195 Rooted in Soil and Spirit

195 Rooted in Soil and Spirit

Ever played a real-time strategy game? You know the kind… where you build a village from scratch, collect resources, train soldiers, maybe even create your own empire. They made it seem so easy: click here, build this, move there, conquer that. But this… this was no game. No neatly ordered interface. No hotkeys or minimaps. Just mud, sweat, blood, and spirit qi. And yet, for someone like me… someone with knowledge stretching back to forgotten dynasties and strength far beyond mortals… turning a hunting village into something more? It wasn’t as far-fetched as it might have seemed.

It had been two months since I chose to stay.

From atop the old cedar tree that crowned the hill beside the valley, I watched the sun cast golden rays upon the village below. The morning light was warm and gentle, revealing the fruits of my labor. Willow Village was no longer a scattered cluster of dilapidated huts, but a sturdy walled haven. The perimeter was reinforced with thick logs hewn from the forest, sharpened to menacing points, and bound together with bone-ink talismans humming with quiet power. The once open land now held a breath of solemn dignity, like a sleeping beast slowly waking.

Outside the walls, the foliage had been cut back and the terrain subtly shaped, flattened where necessary, and raised in mounds to break line-of-sight for potential invaders. Watchtowers rose at regular intervals, manned by nervous but determined villagers armed with spears I had forged myself. The faint shimmer of formations stretched across the glade like translucent veins, reactive to spiritual signatures. I could sense them constantly, pulsing faintly under the surface of the land, awaiting command.

Even so, the place was small. Minuscule, really. From my perch, the entire settlement could be traced within a few glances, dwarfed by the vast expanse of mountains and rivers beyond. And yet, it felt bigger than anything I’d ever built before.

The wind tousled my hair, but I didn’t move. Instead, I allowed the silence to settle until, like an unwanted guest, Jue Bu’s voice emerged in my mind with that signature mix of dry amusement and cold rebuke.

“So, finally deciding to raise a kingdom of your own, huh?”

I exhaled slowly, keeping my eyes on the smoke spiraling out from the village hearths.

“That’s not really how it started, though… I just want to protect the people I care about…”

“You do know that attachments are unnecessary on the path of cultivation, right?” His voice was sharper now, more deliberate. “If you hadn’t exposed yourself to danger, joining the military in your father’s place, and instead focused on your cultivation—wandering the world to raise your realm and deepen your understanding—you’d probably be halfway to escaping this prison of a world. But the way I see it, you might as well be stuck here forever. No. Considering your mortal attachments and hesitations… You might as well die in this godforsaken world. Do you want that, Da Wei?”

I scoffed aloud, the sound lost in the wind. “I can’t have everything, Jue Bu. But I can’t just let go of my attachments too easily either. I’ve made my choices… and I’ll live with them. I want to live my life picking the path I’d least regret.”

The ancient voice did not falter. “It sounds noble. But in truth, it’s just being selfish. At its essence, choosing the path of least regret is merely a convenient lie. It lets you justify clinging to these people, this place.” He paused, tone turning colder. “Just to remind you: many of these people will die. You might live forever. Are you really prepared for that? Tell me, do you not see the pattern?”

He didn’t wait for a response.

“First, the Heavenly Demon. Then, the Yama King. Now word spreads of ‘others’, those the Heavenly Demon claimed to be just like him and you. This is shaping into a battle royale between prisoners, Da Wei. And you… You seem to be forgetting that you are one of them too.”

I clenched my jaw. The sky was a deep, unblemished blue, and the clouds floated on undisturbed. The birds continued their morning song as if they hadn’t just heard my fate laid out in such grim certainty.

But I didn’t speak immediately. I let my thoughts settle in the soil of my conviction.

Jue Bu was right about the world being a cage. But unlike him, I didn’t intend to break the bars just to run. I intended to build something within it first. A foundation. A memory. Maybe even a legacy. And if I had to fight every demon, tyrant, or so-called god to keep it, then so be it.

“Then I’ll be a prisoner,” I murmured, more to myself than to him. “But one with roots.”

I leapt from the cedar with practiced ease, the wind parting around me like an old friend. My feet touched down on the soft earth with barely a sound, knees bending slightly to absorb the force. I straightened, dusted off my trousers, and set off down the slope. Another day, another pile of responsibilities. I had too much work left undone.

Even without my Paladin Legacy, the remnants of my Linguist subclass remained intact, and they had proven unexpectedly useful. I’d been spending my evenings in the makeshift scriptorium, more a repurposed granary than a proper library, carefully scribing martial techniques and cultivation methods from memory. The clarity with which I recalled them was near perfect, each brushstroke deliberate and precise. These weren’t just for show; they were seeds of power, tools for survival.

