The valley was unusually quiet as Su Xianyu stepped out of his cabin, the moon hanging low in the night sky. Teng Lin had left only an hour ago, yet the old farmer couldn't shake the lingering unease that filled the air. Something in the valley had changed—something profound.
Su Xianyu's sharp eyes scanned the area as he walked to the graves of his wife and daughter. The neatly swept earth glowed faintly under the moonlight, and a gentle breeze stirred the leaves of the sparse trees surrounding the plot. For decades, this part of the valley had been heavy with negative qi, a constant reminder of his failures to protect those he loved. But tonight, the oppressive energy was gone.
He knelt before the graves, bowing his head. "You've been restless for so long," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "But now… it's as if a weight has been lifted."
The silence of the valley seemed to answer him, a serene stillness that felt foreign after so many years of suffocating tension. Su Xianyu clenched his fists, his weathered hands trembling slightly. Whatever Teng Lin had done, intentionally or not, had purified the valley in a way he could scarcely comprehend.
He rose to his feet and turned toward the center of the valley. The mysterious mound of earth stood out starkly against the surrounding terrain. It had appeared suddenly when the negative qi dispersed, and even from a distance, Su Xianyu could sense the powerful Dao rhythm emanating from it. The energy was unlike anything he'd encountered before—vibrant, full of life, and utterly foreign.
As he approached the mound, the sensation grew stronger, the rhythm syncing with his heartbeat. It wasn't hostile, but it was overwhelming, as if the very earth were alive and watching him. Su Xianyu hesitated, his instincts warning him to keep his distance.
"What in the heavens is this…" he muttered, narrowing his eyes.
The mound's surface was unremarkable, just a small protrusion of soil covered in grass and wildflowers. Yet, beneath it, Su Xianyu could feel a force that defied explanation. He crouched down, brushing his fingers lightly over the earth. The Dao rhythm pulsed faintly under his touch, sending a shiver down his spine.
His thoughts raced as he stood and stepped back. This was no ordinary phenomenon. Whatever Teng Lin had brought to the valley, it was beyond anything Su Xianyu could comprehend.
He turned away from the mound, his expression grim. There were too many unanswered questions, and dwelling on them now would only distract him. He needed to focus on preparing the valley for what lay ahead.
Back at the cabin, Su Xianyu began his work. Despite his age, his movements were swift and precise, a testament to the decades he had spent honing his skills. He summoned his spiritual energy, channeling it into the earth around him. The ground trembled slightly as three new cabins rose from the soil, their sturdy wooden frames forming in the blink of an eye.
He inspected each cabin carefully, ensuring they were fit for habitation. Though they were simple in design, they would provide adequate shelter for Teng Lin and any companions he might bring.
As he worked, Su Xianyu's thoughts drifted to his own past. The memories of his sect, the Earthshroud Sect, were bittersweet—a mix of triumphs and betrayals. The soul-sealing poison that had claimed his family and left him crippled was a stark reminder of the dangers of the cultivation world.
Yet tonight, for the first time in years, Su Xianyu felt a glimmer of hope. The poison that had ravaged his body seemed… weaker. It wasn't much, just a slight easing of the constant pain that had plagued him for decades. But it was enough to make him pause.
He flexed his fingers, marveling at the newfound strength in his grip. "Could it be…?" he whispered, his voice trailing off.
The timing was too coincidental to ignore. The changes in the valley, the purification of the negative qi, and now this subtle improvement in his condition—it all pointed to Teng Lin. But what kind of person could cause such transformations?
Su Xianyu shook his head, dismissing the thought. He would have plenty of time to observe Teng Lin in the coming days. For now, he needed to focus on the task at hand.
The next morning, the valley was bathed in golden sunlight. Su Xianyu stood on the porch of his cabin, surveying the changes with a critical eye. The newly built cabins blended seamlessly into the landscape, and the farmland looked healthier than it had in years. Even the air felt different—lighter, fresher, as if the valley itself were awakening from a long slumber.
But Su Xianyu's gaze was drawn once again to the mysterious mound. The Dao rhythm was still there, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, yet it dominated the valley's energy.
He walked toward it slowly, his footsteps crunching softly on the grass. The closer he got, the more vibrant the rhythm became, filling his senses with an overwhelming vitality.
When he reached the mound, he knelt down and placed his palm flat against the earth. The energy surged through him, invigorating and alien all at once. It was as if the land itself were alive, brimming with potential.
Su Xianyu closed his eyes, letting the rhythm wash over him. For a moment, he felt as though he were standing on the edge of something vast and unknowable—a power that could change everything.
He opened his eyes and stood, his expression unreadable. Whatever this phenomenon was, it was far beyond his understanding. But one thing was clear: the valley was no longer the same.
As he turned back toward the cabins, Su Xianyu couldn't help but feel a pang of melancholy. This place, which had been his sanctuary for so many years, was changing. And soon, he would leave it behind.
