Falling Lotus Village was small, nestled between rolling hills and dense forests. The villagers were simple people—farmers, craftsmen, and the occasional wandering merchant.
Jiang Chen quickly found himself settling into a quiet routine. He helped Elder Shu organize old scrolls, repaired broken furniture, and occasionally sat under the village's ancient willow tree, watching the clouds pass by.
But even in simplicity, his celestial instincts remained.
One afternoon, he watched as a group of farmers struggled to move a fallen tree that blocked the main path. They grunted, sweat pouring down their faces, but the tree barely budged.
Jiang Chen, without thinking, spoke
"You should cut the trunk in three places—here, here, and here." He pointed. "The natural weight distribution will make it easier to roll the logs aside."
The farmers blinked at him, then followed his suggestion. To their astonishment, the tree moved effortlessly after being split.
"Unbelievable!" one of them gasped. "Scholar Jiang must be a hidden master!"
Word spread.
Soon, others came seeking his wisdom. A young boy struggling with his sword forms. A merchant unsure of his trade routes. Even Elder Shu, who had spent decades collecting herbal remedies, found Jiang Chen's casual observations insightful beyond belief.
To Jiang Chen, these were simple truths, things that came naturally from a lifetime of celestial study.
To the villagers, he was a sage among mortals.
And then, one fateful evening, a wandering swordsman arrived in the village, kneeling before Jiang Chen under the willow tree.
"Master," he said, eyes burning with determination. "I have traveled far and wide, yet none have wisdom as profound as yours. Please… accept me as your disciple!"
Jiang Chen stared, utterly dumbfounded.
What in the heavens was happening?