I planned to transcribe other practical knowledge as well, such as principles of engineering, sanitation, medicine, and even some basic chemistry if I could find the materials to illustrate them. But I could only move so fast, and time wasn’t a luxury I had. Between reforging scavenged metals into decent blades and armors and managing the village’s defenses, I’d already stretched myself thin.

The blacksmithing techniques I absorbed in the Hollowed World waited at the edge of my consciousness, not quite mastered, not quite forgotten. The same went for the formation knowledge… a complex, layered subject that refused to yield to shallow understanding. I could use them, yes, but wielding borrowed knowledge wasn’t the same as wielding true insight. Nongmin’s memories alone felt like entire libraries poured into my skull. One couldn’t absorb an ocean by drinking from it directly.

Still, I applied what I could.

I took the beaten path down the hill, feet naturally falling in line with the grooves worn by many days of walking. Birds chirped quietly in the trees, and the wind carried the scent of wet leaves. As I neared the creek where Da Ji and I used to play, nostalgia softened the edge of my thoughts. Those had been simple days. Back when protecting her meant just catching her when she tripped or drying her tears after a bad dream.

I crouched low behind a bush, an old impulse rising, like an older brother’s prank. I thought I would surprise her, maybe hear her squeal and laugh. But then I saw what she was doing.

Da Ji knelt by the water’s edge, her small hands slick with blood. A cat lay limp before her, its body unmoving, its belly torn open. She tugged at its entrails with careful, almost clinical focus. Her eyes were narrowed, her brows furrowed in thought. There was no malice in her expression, but also no sorrow. Just focus.

I froze.

It was hard to reconcile the image with the little sister I knew. She had always been bright, sharp-tongued maybe, but gentle-hearted… or so I believed. I swallowed, my mind instantly connecting the scene to old knowledge from another life, another world. Stories. Warnings. Patterns. So many tragic villains in media had started like this… animal dissection, early signs of cruelty. But was this that? Or was I just seeing what I feared?

“Jue Bu,” I whispered internally, unsure if I wanted a real answer, “is there something wrong with my little sister?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Why ask me when you already know the answer?”

Harsh. So much for gentle mentorship. Just because he'd been cooperative lately didn’t mean he lost his venom. Still, I clung to the decision I’d made… Da Ji was my sister. That meant she wasn’t broken and not beyond reach. If love and effort could shape a person, then I would pour both into her. If there were cracks in her soul, I’d mend them myself.

I shifted quietly, brushing the grass aside with practiced stealth. My steps made no sound, and I drew close without alerting her. Then, with a grin tugging at my lips, I called out, “Boo~!”

“Wah~!” Da Ji shrieked and spun, lashing out with her foot in a sharp kick aimed at my head.

I ducked with a chuckle, vanishing in a blur with Flash Step. I reappeared behind her and flicked her forehead as she turned to face me with a snap of my finger.

“Yowch~!” she cried, rubbing the red spot.

I gestured at the dead cat. “What’s this? And why, exactly, are you pulling out some stray cat’s intestines?”

Da Ji flailed. “Awa~ awawawaw~! It’s not what it looks like!”

I sighed, not unkindly, and took a seat on a flat rock near the creek. The stone was cool beneath me, and I reached for a pebble, tossing it into the water. It skipped thrice before sinking. My voice was calm. “I’m not angry. I just want to talk.”

She looked at me with wide eyes, still fidgeting. “You’re really not angry?”

“Nope,” I said, patting the rock beside me. “Just curious.”

She hesitated, then sat, the hem of her robe stained with earth and cat blood. The silence between us was awkward, heavy with unspoken things. I didn’t push. If she was going to tell me, I wanted it to come from her.

Eventually, she spoke, voice soft. “I wanted to see how it worked.”

“The cat?”

She nodded. “Its body. I’ve been reading the books you left in the depository. About anatomy. Pressure points. Qi pathways. I wanted to see if the books were accurate… on something real.”

I frowned slightly. “You could have asked me for help.”

“I didn’t want to waste a good training dummy.”

I bit back a sigh and tried to keep my tone even. “Da Ji, you know the difference between practice and cruelty, right?”

“I didn’t kill it,” she muttered. “It was already dead. A hawk got it. I just… used it.”

The explanation helped. A little. But her detachment? That worried me more than the act itself.

“I’m not upset,” I said again, firmly. “But listen to me. Curiosity is good. So is learning. But life, even the life of something small, should never feel that cheap to you. If it ever does, tell me. Immediately.”

