That night, the rain fell without mercy. The patter of water struck rooftops and stone streets, weaving a bleak rhythm that enveloped the small town at the foot of the Shan Yue Mountains. Lanterns along the roads trembled under the wind, their yellow light dim, while droplets slid from the edges of roofs, forming shimmering puddles between wet stone gaps.
Inside a modest house with aging wooden walls, a sharp sound rang out—smack! A slap echoed amid the rain. A middle-aged man with a sturdy build and an unkempt beard glared fiercely at the young boy who had fallen to the ground.
"You… uneducated child!" he roared, his face flushed with rage. "How many times have I forbidden you from cultivating? Do you think that path is noble? No! Only fools rush toward an early grave!"
His name was Meng Du—the head of the family and a former disciple of a minor sect that had been destroyed in wars between cultivators. Before him, the twelve-year-old boy lowered his head, his body trembling. Rainwater dripping from the roof soaked the earthen floor between them.
"That's enough, Ah-Du!" cried a woman with a gentle yet resolute expression as she stepped forward, positioning herself between them. "Please, don't hurt your own child."
The woman was Xun Ce. Her long black hair clung slightly from the damp air, her eyes red—whether from tears or restrained anger was unclear. She was Meng Wang's mother.
But Meng Du did not listen. He looked at his wife coldly. "You're too soft, Xun Ce. This child needs discipline."
Meng Wang clenched his fists. The rain outside seemed to seep through his skin, making him shiver, yet a small ember burned stubbornly within his heart.
"I don't want to read books or study!" he shouted, his hoarse voice cutting through the humid air. "It disgusts and bores me! Being a cultivator is far freer than imprisoning myself in meaningless words!"
The room froze. Xun Ce stared at Meng Wang in alarm, while Meng Du slowly turned his head, his eyes gleaming like those of a wild beast.
"Say that again," he said softly—almost a whisper, yet heavy with pressure.
Meng Wang bit his lip, his heart pounding. But he knew that if he remained silent now, he would lose himself forever. He met his father's gaze and said, "I said I don't want to study."
Thud!
A violent kick slammed into Meng Wang's chest. His small body was sent flying, crashing into the wooden wall until boards cracked and fell.
Lightning tore across the sky, illuminating Meng Du's cold, hateful face. Xun Ce screamed and rushed to embrace her fallen son.
"Wang'er! Hold on!" She pressed her hands to his chest, channeling green energy from her palms.
Through his blurred vision, Meng Wang saw his mother's tear-streaked face—and his father standing in the doorway.
"Let him be," Meng Du said flatly. "Even if that bastard child dies, I don't care."
Thunder roared. Darkness crept over Meng Wang's sight. In his fading consciousness, a single question surfaced—why is the world so cold?
Xun Ce glared at her husband, fury blazing. "Meng Du! Even if he is a bastard, he's still a child! Where is your conscience?"
Meng Du did not reply. He brushed aside the bamboo curtain and disappeared into the rain.
The wooden door creaked, then vanished into the night.
Xun Ce looked down at her son's pale face and closed her eyes briefly. She raised both hands as a gentle green aura spread through the air like mist.
"Fortunately, I once learned healing techniques…" she whispered. "You'll be fine, Wang'er."
Lightning struck again, as though the heavens themselves raged at the world.
The next morning, sunlight reflected warmly off the damp rooftops. Stone streets glistened, and the air carried the fresh scent of dew.
Meng Wang slowly opened his eyes. His head throbbed, but he was alive. Beside the bed, Xun Ce slept on the floor, her body exhausted yet peaceful.
She gradually awoke as well. Gentle morning light filtered through the window, illuminating her son's pale face. Meng Wang looked at her and gave a faint smile.
"Wang'er…" she whispered, quickly sitting up and pulling him into a tight embrace. Tears slipped onto his shoulder. "Are you alright?"
Meng Wang shook his head lightly. "I'm fine, Mother."
Thank goodness… Xun Ce thought. She smiled, though sorrow still lingered in her eyes. "Then go to the kitchen. I'll make something for us."
