Chương 8: Homecoming — Part 2

The old man's dwelling was one of the few structures that had escaped serious damage, protected by its location on the village's western edge. Inside, it was dim and cool, smelling of dried herbs and old paper. Scrolls filled shelves—records of harvests, births, deaths, the mundane history of a community that had existed for three generations. Elder Jin gestured to a cushion, then settled across a low table. He poured tea with automatic precision, his hands steady despite his age.

"Six months," the old man said, not looking up.

"That is how long you were gone. Not six days. Not six weeks. Six months, during which the seasons turned and the world continued without you." Wei Chen's hand tightened on the teacup.

"Six months."

"You did not know."

"I knew time moved differently where I was. I did not know the measure of it." He counted backward now, quietly. The raid had come in the deep autumn, weeks before his birthday. Somewhere inside that timeless place, without notice or ceremony, he had turned fifteen. Elder Jin set down his cup.

"A secret realm." The words struck Wei Chen like a physical blow. He controlled his reaction—barely—maintaining his grip on the teacup.

"You know of such things?" Elder Jin's laugh was dry, humorless.

"I am old, boy. I have lived on the fringe of the cultivation world for seventy years. I have seen things that would turn your hair white. Secret realms, spirit beasts, cultivators who move faster than the eye can follow." He sipped his tea.

"What I have not seen is a village boy enter one and emerge with power. That is... unusual."

"I was lucky."

"No." Elder Jin set down his cup with a click that sounded loud in the quiet room.

"You were chosen. Or you were prepared. Or your parents arranged something. But you were not lucky. Luck does not transform a boy into..." He gestured at Wei Chen's frame.

"... whatever you are now." If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Wei Chen said nothing. The warning in his mother's message echoed in his mind: Tell no one where you are going. Speak of this to no one.

"I will not ask what you found in that realm," Elder Jin continued.

"I do not want to know. What I do not know, I cannot be forced to reveal. But I will tell you what I know of the attack, because you have a right to understand why your parents left, and why you must be careful." He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"The attackers were cultivators. Not bandits, not mercenaries. True practitioners, at least at Foundation Establishment, possibly higher. They came in the night, twelve of them, moving with purpose. They did not steal livestock. They did not take women or children. They went directly to your family's house." Wei Chen's hands tightened on the teacup. He felt the ceramic begin to crack.

"Your parents were waiting for them." Elder Jin's eyes were distant.

"Your father wielded a spear with techniques I have never seen—not the crude stabbing of a hunter, but true martial arts, qi-enhanced, devastating. Your mother moved like water, redirecting attacks, striking with precision that spoke of decades of training. They fought together as if born to it."

"How many did they kill?"

"Four. Wounded three more. The rest fled." Elder Jin shook his head.

"But your parents did not stay. They spoke to me before they left—briefly, urgently. They said the attack had been aimed at them—either old enemies of the family or those hunting their research. If the first group reported back, a larger force would follow. They needed to draw attention away from the village and learn who was behind it."

"So they left. To protect us."

"To protect you." Elder Jin's gaze was piercing.

"They asked about you. I told them you had run into the jungle and not returned. Your mother... she wept, boy. I have known her fifteen years and never seen her weep. But she believed you were alive. She said your family's bloodline was too stubborn to die in a jungle." Wei Chen set down the cracked teacup before he could crush it. His hands were shaking.

"Where did they go?"

"East. Toward the kingdom's heartland. Beyond that, I do not know." Elder Jin reached beneath his cushion and withdrew a small cloth bundle.

"But they left this for you. Hidden in my keeping, with instructions to give it only if you returned." Wei Chen took the bundle. Inside was a jade pendant on a leather cord—a family symbol he did not recognize, carved with characters that his enhanced perception could barely focus on, as if they existed slightly out of phase with reality.

"And my parents?" Wei Chen asked.

"When did they leave?"

"Five months ago. Went after the ones who did this. Left word they'd send word when they could." Elder Jin's grip on his arm tightened.

"Be careful. The world beyond this village is not kind to those who carry more than they can protect." Wei Chen met the old man's eyes. For a moment, something passed between them—an acknowledgment, a warning, a promise unspoken.

"I know," Wei Chen said.

"I'll be careful." He stood, tucked the jade pendant into his tunic, and walked out into the sunlight.