The old man declined several more times, saying there was no need for Ye Fan to stay — that if he passed through again in the future, simply making up the payment for this meal would be enough.

“Sir, I have no home to return to and nowhere to go. Please, let me stay. I’ll be of use.”

“Big brother, you have no home?” The little girl was touchingly innocent, her face still wet with tears not yet dry. She looked up at him, small face filled with childlike sympathy.

In the end, the old man allowed Ye Fan to stay, tidying up a room in the back courtyard for him, and telling him he could leave at any time.

That night, Ye Fan lay awake and restless. Finally he rose, slipped out quietly, and climbed up onto the rooftop, lying there to gaze up at the sky. By now the clouds had parted, the bright moon hung full in the heavens, casting down a haze of moonlight like thin smoke, while the vault above was dotted with stars gleaming like scattered diamonds.

The warmth between the old man and the little girl had touched, without meaning to, the deepest and most hidden place in his heart. The gentle faces of his parents drifted unbidden through his mind.

“Are you both still well…”

Ye Fan gazed up at the stars, as though trying to pass through the endless expanse of stellar space and reach the other end of the sky — to return to his parents’ side. Every time he thought of them, his heart could not be still. To have vanished so suddenly — his aging parents must be heartbroken.

For them, to lose their only son in their twilight years would be a grief beyond bearing. Thinking of his parents’ sorrow, Ye Fan felt his mind in turmoil. He longed to return to their side at once, to ease their hearts and bring back smiles to their faces.

But separated by the endless expanse of the stars, with such immeasurable distance between them — how was he ever to go back? He was filled with a profound sense of helplessness, and could only lie there staring blankly up at the sky.

Every time he thought of how his parents must feel in this moment, Ye Fan’s heart ached. Since coming to this world, he had kept his longing buried deep, not daring to touch it or dwell on it lightly — each time it was stirred, he could not recover easily.

“No — I have to find a way back. I cannot let the parents who raised me spend their final years weeping…” Ye Fan suddenly sat up and murmured to himself: “There must be a way. I will go back.”

Witnessing the cultivators in the Primitive Ruins soaring through the sky and burrowing through the earth, seeing the world-shaking might of those five great figures — it had shown him just how powerful cultivators could be. Perhaps one day, when he was strong enough, he could cross the boundless span of the stars and return home, return to his parents’ side.

Having seen with his own eyes the terrifying power of cultivators, a spark of hope rose in Ye Fan’s heart. He felt that the road home had not been utterly severed — perhaps hope still remained.

“I will grow stronger. I will break free of this sky. I will go home — I will not let my parents grieve and weep any longer. I will fill their remaining years with smiles…” Ye Fan’s words grew more and more resolute as he planted conviction in his own heart. “I can do it. I must do it. I will return to their side!”

Grief and worry were useless. Ye Fan slowly steadied his feelings, letting his heart grow gradually calm. The warmth he had witnessed today between the old man and the little girl had touched him, and in doing so, swept away the last traces of uncertainty and confusion that lingered in him. He had found his goal, his direction.

“The Nine Dragons Pulling the Coffin traversed the expanse of the stars and came to this space. They could do it — so can I. I will make myself strong enough, and one day, sooner or later, I too will cross the void and return home.” Ye Fan’s eyes grew brighter and brighter. He had to grow strong — whether to rescue Pang Bo or to return to his homeland, both required great power as his foundation.

Without realizing it, drowsiness crept over him, and he fell into a deep sleep right there on the rooftop. It was not until the following morning, when the old man’s voice reached him, that he finally opened his eyes.

“Child, why did you go up on the roof? Be careful — don’t fall.”

The little girl came stumbling out of her room, still half-asleep, and when she saw Ye Fan on the rooftop, her eyes flew wide open. “Big brother, what are you doing up there?”

Faced with the puzzled looks from the old man and the child, Ye Fan felt a touch awkward. “It was too hot last night, so I came up here to cool off and accidentally fell asleep.”

After washing up, the old man called him in for breakfast — a small pot of white rice porridge and a dish of pickled vegetables, very simple, for their means were truly limited. The little girl was already quite sensible; she had laid out the bowls and chopsticks beforehand, then ladled a full bowl of porridge for Ye Fan, and a full bowl for her grandfather. But when it came to her own turn, she served herself only a tiny bit — and she was using a small bowl to begin with, so the amount she gave herself was almost nothing. She finished it in a few mouthfuls, then set down her chopsticks.

“Why did you eat so little?” the old man asked her.

The little girl, though dressed in patched clothes, was as lovely as a fine porcelain doll. She patted her small belly and said, “I’m full.”

“Nonsense. You only had a few bites — how could you be full?”

“I really am. Last night I ate the piece of chicken Grandfather saved for me, and half a steamed bun — I’m still not hungry even now.” As she said this, she picked up her small bowl and made to go rinse it.

The old man pulled her back, filled her little bowl to the brim with porridge, and said, “Good child — you’re still growing. You need to eat. Don’t worry; we still have rice at home.”

“I’m not worried. I really am full. Grandfather, you need to eat more…” The little girl poured much of her own porridge into the old man’s larger bowl.

The old man wasn’t quick enough to stop her. He said nothing more, only let out a quiet sigh.

“Grandfather, will those bad people come again today?” The little girl’s rosy face showed a flicker of fear. Her voice was very small and childlike. “They already took Grandfather’s inn. Now we can barely eat. Every day they come to cause trouble and we can’t do any business at all. We can barely feed ourselves — why won’t they leave us alone?”

