Beneath a cerulean tapestry, stretched taut as the finest silk, a handful of clouds drifted like adornments upon its radiant surface. The Qi Lian peaks stood sentinel over a winding stream, a silver ribbon snaking for leagues before surrendering to a greater river’s embrace. Nestled along this waterway’s gentle midsection lay a village, a verdant sanctuary that whispered of idyllic days.

“Aye, back then, this river flowed with water sweeter than honey,” a boy’s voice echoed through the village. “And Qi Lian’s peaks were often veiled in mists. ‘Twas said, a single breath of that fog could fortify the body, warding off illness for a decade!”

The lad, no older than fourteen summers, with a sturdy build and mischievous glint in his eyes, regaled a group of seven or eight younger children with tales of five years past.

“Look at me! Have I been sick these past years? Never! ‘Tis because my father took me to breathe the fog that one time. The taste, I tell you, was nectar itself!” He gestured wildly, painting vivid images with his words.

The younger children, eyes wide with wonder, hung upon his every syllable, longing for a taste of that mythical mist.

“Wang Ping, you above all others should have taken a breath of that magic. Alas, since the heavens showed their displeasure five years ago, the fog has vanished. Otherwise, your father could have taken you, and you’d be free of ailments for ten years!” The boy’s gaze fell upon one particular child.

This boy, barely five or six, possessed a fragile frame and a pallid complexion, noticeably smaller than his peers. Yet, his beauty was striking, like a porcelain doll, only marred by his sickly appearance. Dressed in simple homespun clothes, he looked up at his older friend, excitement gleaming in his eyes. “Zhou-gege, I shall ask my father to take me to see it when I return home.”

The older boy laughed heartily. “Wang-dashu is a fine woodworker, but the mists of Qi Lian are gone! What good will it do? Nay, I say you lot should learn from me! Practice swordsmanship every day, strengthen your bodies, and one day, wield your blades and brave the tides of fortune!”

The lad’s spirited words ignited a fire in the children’s eyes.

But as his enthusiasm peaked, plumes of smoke rose from the village hearths, and the calls of mothers echoed from every doorway.

The boy sighed, looking towards the village. “Alas, today’s grand martial arts tournament must end. We shall resume after supper.”

With a hint of reluctance, the children dispersed, the boy named Wang Ping heading towards his home, his eyes still alight with wonder, glancing back towards the distant peaks.

As he walked, a burly man emerged from the village entrance, a hunter’s steel fork and quiver of arrows in hand, a roe deer slung over his shoulder.

Seeing the boy, the man grinned. “Wang’s little one! Off to the martial arts tournament with my lad again, eh?”

The boy nodded shyly. “Zhou-shushu, greetings.”

The man’s smile widened as he ruffled the boy’s hair. “Ah, a craftsman’s son, indeed! Handsome as you are, you still know your manners better than my own rascal. Headed home, are you? Come, Zhou-shushu will accompany you. I need to speak with your father about a matter.”

The boy readily agreed, leading the hunter towards a simple dwelling on the village’s north side. The boy dashed inside and announced, “Father, Zhou-shushu has come!”

A young man emerged from the house, unremarkable in appearance, quite unlike the boy’s striking features. Indeed, standing together, few would mistake them for father and son.

Clad in coarse cloth, his hands calloused from labor, the young man greeted him with a gentle smile. “Zhou-dage, you’ve had a good hunt, I see.”

The boy darted back outside with a steamed bun, which he nibbled on.

The Zhou man deposited the deer on the ground with a hearty laugh. “Wang-xiongdi, I found this roe buck as soon as I ascended the mountain! Not a bad haul, eh?”

The young man smiled warmly, ruffling the boy’s hair. “With Zhou-dage’s skill, taking down a roe deer is no feat at all.”

The Zhou man chuckled. “Wang-laodi, my boy’s growing up. In a year or two, I’ll need to find him a wife. I’m planning to build a house soon, but I’ll need furniture. I was hoping to trouble Wang-laodi with that.”

Wang Lin responded cheerfully. “No trouble at all, Zhou-dage. I’ll take care of it.”

The Zhou man grinned. “Good! Consider this roe deer as a deposit.” With a fist salute, he turned and departed.

As soon as he was gone, the boy leaped to his feet, circling the roe deer, his eyes wide with wonder.

“Father, Zhou-shushu is so strong! To hunt such a beast!” Wang Lin looked at him with affection and said, “Enough looking, Ping’er. Time for your medicine.”

