Feng Lin returned to his secluded residence, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows upon the walls. His gaze was distant, the weight of unspoken worries settling in his heart. The victories he had earned in the northern territories played vividly in his mind—but so did the silent repercussions.
"In the northern regions, my performance clearly outshone that of my brothers... They were thoroughly suppressed. Such humiliation, they will not take lightly."
"Their dissatisfaction will only increase with time. If they cannot strike me directly, they may aim where my heart is most vulnerable... my son. Damaging my Dao Heart through him would be their most venomous path."
His showed his worry in silent thought. The walls may have ears, but his heart saw clearly.
"He must remain home. He must not step beyond these gates until the storm passes."
Though Feng Lin was the youngest among his siblings, and the least experienced in terms of age, he was far from naïve. He understood well the nature of power, the schemes that brewed within a family cloaked in prestige but rotted with ambition.
"So long as Father still watches from his seat, they wouldn't dare act against my son openly... But the boy's recent foolishness—"
"—may hand them opportunities I cannot afford."
His spies had reported his son's behavior spanning nearly the last nine centuries. Each account only deepened his worry.
After a long silence, Feng Lin's eyes grew resolute.
"Seclusion. It is the only way. I must convince him to retreat from the world, at least for now."
Meanwhile, in the residence of Feng Ming...
The young heir stood alone, shadows dancing beneath his eyes as news reached him—his uncles had returned.
"Now that they're back... my position grows even more dangerous."
"I've never had many options... but now? Even those may vanish. This could become a disaster."
He clenched his fists in frustration. The world was already hostile—but now, it brimmed with vipers.
In his desperation, his thoughts drifted to one man—the person he had called Master in his first life.
A Fragment of the Past
Ten years. A decade had passed since he had begun following that enigmatic figure. A man who acted solely by whim, whose moods shifted like the winds, and whose cruelty often came unprovoked. Yet despite all this, he had never once killed Feng Ming. At times, the man beat him, yes—but not to kill.
Feng Ming had pondered this deeply. Was there a reason? A hidden motive? Or was he merely a passing amusement to a monster cloaked in flesh?
The man sat now, cross-legged beside a quiet riverbank in lotus posture , eyes closed in deep meditation. The rustling of leaves mingled with the whispers of water, creating an eerie serenity. Feng Ming stared at him, his mind clouded with questions, pain, and confusion.
Then the voice came—calm, deep, and laced with arrogance. A voice too familiar.
"You think too much, kid."
"Life is a journey with no end. Caution is good—but in front of me, it's meaningless. Against overwhelming power, all your plans are child's play."
The words pierced deeper than a blade. Feng Ming remained silent. It wasn't the first time his master had read his thoughts. It wouldn't be the last.
He had seen death—countless, bloody deaths—by this man's side. At first, he grieved for every stranger who fell, guilt clinging to his soul like a parasite. He wondered if their demise was somehow his fault, merely by being there.
But time was a cruel teacher. Ten years of carnage had dulled him. The rivers of blood had long since washed away his sorrow. He no longer wept. He no longer trembled.
Now, he was a man with no goal. No destination. No fear of death. In fact, death felt more like mercy in that situation. A release, gifted by the heavens.
After a long silence, he finally answered.
"Indeed... life is a journey."
"But I'm someone with no road ahead. No destiny. I don't know what awaits me tomorrow, or even the next moment."
"Back then, I thought following you would be my great fortune. That I'd learn cultivation and find purpose. But now..."
"Ten years later, I realize how foolish I was."
The man opened his eyes slightly, and for a moment, something unreadable flashed within them.
"Then tell me," he said, voice calm like still water.
"What is cultivation?