45: Accompany

Mo Yuhan moved closer to Ah Yin, watching her use the life energy from her fingertips to warm and nourish the charred leaf, as if it were an extremely important matter.

Silence enveloped the two of them, broken only by the crackling of the bonfire and the suppressed murmurs of villagers dreaming in the distance.

“You…”

Mo Yuhan deliberated before speaking, breaking the quiet.

He pointed to the leaf in Ah Yin’s hand, “You seem to have a deep affection for them?”

Ah Yin’s fingertips, caressing the leaf, paused slightly.

She looked up, gazing at the flickering light of the bonfire, the dancing flames reflected in her emerald eyes, yet she seemed to be looking at something much farther away.

“Plants are silent, yet they bear the marks of time, recording the cycle of life.”

Her voice was soft, as if she were talking to herself, yet also answering Mo Yuhan, “Every leaf, every vine, has felt the warmth of the sun, the nourishment of rain, and has also endured the invasion of wind and frost, the scorching of fire.”

“They cannot speak, but their very existence is the oldest and truest memory of this forest.”

Her fingertips once again brushed over the charred edge of the leaf, her voice imbued with an almost reverent tenderness, “Seeing them hurt is like… seeing a familiar friend in pain.”

These words, spoken by a “human” girl, carried a sense of age and profundity beyond her years.

Mo Yuhan understood; this was clearly the Blue Silver Emperor’s most fundamental insight into plant life from her long existence.

He listened quietly, not interrupting.

After Ah Yin finished speaking, he asked, “Sister Ah Yin, do you have a goal traveling the World alone? Or… are you just here to see all the scenery of this World?”

“A goal… perhaps.”

Her voice carried a hint of ethereal uncertainty, “I want to travel to every corner of this continent. High mountains, vast marshes, bustling capitals, tranquil villages… I want to see different scenery, meet different people, and feel the most authentic aura of this land.”

Her gaze became distant, as if piercing through the firelight before her, seeing the distant horizon, “I want to know… what the human World is truly like. Their joys, sorrows, loves, and hates… why are they so different from us?”

Her words were almost completely unmasked, so pure, no wonder Tang Hao was able to deceive her.

“Feel the authentic aura…”

Mo Yuhan repeated softly, nodding, “That goal sounds captivating.”

“Sister Ah Yin, can I come with you?”

…

The night wind blew, carrying the smell of char from the ruins and the coolness of the forest. The following days seemed to be played in slow motion.

Mo Yuhan and Ah Yin temporarily stayed in the heavily damaged village, becoming the core strength supporting the villagers in rebuilding their homes.

A peculiar rapport also developed between the two during their daily work and mutual assistance.

When Mo Yuhan was carrying heavy objects, Ah Yin would subtly allow nearby tough vines to quietly wrap around them, helping him share the burden.

When Ah Yin focused on stimulating growth in a severely damaged forest area, Mo Yuhan would instinctively stand guard nearby, wary of any dangerous small beasts that might appear.

By the bonfire at night, Mo Yuhan would continue to recount strange tales he had “heard” from various parts of the continent, often including criticisms of the overbearing actions of certain powerful forces, especially the Clear Sky Sect.

And Ah Yin, during Mo Yuhan’s storytelling, would gently pluck at the Blue Silver Grass beside her with her slender fingers, letting them sway softly with the night breeze, making a rustling sound, as if in response, or as if in contemplation.

The vines of trust quietly grew and intertwined in silence.

One day, after Mo Yuhan finished processing a batch of newly collected timber, he walked to the small stream by the village to wash the sawdust and sweat from his hands.

The stream water was crystal clear, shimmering in the sunlight.

Mo Yuhan scooped up a handful of cool stream water and splashed it on his face, feeling refreshed.

Looking up, he saw Ah Yin standing not far from the opposite bank of the stream, her head slightly tilted back, gazing at an ancient tree by the stream that had survived the beast attack and was covered in tiny white flowers.

Her silhouette appeared exceptionally serene under the dappled tree shadows.

Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the branches, dancing on her blue-green dress and dark hair, bathing her in a soft halo of light.

A few white petals were carried by the breeze, twirling gently down onto her hair and shoulders.

She did not brush them away, but simply stood quietly, her emerald eyes fixed on the tree full of blossoms, her gaze distant, as if seeing something deeper through the blooming flowers.

Mo Yuhan’s heart stirred; he did not disturb her, but merely lightened his footsteps, stopping not far from her, and also looked up at the flowering ancient tree.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Ah Yin did not turn her head, her voice as soft as a dream, carrying a trace of imperceptible sadness, “Even after enduring storms and fire, as long as its roots are deep in the earth, as long as life has not been completely extinguished, when the season for blooming arrives, it will still try its best to produce its own flowers.”

She reached out and caught a falling petal, the blue-green light points on her fingertips gently enveloping it, making the petal appear even whiter and more crystalline in her palm.

“Every flower is the gentlest praise of life, and the most stubborn declaration to a cruel World.”

Mo Yuhan looked at the small white flower in her palm, feeling the profound understanding of life and gentle resilience in her words, and a complex emotion welled up in his heart.

Such an Ah Yin, as beautiful as an untainted elf in this forest, should not have such a sacrificial ending.

