Volume One: When Young Lives Cross in Humble Times Chapter Three: In a World of Indifference, Warmth Still Exists

After everyone had left, Granny Li took him inside, fetched him water and something to eat. As Li Yu looked at the food before him, he could hardly believe he had truly found a place to settle down.

Granny Li held his hand gently and asked, “Little one, where are your parents?”

He didn’t answer immediately, only bowed his head in silence. Seeing this, Granny Li could guess the truth. She was about to change the subject when Li Yu spoke softly, “They’re gone.”

Though Granny Li had suspected as much, hearing him say it aloud made her heart ache. Still, there were things she had to ask—not out of doubt, but because she hoped she might help him find any relatives.

She asked again, “Do you have any other family?”

This time, Li Yu shook his head at once. “No.”

Granny Li felt tears prick her eyes. She couldn’t imagine how such a young child had survived amidst the fleeing masses, or how much he must have suffered in those terrible days.

She drew him into her arms, gently wiping the dirt from his wounded face, her voice full of kindness. “Then from now on, why don’t you live with me? Would you like that?”

He finally looked up at her, still a little incredulous. “Why would you take me in?”

Granny Li smiled warmly. “Have you forgotten? Two evenings ago, didn’t you save an old woman on the west side of the village?”

The child was clever—he’d managed to survive from the age of three in such troubled times. Of course, he hadn’t forgotten, but he didn’t see how it was connected.

“I remember, and I know that old woman was you. But what does that matter?”

She hadn’t expected him to be so clear in his words. She continued, “When I was returning to the village, I fainted under a tree. Before I lost consciousness, I thought I was going to die for sure. No one in the village wanted to save me—they would have preferred I died sooner. But then I felt someone give me a drink. Through the haze, I saw it was a child, with gray eyes. I wondered who could have helped me, and now I know. It was you. You saved me—I must repay your kindness!”

The boy seemed to understand, but not completely. At the time, he’d simply seen someone collapsed by the roadside and couldn’t ignore it. If he did, how would he be any different from those who had bullied him before? This was the first time anyone had spoken to him like this.

Granny Li’s eyes reddened as she went on. “But it’s not just because you saved me. When I watched you bow in greeting, I was reminded of my own child the first time he came home from school and bowed to me.”

Seeing Granny Li cry, the boy wanted to reach out and wipe her tears but hesitated, thinking his hands were dirty. He rubbed them clean on his clothes and gently wiped her tears away. “Don’t cry. You’ll be better and better from now on.”

Granny Li looked at the little one comforting her and felt her heart soften. Her smile grew even more tender.

“It’s we who will be better and better—together.”

And so, the boy settled in the village. Granny Li sent him to school, sewed his clothes, cooked his meals, and gave him a place to call home. In return, he took care of her, did what little he could, and tried to make her laugh. Life was hard, but it was clear that both were happy.

The Daoist continued to observe the scroll of time, speeding the images along: from age three to five, the days flashed before his eyes. Life remained austere, but for the child, it was a shelter from the storm; and for the old woman, her days were no longer so lonely and cold—her home was warmed by shared care and companionship.

But happiness is fleeting. Two years later, drought and the mischief of mountain spirits shattered their peace.

The Daoist paused the vision at the moment he wished to see—six months before his own present day. By then, people were already leaving the village. One day, the old woman, frail, shut the door, then went to the kitchen hearth and began to dig around inside. The boy stood by, anxious and fearful of what might come.

At last, she pulled out a cloth bundle with a few taels of broken silver. She drew him aside, breathless yet gentle. “Little Yu, this is what I’ve managed to save over the years. It’s not much, but it’s something. Remember to hide it well—don’t let anyone know, or you might not even be able to keep it.”

She pressed the money into his hands, but he shrank back, refusing to take it.

Granny understood his thoughts. Moved and saddened, she spoke on. “Little Yu, you should go with the others. I’m old and can’t walk any further. You’re different—you’re still so young. You shouldn’t die here. Listen to me, if you leave, you might survive.”

But still, he shrank away, shaking his head fiercely.

She didn’t force him. Instead, she pulled him into her arms and held him gently. “I know you don’t want to leave me, and I don’t want to leave you, but I’m old. If I go with you, I’ll only hold you back.”

At last, the boy spoke, his voice firm. “I’m strong, Granny. I used to wander too. I know what’s safe to eat and whom to avoid. Don’t be afraid—I’ll take care of you, Granny. Don’t be afraid.”

Her heart ached all the more, but she blinked back her tears. “Of course I know you can take care of me. But you’re still so small, and I’m old. If you take me, you’ll be dragged down.” Then she smiled and asked, “Do you know what death is?”

The boy’s eyes grew sorrowful. “I know. I’ve seen many people fall by the roadside, watched wild dogs and crows feed on them. The dead—they don’t feel pain.”

It was the first time she’d heard him speak of such things. She’d always avoided mentioning his past, fearing it would cause him pain. Only now did she realize he’d been through far more than she’d ever imagined.

She was lost in thought when the boy touched her face. She looked into his gray eyes and asked, “Aren’t you afraid, Little Yu?”

He answered softly, “I used to be.” Then, as if recalling something, his face brightened and his voice grew stronger. “But now, I’m not afraid anymore. Now I have you, Granny. I’m not alone—I’m not afraid.”

After that, she stopped urging him to leave. The two of them remained together in their simple home, enduring each day as it came.