The boy sighed and looked up at his father. “Father, is Ping’er allowed to not take medicine?”

The young man went inside and brought out a bowl filled with a milky fluid, with no odor. The boy took it with a frown and swallowed it, one small sip after another, until his face scrunched up in disgust. He ran to the water jar to wash the bitterness away.

“Father, when will Ping’er be allowed to stop drinking medicine?” the boy asked.

These two were none other than Wang Lin and Wang Ping.

Wang Lin, his gaze soft, replied softly, “Soon.”

As night deepened, moonlight cast a silver sheen over the land, a cool serenity blanketing the village nestled beneath the Qi Lian peaks.

Save for the occasional bark of a dog, silence reigned.

Inside the house, Wang Ping slept soundly, his pale face peaceful, a smile playing on his lips, as if dreaming sweet dreams.

Wang Lin sat cross-legged beside him, a flicker of lightning dancing between his brows. Slowly, he raised his right hand, the lightning snaking from his brow, down his arm, and into his fingertips.

Gently, Wang Lin pressed his hand against the sleeping boy’s forehead. Instantly, electrical energy coursed through Wang Ping, and wisps of black energy erupted from the child’s body, coalescing upon his skin.

The dark aura intensified, swirling within the electric light, until finally, it burst forth. Wang Lin, with a swift motion, seized the black energy, capturing it within his fist, forming a red orb.

He clenched his fist, crushing the orb.

The sleeping boy’s complexion flushed slightly.

Watching the child, Wang Lin sighed, covering his son with the blankets he had kicked off before leaving the house.

In the courtyard, the moonlight bathed Wang Lin’s figure, casting a lonely shadow.

“Five years…” Wang Lin murmured.

Five years prior, Wang Lin had returned to Ran Yun Star, settling in this Falling Moon Village. He had chosen it because it reminded him so much of his home.

Wang Ping, the former vengeful infant, after receiving the pills from Liu Mei and Wang Lin’s careful balance of lightning energy, had lost most of his vengeful energy and could now live as a normal child.

However, if he didn’t take his daily medicine and balanced the vengeful energy, he would revert to his previous condition. This process would take some time.

Wang Ping’s memories had been erased by Wang Lin, and he had been given a new life.

In this peaceful village, Wang Lin’s heart had settled, finding solace far from the bloodshed and conflict. Here, he found life as calm as water.

This was a life that he could live comfortably.

He supported himself by woodworking, like his father. It was like his father’s wish of becoming a woodworker and inheriting the family business if he couldn’t pass the Imperial Exam.

His yard was filled with woodworking tools, a testament to his five years there.

Whenever he saw Wang Ping go out to play with the children, Wang Lin would think back to his childhood. He would not return home until the meals were ready.

In the moonlight, footsteps echoed outside the yard, and a tottering figure approached.

“Is the child asleep?” The aged voice was followed by the figure of an elder with a stooped back.

Wang Lin nodded slightly, remaining silent. The old figure entered the yard, and the moonlight shone down on them, revealing Sun Tai.

Sun Tai’s face was even more worn with wrinkles. Sun Tai had come in the third year of Wang Lin’s stay. It was as if a lonely old man did not want to pass away alone.

Sun Tai looked at the house in the moonlight with love. He wasn’t sure why, but he liked the child Wang Ping very much.

“How long do you intend to remain with this child?” Sun Tai asked with a sigh, taking his eyes off the house.

Wang Lin was silent for a long time before looking at the moon and murmuring, “A lifetime of reincarnation…”

“Reincarnation…” Sun Tai sighed. “Don’t you plan on having him cultivate? With your cultivation, you could make his path easier than those of even the direct line of some cultivation clans.”

“I will not allow him to cultivate, and I never will!” Wang Lin said softly, a trace of disappointment in his eyes.

“This child has good talent…” Sun Tai pondered for a moment before saying.

“I will not allow him to cultivate!” Wang Lin said calmly while looking at Sun Tai. “Never!”

What will remain if you keep on cultivating? Wang Lin asked himself. He was unlucky and lonely his entire life. He wouldn’t let his son go through that.

He understood the cruelty, slaughter, and dangers of the cultivation world.

“Ping’er has experienced a lot of things he shouldn’t have. I named him Wang Ping in hopes of him living a peaceful life, like a normal person, with a wife and children… Do not mention cultivation ever again!” Wang Lin’s voice was firm, resolute, and unyielding.