“Yes,” Mo Yuhan softly echoed, his gaze shifting from the flowers to Ah Yin’s serene profile, “The power of life is always unimaginably tenacious. Just like this village, after such a disaster, haven’t everyone risen up little by little?”

Ah Yin turned her head and looked at Mo Yuhan.

Sunlight spilled onto her face, her emerald eyes like lit gems, so clear they could reflect one’s soul.

She looked at the sincere expression on Mo Yuhan’s face, at the undisguised admiration and… a complex emotion that she couldn’t fully decipher yet, tinged with protectiveness, in his eyes. A faint but incredibly real smile slowly bloomed on her lips, like ripples expanding in a stream.

“Just call me Ah Yin.”

Her voice was very soft, yet carried an undeniable intimacy, “These days, it’s also thanks to you, Xiao Han.”

Mo Yuhan’s heart trembled, immense joy almost instantly flooding him.

She allowed him to call her by her given name; this was an extremely important signal, meaning she had already let down her guard and regarded him as someone with whom she could communicate equally, or even intimately.

He suppressed the excitement in his heart, a sunny, brilliant smile spreading across his face, and nodded vigorously: “Understood! Ah Yin!”

This call was natural and intimate.

Ah Yin’s smile deepened, as if ice and snow had completely melted, and spring had returned to the land.

The horn of reconstruction had long since sounded.

Mo Yuhan fully utilized the alternative use of his Crimson Crystal Furnace.

Facing heavy, twisted metal components from collapsed houses (such as door hinges, remnants of farm tools), he no longer needed to spend time and effort hammering them.

Dark golden flames rose from his palm, and the terrifying high temperature of the Crimson Crystal Furnace was precisely controlled by him, transforming into an invisible refining blade.

The twisted iron bars quickly softened under the high temperature and were easily straightened by him.

Broken plowshares were melted into molten iron, then reshaped into usable forms under the molding of his Battle Qi.

He even tried throwing some hard stones into the edge of the furnace to calcine them, then hammered them with Battle Qi to create simple, fire-resistant stone bricks.

He was like a tireless furnace craftsman, using fire and strength to forcefully carve out a source of materials for reconstruction from the ruins.

Ah Yin, on the other hand, became a source of life and hope.

Her Blue Silver Grass Domain was no longer used for defense, but fully activated for “growth” and “repair.”

She walked on the scorched earth, and wherever she went, in the trampled and burned fields, tenacious new shoots broke through the soil, growing branches and leaves at an astonishing speed. In a few days, tender green seedlings could be seen standing stubbornly.

She guided the tough Blue Silver Grass vines, like the most skilled craftsmen, to wrap around the metal frames and stone bricks melted by Mo Yuhan, constantly reinforcing and connecting them, forming the bones of the houses.

She could even stimulate the rapid growth of some hardwood tree species, providing much-needed beams and timber for reconstruction.

The two cooperated more and more seamlessly.

Mo Yuhan would melt out rough blanks, and Ah Yin would use flexible vines to fix and shape them.

If the timber Ah Yin stimulated needed processing, Mo Yuhan would use Xuan Huang Flame to precisely dry and char the surface to enhance durability.

When a crucial support pillar needed to be built, Mo Yuhan even came up with a bold idea: he first used the Crimson Crystal Furnace to melt a pile of crushed stones into a semi-molten lava state, and Ah Yin immediately guided countless fine Blue Silver Grass roots into it.

The scorching lava quickly cooled and solidified, and those vibrant Blue Silver Grass roots were permanently sealed inside the stone pillar, like a natural rebar network, making the stone pillar incredibly sturdy.

The villagers were deeply shaken by this miraculous method of reconstruction and were filled with enthusiasm.

Under Mo Yuhan’s direction and Ah Yin’s assistance, new, sturdier houses rose from the ruins at a visible pace.

The burned fields regained vitality, and the injured people quickly recovered under Ah Yin’s continuous nourishment of life energy.

When the first new house, composed of “lava stone pillars” with embedded Blue Silver Grass veins and “vine-reinforced stone walls,” was completed, the entire village erupted in cheers of survival.

The villagers looked at Mo Yuhan and Ah Yin, standing side by side in front of the new house, still bearing the marks of reconstruction, their eyes filled with genuine gratitude and awe.

Mo Yuhan looked at Ah Yin beside him; her silver hair flowed with a soft luster in the sunlight, and her emerald eyes reflected the reborn village, showing a hint of fatigue, but more so, a light of contentment.

He reached out and gently took Ah Yin’s wrist.

“Ah Yin.”

His voice carried a trace of imperceptible hoarseness, yet it was incredibly firm, “Look, a new home has been built.”

Ah Yin felt the warmth from her wrist, and her emerald eyes curved slightly, like a gentle smile carrying the entire forest.

She gently squeezed his wrist back, her gaze falling on the brand new village, and softly responded:

“Yes, a new home.”

She looked at Mo Yuhan, a gentle light flowing in her emerald eyes, as if she had made a decision.

“You asked me about my goal before…” Ah Yin’s gaze returned to the ancient flowering tree, her voice carrying a distant longing, “I want to travel to every corner of the continent. But this path is long, very lonely, and full of unknown… risks.”

Her gaze turned back to Mo Yuhan’s face, with a hint of inquiry and invitation, “What… are your plans next?”