Cultivation starts with picking up attributes
Chapter 124: Ch-124: A new lantern

Chapter 124: Ch-124: A new lantern

The fog-shrouded gorge parted like a curtain as Elder Su guided the spirit crane downward.

The creature’s wings rustled softly, slowing their descent until they hovered just above a winding forest path.

Tian Shen leapt down with practiced ease, landing on moss-damp earth.

Elder Su followed a moment later, the hem of her robe brushing wet leaves.

"Come."

She said.

They walked.

No grand sect gates. No runic lights. Just the scent of pine and the occasional chirp of insects hidden in the undergrowth.

The world here felt more fragile—like a painting left too long in the sun.

Tian Shen recognized the shift immediately.

"We’re in mortal lands."

Elder Su nodded.

"Deep in the outer edges. A place the Sect hasn’t touched in decades."

A turn in the road revealed a small village nestled against a hillside. Smoke rose in thin ribbons from clay chimneys.

Thatched roofs, stone walls, the distant murmur of water wheels. Children’s laughter floated on the wind.

No spirit beasts. No Qi cultivators. Just... life.

Tian Shen slowed his steps.

"Why here?"

"To remember."

Elder Su said simply.

They entered the village as a pair of travelers. No sect emblems. No obvious cultivation robes.

Elder Su concealed their presence with a flick of her fingers, a subtle veil of illusion cloaking their spiritual signatures.

Old men on porches nodded at them. A girl carrying a bucket of water grinned toothlessly.

A dog barked and ran after a flock of chickens. Tian Shen blinked, almost stunned by the normalcy.

"This place..."

He murmured.

"...survived a war fifteen years ago," Elder Su said.

"A remnant demon launched a raid. Killed the village leader. Burned half the homes."

She glanced at him.

"Feilun Sect came, but yet again not in time."

They passed a shrine, small and soot-streaked, yet repaired. Lanterns hung from its eaves. Names carved into its wooden beams.

"They rebuilt it themselves," she added. "Buried their own. Raised the next generation."

Tian Shen said nothing.

A few curious children gathered near them. One tugged at Tian Shen’s sleeve.

"Are you a hero?"

He looked down, startled.

"No."

The child frowned.

"You look like one."

"He’s a wanderer," Elder Su said kindly, offering the child a sweet from her sleeve. "Just passing through."

The child beamed and ran off.

Tian Shen watched her go.

"They have no idea who we are."

"They don’t need to."

They spent the evening in the local inn, a modest building with creaky floors and beds stuffed with hay.

The food was simple: vegetable stew, rice, wild herbs. But Tian Shen ate every bite.

Later, beneath the stars, they stood on a ridge overlooking the village. Fireflies blinked between the trees.

The villagers lit lanterns one by one, placing them by windows, roads, wells.

"What is this?"

He asked.

"A mourning night," Elder Su said. "For those lost in the raid. They light lanterns to remind the dead they are not forgotten."

She handed him a small lantern. The paper was coarse, but the symbol drawn on its side was precise: memory.

Tian Shen took it in both hands.

"They do this every year?"

"Without fail."

They lit the lanterns together. Dozens floated skyward, casting a golden glow across the trees.

Tian Shen watched until his eyes stung—not from smoke, but something deeper.

"They don’t have formations," he said hoarsely. "They don’t have guards. But they still remember better than we do."

Elder Su didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.

...

The next day, they left.

The second village was farther west, built along a riverbed fed by melted snow from the mountains.

Unlike the first, this one bore signs of old conflict still healing—scars on stone, wooden homes rebuilt hastily, too many shrines for too few people.

Tian Shen saw a boy limping with a cane, one leg clearly injured in a beast attack.

He saw a woman offering prayer to a shrine carved from rubble. He saw a child placing flowers on a broken statue.

"How many villages like this?"

He asked quietly.

"Too many."

They stayed two days, helping without titles. Tian Shen repaired roof tiles using his hands, not Qi.

Elder Su taught an old farmer how to treat soil made brittle by spiritual leeching.

At night, they watched the stars again. And Tian Shen whispered the names of his fallen scouts.

Xu Wei. Lan Tong. Jie Lin. Bao Yu...

He spoke until sleep took him.

...

The third village was silent.

No lights. No laughter. Just abandoned homes, vines curling through windows, silence like an open wound.

