Age 20 · After the Sect
The road was empty.
Gu Chen walked it alone, as he had walked every road, as he would walk every road to come. The mountains of Cloud Peaks had vanished behind him three days ago. Now there was only grassland, stretching to the horizon, and the wrong sky above.
He hadn't eaten in two days.
Didn't matter. Hunger was just another sensation, and he'd stopped feeling most of them.
You need to eat, the Orphan's voice was faint.
Why?
Because you'll die.
Maybe that's better.
The Orphan had no answer to that.
Day Five
A farm appeared.
Small. Poor. A single family working fields that barely produced enough to survive. They saw him coming—a figure on the horizon, moving slowly, dressed in strange clothes—and they tensed.
The father stepped forward, hoe in hand.
"State your business."
Gu Chen stopped. Looked at him.
"I have no business. I'm just walking."
The father studied him. Saw the hollow eyes, the empty hands, the exhaustion in every line of his body.
"You look half-dead."
"I am."
A long pause. Then the father lowered the hoe.
"Come. Eat."
The family was named Zhao.
Father, mother, three children—two boys and a girl, ages ranging from six to twelve. They lived in a house made of mud and straw, ate food they grew themselves, and had never seen a cultivator in their lives.
They gave Gu Chen porridge.
He ate it slowly. The first food in days.
See? the Orphan whispered. Kindness exists.
For now, the Beggar replied. Wait until they realize he's trouble.
Gu Chen finished the porridge and stood.
"Thank you."
"Sit. Rest. You're in no state to travel," Old Zhao said, waving a hand.
Gu Chen looked at him.
"Why do you care?"
"My son died, years ago. Would have been about your age." He shrugged. "Maybe I'm pretending you're him. Maybe I'm just not a monster." He met Gu Chen's eyes. "Does it matter?"
Gu Chen sat back down.
One Week
He stayed.
Not because he wanted to. Because leaving required a reason, and he had none. The Zhaos gave him work—simple tasks, farming and fixing—and food in return. They asked no questions. Expected nothing.
The children were wary at first. Then curious. Then bold.
"You're strange," the youngest boy said one day.
Gu Chen looked at him.
"You don't talk. You just... stare." The boy tilted his head. "Are you sad?"
Yes, the Orphan whispered.
"No," Gu Chen said.
The boy considered this. "Okay." He ran off to play.
Gu Chen watched him go.
You lied, the Monk observed.
I know.
Two Weeks
Elder Wu had not forgotten him.
Gu Chen knew this without knowing how. A feeling at the back of his neck. A shadow that moved when nothing else did. The sense of being watched, always watched, by something patient and hungry.
He's waiting, the Soldier said. For you to be alone.
I'm always alone.
Not here. Here, there are witnesses. Here, there are people who would notice if you disappeared.
Gu Chen looked at the Zhao family. The father working the fields. The mother cooking over a fire. The children laughing at nothing.
They would notice.
They would care.
That made them targets.
That Night
He dreamed of the king again.
A throne room, empty. A crown on the floor. A man standing alone, looking at his reflection in a puddle of blood.
"They all left," he said. "One by one. Even the ones who swore loyalty."
He looked up.
His eyes were Gu Chen's eyes.
"You think you're protecting them by staying? You're not. You're putting a target on their backs. The only way to protect people is to leave before they matter."
Gu Chen woke in darkness.
Leave. Now. Before he comes.
Dawn
He made his choice.
Old Zhao found him at the edge of the field, bag packed, facing the horizon.
"You're leaving."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Gu Chen turned to look at him. At this man who had asked nothing, expected nothing, given everything.
"Because if I stay, you'll die."
Old Zhao's face didn't change. He studied Gu Chen for a long moment.
"Will you come back?"
Gu Chen thought about it. Thought about all the places he'd left, all the people who'd asked him to stay, all the promises he'd never made.
"No."
Old Zhao nodded slowly.
"Then go." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pouch. "Food for the road. Not much, but enough."
Gu Chen took it.
"Why?"
Old Zhao smiled. It was a tired smile. A father's smile.
"Because someone should."
Gu Chen walked.
Behind him, the farm grew smaller. The figures of the Zhao family grew smaller. The smoke from their fire faded into the sky.
He didn't look back.
They were kind, the Orphan wept.
That's why he left, the King said. To protect them.
Protect them? Or protect himself from watching them die? the Beggar laughed.
Gu Chen kept walking.
Three Days Later
The shadow caught up.
Gu Chen felt it before he saw it—a shift in the air, a pressure change, the same sensation he'd felt when Old Mu's hands touched his core.
He turned.
Elder Wu stood twenty paces away, smiling.
"Alone at last."
Gu Chen said nothing.
"I've been watching you, boy. Waiting for the right moment. Waiting for you to be far enough from anyone who might ask questions." Elder Wu stepped closer. "That family was a complication. But you handled it well. Left before I had to... clean up."
Gu Chen's hands curled into fists.
"What do you want?"
"Your core." Elder Wu's smile widened. "That beautiful, broken thing inside you. I've never seen anything like it. A mortal with a golden core? Impossible. Unless..." He tilted his head. "Unless you're not mortal. Unless you're something else."
Gu Chen's core pulsed—warning, fear, rage.
"I'm going to take it, boy. All that power, all that potential, all that beautiful crack." Elder Wu raised a hand. Energy gathered around it. "Don't struggle. It'll hurt less."
He struck.
The battle was not a battle.
Gu Chen was stronger than a mortal. Faster. More durable. But Elder Wu was a Nascent Soul cultivator—the same realm Gu Chen had barely reached. And he'd had decades to master it.
Gu Chen lasted thirty seconds.
A blast of energy sent him flying. He hit the ground, rolled, tried to rise—and found Elder Wu standing over him, foot on his chest, pressing down.
"The core," Elder Wu murmured. "Let's see it."
His hand reached down—
And stopped.
Elder Wu's eyes went wide. Not at something behind him. At something inside Gu Chen.
The cracked core blazed.
Not with power—with something else. Something ancient. Something that recognized a threat and responded.
Energy erupted from Gu Chen's chest—not controlled, not directed, just release. A shockwave of pure force that threw Elder Wu backward.
Gu Chen scrambled to his feet.
Elder Wu landed, rolled, rose. His robes were scorched. His smile was gone.
"What... what ARE you?"
Gu Chen didn't answer. He didn't know.
The core pulsed again. Once. Twice. A warning.
Elder Wu hesitated.
For the first time, the hunter looked like prey.
"You're not worth it," he muttered. "Not yet. But I'll find you again. When you're weaker. When that thing inside you sleeps."
He vanished.
Not dead. Gone.
Gu Chen stood alone in the grass, chest heaving, core still blazing.
He'll be back, the Soldier said.
I know.
Then what?
Gu Chen looked at the horizon.
Then I'll be stronger.
He walked.
Behind him, in the shadow of a distant tree, a woman in white watched.
Su Wan.
Her hand pressed against the bark. It cracked.
She had not interfered. She had not touched him. She had only watched, as always.
But her eyes were different now.
He fought back. Without me. Without anyone.
He's becoming what he needs to become.
She whispered to the wind:
"Five down."
"Four to go."
She did not move for a long time.