The sun was setting over Falling Lotus Village, casting long shadows across the dirt roads. The villagers were finishing their day's work, laughter and warm conversations filling the air. Jiang Chen sat beneath the Ancient Willow Tree, sipping a cup of tea as he observed the passing clouds.
It had been only a few weeks since he had arrived, yet already, the village had changed. Farmers sought his advice for better crop rotations, merchants asked him to calculate the most efficient trade routes, and even the local blacksmith, Master Hui, had refined his metalworking based on Jiang Chen's casual observations about heat distribution in celestial forges—a knowledge that should have been beyond the mortal world.
And now, this…
The wandering swordsman before him, kneeling with reverence, his sword resting on his lap.
"Master," the swordsman said again, his voice steady despite the dust on his robes. "I have traveled through mountains and valleys in search of wisdom. None have shown me greater insight than you. Please, accept me as your disciple!"
Jiang Chen sighed internally.
Not again.
This was the third time this week.
The first had been a farmer's son who misinterpreted Jiang Chen's poetic musings on rain as a lesson in divine cultivation. The second was a traveling herbalist convinced that Jiang Chen's "simple" medicinal advice was secret knowledge from the lost arts of the Alchemic Saints.
And now, a swordsman?
Jiang Chen set his teacup down, studying the man before him. He was young, perhaps no older than twenty-five, his black hair tied into a loose ponytail. His sword was well-worn, but well-maintained. There was something in his gaze—a determination forged through hardship.
"What is your name?" Jiang Chen asked.
The swordsman lowered his head. "Bai Qi."
Jiang Chen exhaled slowly. "Bai Qi, do you know who I am?"
"You are a hidden sage," Bai Qi said firmly. "A man whose wisdom transcends mortal comprehension. Even a mere whisper of your insight changes lives."
Jiang Chen rubbed his temples. How did this happen?
"I am no sage," Jiang Chen said. "I am just a simple man who enjoys peace and tea. There are no great secrets here, no celestial techniques."
Bai Qi looked up, his expression unwavering. "Then how do you explain the miracles?"
"Miracles?"
"The tree you helped the farmers move with a few words. The blacksmith's sudden mastery of heat manipulation. The way even the most foolish merchant profits from your advice."
Jiang Chen opened his mouth, then closed it. From his perspective, it must truly seem miraculous.
"You misunderstand," Jiang Chen said after a moment. "I only say what I know. If it is useful, then it is because knowledge is meant to be shared, not hoarded."
Bai Qi nodded solemnly. "And that, Master, is why you are wise beyond measure."
Jiang Chen nearly spat out his tea.
This was impossible. How was he supposed to convince these people that he wasn't a sage when everything he did only reinforced their belief?
But before he could argue further, a disturbance rippled through the village.
Hoofbeats. Fast, urgent.
The villagers turned toward the main road as a pair of figures rode into the village—a young woman in a flowing blue robe and her trembling maid, their clothes dusted with dirt from travel.
The woman dismounted swiftly, her piercing eyes scanning the village.
"Where is he?" she demanded.
The villagers exchanged glances. "Who…?"
"The hidden sage," she said, her voice steady. "The man of wisdom. I need to see him—immediately."
The villagers turned in unison toward Jiang Chen, still sitting under the Ancient Willow Tree, sipping his tea.
The young woman's sharp gaze followed theirs, locking onto him.
Her lips parted slightly as she took him in—the calm demeanor, the poised grace, the aura of someone beyond mortal concerns.
She took a step forward. "You are the one they call the Hidden Sage?"
Jiang Chen sighed.
"Apparently," he muttered.