“It’ll be all right. Don’t be afraid. Grandfather won’t let them hurt you.” The old man stroked her head, then added some more porridge to her bowl.

Ye Fan sat quietly to one side, saying nothing, and finished this simple breakfast in silence — but his heart was far from calm.

The old man’s surname was Jiang — an ancient surname with a long and weighty history if one traced it back far enough, though this particular old man was very ordinary, just one soul among countless in the world, living a life now very much in difficulty. The sweet and lovely little girl was called Tingting. Her parents had passed away two years ago, leaving her and the old man to depend on one another.

Ye Fan said little. After breakfast, he told the old man: “Uncle, I’m going out to have a look around.”

“You’re not familiar with this place. Be careful,” the old man cautioned.

The town was neither large nor small — it had more than a thousand households, close to five thousand people in all. At the busiest crossroads stood several inns and restaurants, and the general goods shops were also mostly concentrated there, while the rest of the town was largely residential.

Ye Fan circled through the town, then headed out beyond its edges. Many fields pressed close to the town, and further on lay forests and mountains, with hunters going into the hills every day.

Ye Fan entered the forest. The deeper he went, the more surprised he became. Standing atop a high peak and looking into the distance, he could see range upon range of mountains stretching endlessly, wrapped in drifting mist, the old-growth forest seemingly without end.

“Roarrr…”

Deep in the forest, the sound of growls rumbled out. Ye Fan felt no alarm — instead, a look of pleasure crossed his face. The small town truly was a place where he could cultivate with a settled mind: not only was it peaceful and quiet, it also bordered deep mountains that surely harbored exotic beasts and spirit medicines — exactly the things he needed most.

Ye Fan spent less than half a day exploring the mountains, not venturing very far in. There would be plenty of time later; no need to rush. Around midday he began to make his way back out. Along the path he encountered several hunters and a few herb gatherers.

“The life of an ordinary person truly isn’t easy…” Ye Fan felt a pang of sadness. He spotted a group of hunters carrying some game, and also bearing a body soaked in blood — someone who had clearly been torn apart by a large beast while hunting.

In the distance, several roe deer were drinking at a mountain stream. Ye Fan circled around without a sound, then hurled a piece of mountain rock with full force. With a crack, he knocked one deer down into the stream. He then hunted a river deer in the forest as well, and only then made his way back.

Several hunters along the path caught sight of a boy of eleven or twelve dragging a roe deer and a river deer, and all stared in astonishment. Ye Fan paid them no mind — he was planning to live in this small town for a while, and such things were unavoidable.

Near midday, Ye Fan returned to town. He sold the roe deer to a butcher, then used the money to buy some rice and flour. Carrying the river deer and the supplies, he made his way toward Old Uncle Jiang’s small restaurant.

From some distance away, he could already see a crowd gathered there. Tingting’s helpless crying reached him through the press of people, and Ye Fan’s heart gave a sudden lurch. He rushed forward at once.

The old man’s white hair was disheveled and loose, his face marked with bloodstains. He sat on the ground, drained of strength, his patched clothes covered in dust. Little Tingting was crying brokenly, using her small sleeves to wipe the blood from the old man’s face, tearfully addressing the few men who stood before them hurling harsh words: “You’re bad people! You took Grandfather’s inn, and now we don’t even have food to eat — why won’t you leave us alone…”

A sallow-faced middle-aged man crouched down and jabbed a finger hard into little Tingting’s forehead, sending her stumbling and sitting down on the ground. “What does a little brat like you know!” he snapped.

“If you have something to say, say it to me — don’t treat the child that way…” Old Uncle Jiang shielded Tingting behind him, wiped the blood from his face, and said, “What exactly do you want from us?”

“We don’t want anything in particular. We came here to eat, and you tell us there’s nothing to serve. What kind of restaurant is this? If that’s how it is, just shut your doors for good.”

“Bad people! You come here every day and eat without paying — where would we get money to keep feeding you…” Little Tingting cried from behind Old Uncle Jiang’s back.

Among the gathered onlookers, quite a few found it unbearable to watch, but none dared to step in. They could only urge Old Uncle Jiang: “Old Jiang, close this little shop and take your granddaughter away from here.”

“Exactly — their family has cultivators among them. We ordinary folk can’t afford to provoke them. The two of you should leave as quickly as you can.”

“Even if it means leaving your home, it’s still better to go.”

……

“What are you all saying?” The sallow-faced middle-aged man rose to his feet and swept a glance across the onlookers. Those voices fell instantly silent.

Ye Fan’s fury surged, but he did not act immediately. The opposing family had cultivators among them, and he feared that if he acted rashly, he would only bring greater trouble down on this grandfather and granddaughter. Of course, he had no intention of letting these people off — just because he wasn’t acting now didn’t mean he wouldn’t settle the score afterward.

At this point, the sallow-faced middle-aged man and the others swaggered away. The onlookers pressed forward one by one to console Old Uncle Jiang, their voices mingling with little Tingting’s heartbroken sobs.

Only after a long while did the crowd gradually disperse. Little Tingting, her large eyes red and swollen, helped the old man to his feet and led him back inside the small restaurant.

Watching a kind old man in the twilight of his years being subjected to such abuse, and seeing little Tingting in her clothes full of patches crying so bitterly — Ye Fan felt a rage that went beyond fury. He stared in the direction the men had gone and clenched his fist tight.