"What happened here?"

Tian Shen asked.

"Poisoned well," Elder Su replied. "A cultivator passed through. Fought a spirit beast. Left remnants in the water."

He clenched his fists.

"No one warned them?"

"No one knew, nor anyone cared enough to do so."

Tian Shen knelt near a collapsed home. A child’s doll lay buried under dust. He picked it up, cleaned it off, and placed it on the step.

They stayed only one night.

That evening, Elder Su drew runes into the earth. Tian Shen watched her seal the poisoned well, purifying it.

Then she left behind a jade tablet, marked with the Sect’s symbol.

"Someone will find this," she said. "And remember."

Tian Shen stared at the houses, the emptiness, the silence.

"I thought you brought me here to teach me something," he said.

Elder Su looked at him.

"I did."

He turned to face her.

"So what is it?"

She stepped close.

"The Sect moves with power, influence, and tradition. But it forgets that the world breathes without us. That lives pass and fade without spirit stones or cultivation techniques."

She touched his chest.

"I brought you here to remind you that leadership isn’t about command. It’s about memory. About choice. You’re not here to become them, Tian Shen. You’re here to be more."

He inhaled slowly. The cold air filled his lungs.

"Then I will be."

...

By the fourth village, Tian Shen no longer asked why they had come.

This one sat on the edge of a broken ravine. A single bridge connected it to the outer road.

The villagers were wary at first, but when Elder Su healed a sick child’s fever, they opened their doors.

Tian Shen was invited to a wedding ceremony. A young couple—simple mortals—exchanged hand-woven rings beneath a flower-laden arch.

Tian Shen watched them speak vows. The groom stammered. The bride laughed. There were no spirit beasts. No Dao promises.

Just love.

And hope.

That night, he stood at the edge of the ravine, overlooking the lantern-lit village. Elder Su joined him.

"You knew I needed this," he said.

"Yes."

"To remember what we protect."

"And why you must remain yourself to protect it."

Tian Shen turned toward her.

"I don’t want to become the kind of leader who forgets these places."

"Then don’t."

She placed a scroll in his hands.

It was blank.

"What is this?"

"Your record," Elder Su said. "Of every village you visit. Every name. Every story. Start writing."

Tian Shen looked down at the scroll.

Then he nodded.

"I will."

...

The following morning, they departed quietly. No farewells, no ceremony—just a shared nod with the villagers who happened to rise early enough to see them off.

The spirit crane soared skyward, its white feathers gleaming in the morning light, casting shadows across the ravine below.

As the village disappeared into the distance, Tian Shen remained silent for a long while. The blank scroll sat rolled beside him, tucked into the folds of his outer robe.

Eventually, he turned to Elder Su.

"Where next?"

She tilted her head.

"Nowhere."

He blinked.

"We’re returning?"

"Yes."

She met his gaze.

"Not every journey has to be long. The important ones leave seeds behind."

He nodded slowly, then reached for the scroll. Pulling it open across his lap, he pressed his fingers to the paper and began to write.

He didn’t start with numbers. Not with structures.

He began with names.

Not just Xu Wei and Jie Lin.

But the little girl who’d called him a hero.

The boy with the cane.

The couple who exchanged vows.

The shrine with soot-dark beams.

One by one, he gave them form. Gave them space on the page.

Elder Su said nothing—but a faint smile pulled at the corner of her lips.

When they finally descended into the lands near Feilun Sect, the sun was high. The forests shimmered with late summer haze.

Tian Shen rolled the scroll and tied it shut.

His voice, when he spoke, held no bitterness. Just quiet purpose.

"We’ll rebuild the Scout Division, not as a weapon—but as a promise."

"To the Sect?"

Elder Su asked.

"No," he said. "To them."

And from that day forward, the names of the forgotten were never lost again.

...

When they returned to the Feilun Sect three days later, the air felt different.

But Tian Shen felt grounded. Clear.

He walked through the barracks and found Feng Yin debriefing two trainees. Little Mei sat on the roof, sharpening spirit needles.

They looked up as he entered.

"You’re back," Feng Yin said simply.

Tian Shen nodded.

"I am."

He unrolled the blank scroll, now inscribed with names.

Then he placed it in the shrine beneath the spirit trees, beside Xu Wei’s fan.

And lit a new lantern.

To remember.

And to lead.