Mei sat with folded hands, her gaze distant, caught between worry and calculation.
And then—after that long silence—it was Yan Lian who finally raised her voice.
Her beauty was striking, but it was her presence that silenced even the restless air. Her eyes gleamed like tempered jade, sharp and unyielding. When she spoke, her words did not simply echo in the hall—they carved themselves into the hearts of those listening.
Yan Lian (Yan Family):
"…We cannot simply impose our morals upon them, nor strip away the motives that drive their hearts. To smother such flames is not guidance—it is suffocation. And if we kill the spirit that gives them life, what remains will be nothing but hollow shells, obedient yet lifeless."
Her voice, steady at first, grew firmer, carrying the weight of reason and vision alike.
Yan Lian:
"This fire in them—it is wild, reckless, and yes, dangerous. But fire is never only destruction. Fire is also light, warmth, and life. It is the forge that tempers steel, the flame that hardens the blade. Left untended, it will consume all before it—our forest, our peace, our very future. But if we choose to temper it, to give it form and purpose… then this very fire will become the strength that carries us through the ages."
Her gaze swept the hall, daring any to look away.
Yan Lian:
"Understand this—each child's arrogance is but unshaped courage. Each reckless step into danger is their soul's cry for recognition. We can choose to crush this impulse, and raise a generation of fearful shadows… or we can guide it, sharpen it, and let them taste both the weight of responsibility and the glory of true strength."
A long pause hung after her words, heavy yet alive, as if the torches themselves leaned closer to listen.
Yan Lian (final words, voice almost prophetic):
"If we forge them with wisdom, they will not become a wildfire that devours us—they will become torches that light the path ahead. And if fate is kind, perhaps from these restless hearts will rise a power none of us can yet imagine… one that may protect not only this village, but generations yet unborn."
As Yan Lian's final words faded into the hall, silence wrapped around the four deputies like a heavy cloak. Her vision was clear, her truth undeniable. Yet the others hesitated, not because they disagreed, but because they knew what it implied.
If the young ones were to grow truly strong, they would need more than the comfort of the village walls. They would need to step into the world—face danger, hardship, and trials beyond beasts of the forest. But here lay the true weight of the matter: this village was never meant to be such a place.
It had only stood for a few short decades, a hidden settlement carved into the land by those who wished for peace. Its people chose obscurity over glory, safety over power. They wanted no part in the shifting territories of kingdoms beyond, nor the endless struggles for dominance. To step outside, to reveal themselves, risked drawing attention to their presence—an attention that could bring rules, rulers, and conflicts they had no desire to be entangled in.
And so the people lived quietly, comfortably, as mortals among mortals. Fields thrived, children laughed, and for generations the village had been a cradle of safety. Few questioned it. Fewer still ever wished to leave. The outside world was not forbidden—only unnecessary.
That was the unspoken truth that now pressed down on the hall: if they let the younger generation pursue strength beyond these borders, it would shatter the fragile peace their forebears had carefully built.
The silence lingered, long and heavy. Even Tong Chen, with his firm will, found his thoughts caught in that quiet weight. The fire of youth was rising, yet the roots of the village clung to stillness.
Finally, Tong Chen's voice broke the silence, low but steady, carrying both helplessness and resolve.
Tong Chen:"So… in the end, we cannot change what the village is. But neither can we sit and do nothing while the children throw themselves into danger."
He drew in a deep breath, his eyes closing for a brief moment. When he opened them again, there was a sharp gleam within—firm, decisive.
Tong Chen:"I have made up my mind. If they cannot yet walk beyond these walls, then I will bring the path to them. From tomorrow onward, I will personally train each and every one of the younger generation. I will forge their foundation with my own hands. And if burden falls, it will fall on me alone."
His words struck with the weight of iron. For a moment, the hall seemed to breathe again.
Yan Lian inclined her head, her sharp eyes softening just slightly in agreement. Liang Shu, usually hesitant, let out a slow exhale and nodded, his restless fingers stilling at last. Xiao Mei, her delicate hands folded neatly in her lap, gave a faint but resolute smile.
Together, the four deputies accepted the unspoken truth: the world beyond would one day call to the children. They could not stop it forever, nor should they. But until that day came, they would shape these restless flames into strength strong enough to withstand whatever future awaited.
From this night forward, the hidden village's peace would no longer be only stillness. Beneath its quiet surface, a foundation of strength would begin to rise.