"I suppose the heavens have their own plans," he muttered.
He walked back to the cabin, his steps slow and deliberate. The sun was high in the sky now, casting long shadows across the valley. For the first time in years, Su Xianyu felt a sense of peace.
Yet, beneath that peace lay a lingering unease. The changes in the valley were undeniable, but their implications were still unclear. And as much as Su Xianyu wanted to believe that Teng Lin's arrival was a blessing, he couldn't shake the feeling that it was just the beginning of something far greater—and far more dangerous.
The day continued with Su Xianyu tending to the preparations for Teng Lin's eventual return. Despite his focus on the practical tasks, the mysterious mound remained at the back of his mind. It wasn't just the Dao rhythm or the sudden disappearance of the negative qi—it was the way the valley itself seemed to respond to the changes, as if it were alive in a way he had never known.
Su Xianyu shook his head as he walked toward the edge of the valley. His sharp gaze swept across the landscape, searching for any signs of lingering danger. The Thorncrest Mountains, with their reputation for dangerous beasts and treacherous terrain, loomed in the distance. The valley had been a refuge for decades, its natural barriers keeping most threats at bay.
But things were different now. The purification of the valley might attract unwanted attention—both from the cultivation world and from the creatures that roamed the mountains. Su Xianyu sighed, his fingers brushing against the hilt of the simple sword at his side. His condition might have improved slightly, but he was far from his prime. If trouble came, he wasn't sure he could protect this place anymore.
He made his way back to the center of the valley, his expression thoughtful. The three new cabins stood neatly in a row, their wooden frames blending harmoniously with the natural surroundings. Each cabin was modest but sturdy, with enough space for a bed, a small table, and storage.
"Simple, but it'll do," Su Xianyu muttered to himself. He ran his fingers along the edge of one cabin, inspecting the craftsmanship. It was strange to think that he'd built these so quickly, even with the aid of his spiritual energy. In his younger days, such feats would have been effortless. Now, they left him feeling a little drained.
Still, he was satisfied with his work. The cabins would be more than sufficient for Teng Lin and his friends—if they proved worthy.
The thought of Teng Lin's companions brought a small frown to Su Xianyu's face. The boy had mentioned them only briefly, but it was clear that they were part of his plans. Su Xianyu's instincts warned him to be cautious. The valley was no place for idle visitors or those unprepared for the dangers that came with it.
His gaze drifted once more to the mysterious mound, its presence a constant reminder of the changes Teng Lin had brought. Su Xianyu approached it again, his curiosity getting the better of him. The mound was small, unassuming, yet it seemed to hold an energy that defied logic.
He knelt beside it, his fingers tracing the outline of the soil. The Dao rhythm was still there, faint but undeniable. It felt… alive. Not in the way plants or animals were alive, but in a deeper, more profound sense.
"What in the heavens are you hiding?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
For a moment, he considered digging into the mound to uncover its secrets. But something held him back—a sense of reverence, perhaps, or a fear of disturbing whatever lay beneath. Su Xianyu shook his head and stood, brushing the dirt from his hands.
The changes to the valley weren't his to understand, at least not yet. Teng Lin had brought them, and it would be up to him to uncover their true nature.
That evening, Su Xianyu prepared a simple meal, his thoughts wandering as he ate. The valley was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. For years, this silence had been a source of comfort, a shield against the chaos of the outside world. But now, it felt different.
The purification of the valley had left a void, an emptiness where the negative qi had once been. It was a strange sensation, as if the valley were holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
Su Xianyu leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the ceiling of his cabin. The poison in his body had weakened further throughout the day, a subtle but undeniable change. He flexed his fingers, marveling at the ease of movement.
For decades, the poison had been a constant presence, a reminder of his failures and the price of his decisions. To feel even the slightest relief was… unsettling.
"Could it be connected to the boy?" he wondered aloud. The timing was too coincidental to ignore, but the thought of Teng Lin possessing such power was almost laughable.
Su Xianyu sighed and shook his head. There were too many unknowns, and speculating wouldn't bring him any closer to answers. He would observe Teng Lin carefully in the coming days. Perhaps the boy would reveal more about himself and the mysterious changes he had brought.
As the moon rose high in the night sky, Su Xianyu stepped outside one last time. The air was cool and crisp, carrying the faint scent of wildflowers from the surrounding fields. The valley seemed to glow under the moonlight, its newfound vitality almost tangible.
He walked to the edge of the gravesite, his gaze lingering on the headstones. For years, this had been his sanctuary, his prison, and his penance. Now, it felt like something more—a place of potential, of rebirth.
Su Xianyu bowed his head, his voice soft as he spoke to the graves. "I don't know what's happening, but I promise you this: I'll see it through. For both of you."
He straightened and turned toward the cabins, his steps slow and deliberate. There was much to prepare before Teng Lin's return. And though Su Xianyu couldn't yet see the path ahead, he knew one thing for certain: the valley had changed, and with it, so had his purpose.