She didn’t answer, just nodded, eyes cast downward.

I looked at the sky, clouds drifting lazily overhead. So much to build. So much to protect. And maybe more than anything… so much to guide.

Before I could continue berating Da Ji or unraveling the tangled thread of her bizarre behavior, I felt a soft but distinct tug against the outermost layer of the village’s defensive wards. It was like a plucked string, serving as a warning note from the world itself.

I narrowed my eyes. That wasn't supposed to happen.

“Da Ji,” I said, standing up from the rock by the creek, my voice tight and precise. “Return to the village. Tell the Chief to be on high alert. Close the gates. Ensure no one suspicious gets inside.”

She blinked, clutching the bloodied entrails like some grotesque doll, then tilted her head. “Brother…?”

I met her gaze with all the steel I could muster. “Go.”

She didn’t argue. The tension in my voice must have struck her deeply. She took off in a flurry of motion, nearly stumbling once but catching herself, her small feet pounding down the dirt path, away from the danger and toward the safety I hoped I could still guarantee.

I exhaled. No weapon on me. No armor. Just the linen shirt I’d been wearing while transcribing martial texts.

I reached inward.

Cultivation… Mind Enlightenment Realm. Third Star. Steady. My martial prowess, given recent drilling and combat experience, was somewhere around the level of a standard Master. Better than most, sure. But not remotely enough if the worst-case scenario had just slipped through the defenses I designed with my own hands.

Someone had gotten past my wards.

They had broken through the formation.

Which meant either an expert well beyond my current level, or someone I really didn’t want to meet again.

Jue Bu's voice echoed in my mind, stern and furious. “Don’t even think of burning your lifespan, you idiot! I will lend you my qi if I have to!”

I winced inwardly. “You know that’s not enough, right?”

“Just be grateful, you fucker, that you’re getting any!”

I snorted at his insult. Comforting, in its own way. I flexed my fingers and turned toward the dense vegetation beyond the creek, the trees swaying gently in a wind I didn’t feel.

I projected my voice, firm and sharp. “Reveal yourself!”

There was a long pause. Then…

“Ara ara~,” came a soft, too-sweet voice from the trees.

I froze.

Whaaaat?

The foliage parted with gentle rustling, and from the shadows stepped a woman. No, a walking headache! Long, silky black hair fell down her back, flawless and impossibly straight. She wore white and gold robes, embroidered with constellations and archaic glyphs, her sleeves flowing like curtains. Her eyes were amber, brilliant, blazing, and unnatural.

She radiated power.

The moment I saw her, my guts twisted.

“Hello there~!” she chirped, smiling like we were old friends. “Greetings to the Immortal Paladin. I am the Heavenly Seer. Nice to meet you~!”

Then she threw up a peace sign and tilted her hip, striking some kind of idol pose.

I blinked.

Then, internally screamed.

‘Oh gods above. No. No no no. Ara ara my ass.’

I’ve had enough brushes with self-proclaimed prophets, yandere cultivators, dumb brutes, and shameless artificers to just know this woman was a walking vortex of nonsense and red flags. Every cell in my body screamed run, but pride and principle made me stand firm.

I stared at her, deadpan. “You can’t be serious.”

She beamed. “Completely.”

“And you call yourself the Heavenly Seer?”

“Indeed~!”

Jue Bu groaned. “Oh, she’s probably a fellow prisoner like you. This is expected, I guess. You knew this was going to happen eventually.”

“I was hoping it wouldn’t.”

“Your life is not a hope-based economy, Da Wei.”

I clenched my jaw and addressed the woman directly. “So. You’re the one who triggered my wards.”

She nodded, as if pleased with herself. “Mhm~! Just a little test. Didn’t expect to be detected so quickly, though. My, my, your village's defenses are quite good. Did you forge the ward anchors yourself?”

“Get to the point,” I said flatly.

She folded her hands behind her back, eyes twinkling like she was teasing a child. “So grumpy~! But alright. The point, then.” She took one step forward. The air around her shimmered faintly, like reality was bending to accommodate her existence. “I’m here for you.”

Of course.

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “You’re not my type, and I’m not joining your secret sect, cult, prophecy squad, or whatever else you’re peddling.”

She giggled. “Oh, no no no. This isn’t about you. This is about the world. You just happen to be a very… interesting pivot.”

That sounded ominous.

I stared at her. “If this is about some fate-destiny-calamity bullshit, I swear to everything sacred I’m going to throw a rock at you.”

She paused. “A rock?”

“I will do it.”

She smiled wider. “I like you already.”

Great. Just what I needed.

Another lunatic with cosmic insight and no sense of personal boundaries.