155: Chapter 154 Ten Years

After Yun Ming settled down here, his days passed even more peacefully than he had imagined.

For the first few days, he was still worried about whether people would come up the mountain to disturb him, but it turned out the villagers were even more mindful than he was.

Forget about going up the mountain; they even avoided the path at the foot of it.

The villagers who used to gather herbs on the mountainside moved elsewhere, the hunters stopped heading to the higher elevations, and even the shepherds drove their flocks to the slopes on the other side.

During festivals, some would leave offerings of fruit and dried fish at the foot of the mountain, arranged neatly; they would leave immediately after setting them down, never staying a moment longer.

Yun Ming found it somewhat amusing, yet also felt a bit uneasy about it.

He went down the mountain once and sat under the large banyan tree at the village entrance for an entire afternoon.

At first, the villagers were quite restrained, watching from a distance and not daring to approach.

The Elder Patriarch, leaning on a cane, walked over tremulously and asked cautiously, "Im... Mr., you have come down the mountain; do you have any instructions for us?"

Yun Ming said there were no instructions, he was just sitting for a while.

The Elder Patriarch stood there, unsure whether to leave or stay.

Yun Ming patted the stone bench beside him: "Sit."

The Elder Patriarch sat down.

The two of them just sat there, looking at the sea, neither of them speaking.

After quite a long time, the Elder Patriarch spoke tentatively, "Mr., do you understand the weather at sea? The wind direction hasn't been quite right these past few days; I'm afraid waves are coming."

Yun Ming said he didn't understand it much.

The Elder Patriarch then began to explain the weather at sea to him—which wind directions would cause waves, which cloud formations indicated a storm, and which direction the seabirds flew to show where the schools of fish were.

Yun Ming listened, asking a question every now and then.

They sat like that for the entire afternoon.

The next day, Yun Ming came again, and on the third day as well.

Slowly, the villagers discovered that this "Immortal" on the mountain didn't seem scary at all.

He didn't glow, didn't ride on clouds or mist, and couldn't overturn rivers and seas with a wave of his hand.

He just sat under the banyan tree, chatting with the Elder Patriarch, talking with the fishermen returning from the sea, and sometimes helping the village children pick coconuts from the trees.

The children were the first to stop being afraid of him.

There was a child named Xiao Hai, seven or eight years old, who was the boldest.

He ran up to Yun Ming, looked up, and asked, "Can you really fly?"

Yun Ming said he could.

Xiao Hai said, "Then fly once for me to see."

Yun Ming floated up, three feet off the ground, and suspended himself there.

The children let out a collective "Wow" and swarmed around him.

Xiao Hai reached out and touched Yun Ming's feet, confirming he was truly suspended in the air, and jumped for joy.

From then on, every time Yun Ming went down the mountain, a string of children followed behind him.

He taught them to read, told them stories of the outside world, and sometimes performed a few small Spells to make them happy.

The children called him "Mr. Yun," with more affection than anyone else.

The adults watched this, and the weight in their hearts gradually lifted.

This Immortal—no, this Mr.—truly had no airs about him.

Those going out to sea began to greet him: "Mr., the fishing is good today; would you like to take two back with you?"

The old farmers would call out to him: "Mr., the coconuts grew well this year; why not pick a few to taste?"

Even the village women dared to strike up a conversation with him: "Mr., are your clothes torn? Give them to me, and I'll mend them for you."

Yun Ming responded to each of them, and sometimes he really did take back two fish or a few coconuts.

When Qin Wan saw this, she said they couldn't take people's things for nothing.

Yun Ming thought about it and began treating the illnesses of several village elders, and he also taught the fishermen a few ways to identify the weather—not Spells, but methods based on changes in cloud layers and sea breezes, all of which he had summarized after months of observation on the mountain.

The villagers treated these as treasures and respected him even more.

Days passed like this, one by one.

Qin Wan was even more popular with the villagers than he was.

She was naturally someone who couldn't stay idle; back at the Qingxuan Sect, she had grumbled about being bored every day, and now she had finally found things to do.

She wove nets, mended clothes, and dried fish with the village women, and even learned how to salt fish and brew rice wine.

Her needlework was excellent, and the village girls and wives all came to learn from her.

Her cooking was also good; during festivals, someone would always invite her to help take charge of the kitchen.

In less than half a year, she remembered the name of every single person in the village.

Whose family had a baby, whose family had married a wife, whose elderly relative was in poor health—she knew better than even the village chief.

Sometimes when Yun Ming went down the mountain and heard someone calling for "Aunt Qin" or "Granny Qin," he knew they were looking for his mother.

Qin Wan was already in her fifties, and the beauty preserving pill made her look only in her early thirties, but her state of mind was much better than when she was at the Qingxuan Sect.

She no longer worried about her son fighting and killing outside, and she no longer spent entire nights unable to sleep.

She was busy every day, talking and laughing with the village women, and the wrinkles on her face had significantly decreased.

Yun Ming would sometimes look at her and think that perhaps this was the life she truly wanted.