Meng Wang obeyed. His weak legs carried him to the small kitchen. The aroma of ingredients filled the air—fresh vegetables, dried herbs, and a bit of preserved meat on the wooden table. Sunlight streamed through the window, highlighting droplets still falling from the roof. The world seemed calm, yet the memory of the night before refused to fade from his heart.
He sat down, lost in thought. Should I obey Father?
He remembered the thick books lining the shelves. He had tried reading one once, but the words felt like traps—empty and cold. He despised them. In anger, he had once thrown a book before his father, and from that moment on, the quarrels never ceased.
Light footsteps interrupted his thoughts. Xun Ce arrived carrying bowls of warm rice and simple vegetables. "Eat," she said softly. They sat together in silence.
Suddenly, the sound of dripping water echoed from the main room. Heavy footsteps followed. Meng Wang stiffened, his heart racing.
Meng Du emerged from behind the bamboo curtain, his clothes still damp with morning dew. Without a word, he took his food and left.
Silence returned. Meng Wang watched his father's back disappear through the doorway. His chest felt tight, but once the footsteps faded, he finally breathed easier.
Meanwhile, Meng Du entered his private room—a space filled with books from floor to ceiling. The scent of old paper mixed with dry incense. He ate while reading a volume titled Laws of Heaven and the Universe.
"Books are the root of civilization," he muttered coldly. "That child is too foolish to understand."
His gaze lingered on the pages. Behind his hardened eyes lay old scars—wounds inflicted by the world of cultivators that had destroyed his sect. To him, reading meant survival. To his son, it was merely an incomprehensible prison.
Back in the kitchen, Meng Wang swallowed his last bite and drank from a jug. He stood up. "Mother, I want to go out and play," he said cautiously.
Xun Ce looked at him briefly, then replied gently, "Alright, but don't go far. Be home before evening."
Just as he was about to leave, a heavy voice stopped him. "Where do you think you're going?" Meng Du asked, stepping out from the study, his gaze sharp as a blade.
"To play outside, Father…" Meng Wang answered softly.
"There's no time for playing. A child like you should be studying at home," Meng Du replied coldly.
Xun Ce immediately stepped forward. "Ah-Du, let him be. Children also need freedom. He only wants to see the world."
Meng Du snorted and turned away without another word. The bamboo curtain swayed as he headed toward the kitchen.
Xun Ce stroked her son's head. "Be careful out there," she said gently. "And don't make Mother worry."
Meng Wang smiled and ran out of the house. Fresh air greeted him. Stone roads still held shallow puddles, reflecting the newly cleared blue sky. He kicked a small pebble, letting his thoughts drift.
If only I had been born into a different family… would my life be different?
He passed through a narrow alley and arrived at the bustling market of Stone Orange City. Vendors shouted, the aroma of hot food mixed with incense and alcohol. Among the crowd were cultivators in long robes, Qi pouches hanging at their waists—symbols of high status in this small town.
Meng Wang was uninterested. He continued toward the outer gate—a red stone structure adorned with a yin-yang symbol, a relic of a long-fallen sect.
Beyond the gate, a green forest welcomed him with moist air and the scent of earth. He followed a small path until he reached his favorite place by a clear river. A tall mountain rose in the distance, while water flowed calmly beneath the sunlight.
Suddenly, a gentle voice called out, "Hey, Ah-Wang!"
Meng Wang turned around. A girl with white hair and snow-pale skin stood beneath the sun. Her smile was soft, her eyes clear like the river itself.
She sat beside him. "I heard your father scolded you again," she said quietly.
Meng Wang lowered his head. "Yeah… but I'm used to it."
The girl smiled and gazed at the sky. "Tomorrow, I'll be leaving this city. My father wants me to study in a larger city."
Meng Wang froze. "Really?"
She nodded. "Maybe one day, when we're grown… we'll meet again."
They fell silent, listening to the river that never ceased flowing. Beneath the gentle sunlight, they exchanged faint smiles