"The procurement of a cartographic chart poses no difficulty, Master Wang; I shall have it drafted with immediate effect, so when does your esteemed personage desire to depart?" Xan Li Fang stood stoically in the center of the elder's residence, the ambient warmth of the magical luminaries doing little to thaw the glacial chill encasing his heart, for he recognized an imperative need for temporal spacing. The sheer, crushing magnitude of the preceding forty-eight hours—the demise of his matriarch, the metaphysical transgression across worlds, the precipitous descent from the firmament, and his sudden, terrifying apotheosis—threatened to fracture his psyche if he did not pause to respire. He required a moment of absolute stillness to inter the boy he once was, ensuring the man he needed to become could ascend from the ashes. "Mulo," Xan requested, his vocal timbre quiet yet resonating with firm authority. "If it is permissible, I wish to remain for three additional nocturnal cycles; after all that has transpired, I require a brief respite to stabilize my cultivation foundation." Mulo's eyes widened in recognition, and he bowed profoundly, sensing a fortuitous opportunity to serve a cultivator of such caliber. "Master Wang, you may inhabit our village for as long as your heart desires, for it is a singular honor for us humble villagers to serve you; my domicile is effectively yours."
"The nocturnal curtain has fallen," Xan remarked, glancing towards the darkened fenestration. "Could you grant me solitude for a duration? I wish to traverse the outdoors." "Certainly; may you have a tranquil evening, Master Wang." Xan Li Fang stepped out of the heated interior into the biting, merciless cold of the northern night, where the wind was sharp, cutting through the thin atmosphere like a razor, yet Xan's reconstructed physiology registered no discomfort, feeling instead as if the frost were merely embracing an old comrade. He navigated a narrow, serpentine path through the frozen underbrush toward the village pasture, a gentle rise in topography where livestock grazed during the diurnal hours. To a mundane ocular perception, the surroundings were pitch black, the lunar body obscured behind a thick blanket of tempestuous clouds, but Xan's vision had been irrevocably altered. Through the lens of his crimson and azure irises, the night was stripped of its clandestine secrets; he perceived the world in high-definition monochrome, lucid as midday, where every crystalline snowflake and individual blade of grass stood distinct. He walked to the apex of the hill and settled beneath the gnarled, twisting branches of an ancient Apple Tree, leaning his dorsal spine against the rough bark and tilting his visage upward to stare at the firmament where he calculated the moon should reside.
He gazed skyward, and suddenly, the stoic mask of the "Master" crumbled into dust; tears welled in his eyes, hot and stinging against the frigid air. "Merely yesterday," he whispered, his voice fracturing under the weight of sorrow, "I was existing contentedly with my mother in our dilapidated shack, worrying about the inflated price of pasta; today... I possess no comprehension of my location within the cosmos..." He remained there for an extended period, gazing at the heavens, lost in a labyrinth of profound contemplation while the silence of the snow-covered hills amplified the auditory hallucinations of his memories, for his only and most beloved relative had departed this coil. The echoes of her voice replayed in his mind, more vivid and visceral than reality: "Li Fang, I prepared your preferred sustenance today… consume it, for you are developing," and "Hey, boy! What instruction did I impart? Larceny is abhorrent! I care not how ravenous we are; if I catch you thieving again, expect no leniency, for we must retain our dignity!" followed by, "Today, I petitioned Mr. Li Suagun to assist you in securing employment… he asserts you are a diligent worker." One by one, every syllable she had ever uttered—the admonishments, the accolades, the quiet comfort—echoed in his psyche as he replayed her life, her struggles, and her ultimate sacrifice.
He spent the entire nocturnal cycle observing the invisible moon, to succumb to slumber and unwilling to close his eyes, until the first gray luminescence of dawn touched the horizon and Xan wiped his visage, allowing the grief to harden into an impenetrable resolve. "Mother, do not worry," he vowed to the indifferent wind. "I shall survive, and I will become a son of whom you can be unequivocally proud!" "Master Wang! Elder Mulo is awaiting your presence at his residence! He instructed me to summon you!" A boy of approximately ten winters, swathed in thick obsidian furs, shouted from the crest of the hill, his breath manifesting as white, puffy clouds in the freezing air. Xan opened his eyes, realizing he had not moved a millimeter in hours. "I am approaching." He rose and surveyed his surroundings, noting that the world around the hamlet had transformed into a vast expanse of pristine white; any observer would deduce the village had been buried, for a heavy blizzard had raged through the night, obliterating his tracks. Xan brushed the accumulated snow from his shoulders and descended toward the elder's home.
Mulo was waiting by the hearth, a steaming vessel of porridge prepared, and he looked up with a face etched in genuine concern. "Master Wang, you did not utilize the chamber prepared for you last night; I observed you on the hill. Are you well? You must be hypothermic; please, approach and warm yourself." Xan shook his head, stepping across the threshold. "It is unnecessary; I simply derive pleasure from the winter season, as the cold assists in clarifying the mind." He sat down with practiced casualness. "I was merely observing the moon last night." Mulo paused, the ladle freezing in his hand, and looked at Xan with genuine, unmasked confusion. "Master Wang... how could you observe the moon when the firmament was completely obscured by clouds throughout the night? The snowfall was dense enough to blind a hawk; are you jesting?" Xan froze internally, realizing he had forgotten that mundane humans lacked the capacity to pierce through atmospheric obstructions, his enhanced vision having momentarily deceived him. "...Apologies, it was a mere jest," Xan covered quickly, allowing a melancholic smile to touch his lips. "I was simply longing for someone, so I was watching the coordinates where the moon should have been."
Mulo's expression softened immediately. "Ah, forgive my intrusion; grief often plays deceptive tricks on the mind. Please, partake of breakfast, for I have two critical favors to request of you." "Indeed?" Xan inquired, acquiring a spoon. "Based on your formidable strength, Master Wang, we petition you to..." Mulo trailed off, appearing visibly apprehensive. "Proceed, articulate it; as long as it lies within my capabilities, there is no issue." Elder Mulo hesitated, seeming unsure of where to commence, stretching the silence until he finally mustered the courage to speak with candor. "Master Wang, for many years, our village has suffered here in the northern wastes; we struggle in both winter and summer... This is the coldest, most desolate region of the continent. To speak plainly, twelve years ago, the Lindao Kingdom was vanquished by the Sky Lord Empire." Mulo's voice grew heavy with the accumulated weight of history. "Following the defeat, our clan—the loyalists of Lindao—were exiled to this distant north and stripped of our ancestral territories; we are slowly perishing here, but if you assist us, we might possess the capacity to reclaim our homeland."
Xan masticated slowly, his mind racing with strategic calculations. He understood implicitly that not every narrative represents the absolute truth, for history is the propaganda of the victories and grievances are the literature of the vanquished; furthermore, antagonizing a Royal Household—the Sky Lord Empire—was not a prospect Xan found appealing. In a novel world, forging powerful alliances was far more beneficial than fighting another man's war, yet he could not simply reject Elder Mulo, for this man had sheltered him, nourished him, and preserved him from freezing in the snow following his catastrophic fall, meaning he owed them a debt of life. "You are aware that I cannot prosecute a war on your behalf to reclaim it," Xan stated carefully, testing the diplomatic waters. "I am but one individual, not a legion." "We do not require an army," Mulo interjected, leaning in with eyes burning with a desperate, incandescent hope. "Then listen closely; every year within the kingdom..."