Only at the brink of life and death is true character revealed—so it is among family, so it is among kin. The dutiful would break their backs to take the elderly with them; the heartless took all they could and left behind their aging parents.

In the end, only the old and the boy remained, the village left deserted.

The old woman became a living corpse, lying in bed, resigned to die. The child became a lonely ghost, slipping through overgrown alleys, always bringing home scraps of food for them to share. Even when her mind was still clear, she tried once more to make him go, but he stubbornly refused to leave her bedside.

“Why won’t you go?”

“I don’t want to leave you, Granny.”

...

After watching, the Daoist fell into long silence. Was this the world he’d hoped to see after withdrawing from worldly affairs? Did the one he’d followed truly understand what had come to pass? If his withdrawal had led to such suffering, what meaning could there be in his retreat?

What he’d seen was not unique—such scenes unfolded elsewhere as well. Yet, bound by his current position, he could do little to change the world. All he could do was release a long, mournful sigh.

Perhaps, he thought, it was time for change.

The people of Changlin City fared no better. The wealthy sent their children and some of their possessions away, hoping that, at worst, their family lines would survive elsewhere.

Did the City Lord wish to leave? Indeed, he did. But he could not.

On the one hand, his position obliged him to remain, to guard the city—even if all the people left, he could not abandon his post. The city’s great formation protected it, encircling the surrounding mountains and confining the Red Spring Mountain, holding back the disasters within. On the other hand, he was prevented from leaving by forces beyond himself.

It was a mutual siege: disaster trapped him, and he trapped the disaster, stopping it from spreading further.

But how long could this last? Wu Shouzhong had pondered this question, but was powerless. Some things cannot be changed by human hands—or if they can, those hands are not in high places.

As he brooded, he did not know that Changlin’s misfortune had already drawn the attention of others.

Changlin City was ringed by mountains, with Red Spring Mountain at one corner. The calamity spread outward from there, but the city’s formation, linked to the surrounding peaks, contained it. So long as the shield remained intact and no one escaped to sound the alarm, the city could maintain a façade of peace and prosperity.

But there are always variables. The middle-aged Daoist was one; the three young people were another.

Lie Yankong and his companions had only been passing through the forests near Changlin. But Shui Linglong’s spirit beast sensed that a spiritual being would soon be born there, so it rushed ahead. As the trio entered the city’s territory, the deeper they went, the more they sensed something was amiss. Their expressions grew grim—the entire city was wrapped in a barrier, sealing off everything within.

When they reached a desolate village, Shui Linglong, after using a probing technique, asked coldly, “Senior Lie, have you ever heard those above mention anything strange about this place?”

Lie Yankong understood her meaning. Judging by the devastated villages and wilderness, the depopulation was no recent event. But if this had happened long ago, why had there been no report? Why had the Watchers not come to investigate? The more he thought, the more questions arose.

Though the three were only a temporary investigation team, their personalities had already shown themselves during their last mission. Shui Linglong, though cool on the surface, was righteous at heart. Lu Ming was a man of few words, his sharpness sheathed like his sword. Lie Yankong, perhaps due to a different upbringing, was more thoughtful and composed.

Lu Ming said nothing, but from his expression, it was clear he shared Shui Linglong’s suspicions. After her question, he too turned to Lie Yankong.

Lie Yankong’s heart grew heavy. He truly hadn’t heard any word from above. But his position meant he could not speak out before the facts were clear, so he did not answer directly.

Instead, he checked his travel jade with his spiritual sense and saw they were close to Changlin City. “We are near the city now,” he said. “Let’s visit the City Lord’s manor before we draw conclusions.”

The others, sensing his caution, did not press him. Remembering his care during their last mission, they kept their thoughts to themselves, deciding to question the City Lord in detail when they arrived.

Thus, the three delayed their return to the capital and flew straight toward the City Lord’s residence.

As they soared overhead, Lu Ming suddenly sensed something below. He glanced toward the ground and detected a person there. This was astonishing—since entering the city’s domain, the closer they drew to the center, the fewer living souls they’d seen. Yet now, near the very heart of disaster, a mortal remained.

Lu Ming told the others what he’d sensed, and they too were amazed. After a brief exchange, they descended to investigate.

Li Yu had been making his way through the wild grass, hiding as he went, when he suddenly felt a gaze upon him. Without thinking, he broke into a run. He didn’t know whose gaze it was, only that being watched for no reason was never a good sign. In order to survive, he could only flee. But how could he outrun cultivators flying on swords?

Just as the trio caught up, his strength gave out and he stumbled. When he raised his head, he saw three young people, dressed in extraordinary fashion, standing before him.

As he looked up at them, their eyes met his gray gaze. The three were momentarily taken aback—the child’s eyes were gray.

Shui Linglong immediately used the Divine Water Palace’s secret art, the Water Tracing Method, to check for evil or demonic presence. Each sect had its own probing techniques, but if someone was hiding their true nature, not all methods could reveal it. The Water Tracing Method, however, followed the faintest traces, seeking the source even when the truth was masked.

After probing, the other two looked to Shui Linglong; she shook her head, and all three felt some relief. Lu Ming, who had been drawn down by his senses, now examined the child closely and let out a surprised exclamation.

Lie Yankong, thinking he’d noticed something, asked, “What is it, Brother Lu?”

Lu Ming composed himself and replied calmly, “It’s nothing. I only see that he carries the potential for the sword.”