Not living in a major Sect, not wearing gold and silver, not being respectfully called "Senior" by a group of Cultivators.

Just being in a small village, with a few friends to talk to, things to do, something to look forward to, and living a steady, peaceful life.

One day, Yun Ming was sitting under the banyan tree drinking tea with the Elder Patriarch.

The Elder Patriarch was over eighty; his spirit was still good, but his legs were no longer nimble.

As he drank his tea, he suddenly brought something up.

"Mr., did you know? Outside this archipelago, there is an even larger island."

Yun Ming became interested: "How large an island?"

The Elder Patriarch gestured: "A hundred times, a thousand times larger than our main island. There are mountains, rivers, plains, and forests on it. I hear there are even Immortals living there, the kind who can fly. If a child from here is chosen by an Immortal, they will be taken to that island to learn Immortal Arts and become an Immortal."

Yun Ming asked: "Have you been there?"

The Elder Patriarch shook his head and smiled: "Can't go. There are sea monsters in the ocean, big enough to overturn ships. Our small boats are in danger just dozens of miles out. Only Immortals can fly over."

He paused and sighed, "When I was young, I also thought about going to that big island to see it, even if just for a glance. Later I grew old, and I stopped thinking about it."

Yun Ming didn't take up the conversation; he just smiled and said, "If there's a chance, I'll go have a look."

The Elder Patriarch's eyes lit up: "Mr., you can fly over?"

Yun Ming said he could.

The Elder Patriarch was silent for a while, then shook his head: "Never mind. If you go, Mr., you won't want to come back. There are Immortals there, Immortal Arts, and a good life to be had. Staying here is a waste for you."

Yun Ming didn't explain.

He didn't want to say that life on that big island might not necessarily be better than here.

He didn't want to say that the Immortals there might not necessarily be happier than the fishermen here.

He didn't want to say that he had seen too many people fighting over a "good life" only to be left with nothing in the end.

He simply said, "It's quite nice here."

Days passed like this.

One year, two years, five years, ten years.

The sea was still that same sea, the islands still those same islands.

The fishing village was still that same fishing village, working at sunrise and resting at sunset.

Xiao Hai grew up and became the best fisherman in the village.

Of those children who used to follow Yun Ming asking for candy, some had taken wives, some had married, some went out to sea to fish, and some stayed home to farm.

The Elder Patriarch passed away eight years ago; he went peacefully that day, sitting under the banyan tree, looking at the sea, soaking in the sun, and then he was gone.

Yun Ming recited a passage of the Rebirth Mantra for him; the village elders said that with an Immortal reciting scriptures, the Elder Patriarch's soul would surely go to a good place.

Yun Ming didn't tell them that he wasn't an Immortal, and what he recited wasn't some profound scripture; it was just the most ordinary Rebirth Mantra, something even Cultivators in the Foundation Establishment Stage would find meager.

But he felt that the Elder Patriarch wouldn't mind.

Qin Wan grew older.

The beauty preserving pill could preserve her appearance, but it couldn't preserve the look in her eyes.

Her gaze became increasingly kind and peaceful, like this stretch of sea, calm and without waves.

She no longer asked Yun Ming when they would leave, no longer asked if anyone would come chasing them, and no longer asked about those Cultivators.

She just spent every day in the courtyard growing vegetables, raising chickens, and sunbathing, occasionally going down the mountain to chat with her old sisters in the village.

Yun Ming's Cultivation didn't slacken either.

After his Golden Core had shattered and reformed, it was even more solid than before.

Five Golden Cores rotated slowly within his Dantian, neither hurried nor impatient. Spiritual energy seeped in from the world in thin strands, gathering into trickles, then into small streams, slowly filling the once-parched Dantian.

He was no longer in a rush for a Breakthrough, no longer racing against time.

He would Cultivate when it was time to Cultivate and rest when it was time to rest. Sometimes he would Cultivate for several days straight, and sometimes he would sit at the foot of the mountain for several days in a row, watching the sea, watching the clouds, and watching the children pick up seashells by the shore.

He learned how to fish, how to read the weather, and how to brew rice wine.

He even learned how to repair boats—taught by Uncle Chen in the village; the old man had great skill, and Yun Ming followed him for several months. Although he couldn't match Uncle Chen, patching a crack or replacing a plank was no problem.

Days passed like this, slow as the tide by the sea, rising and falling, falling and rising; before he knew it, ten years had gone by.

This evening, Yun Ming sat on a bamboo chair in the courtyard, watching the sunset slowly sink into the sea.

A brilliant sunset glow burned across the horizon, dyeing the entire ocean golden.

Seabirds flew back to their nests in flocks, and in the distance were the silhouettes of fishing boats, slowly sailing back into the harbor. Qin Wan was busy in the kitchen, wisps of cooking smoke rising and carrying the aroma of food.

Yun Ming closed his eyes, listening to the sound of the waves.

One after another, unhurried.

Then he opened his eyes and looked toward the distant horizon.

There was nothing there.

Only the sea, only the sky, and the twilight about to sink into darkness.