Dao of the World Walker (Xianxia) Book 2

Yang, now aware of the drill, braced himself as he felt the familiar wave of energy crash into him as he noticed the woman's warm brown eyes turn the now familiar vibrant electric blue, and felt the bead ravenously reach out to consume the treat.

Yang and the bead would both have loved for her to continue pushing wave after wave of energy into him, and he could feel the bead trying to draw out more from her touch on his chest. Unfortunately, she wasn’t as generous as the healer. She lifted her hand and patted his cheek as if she knew what exactly had been going through his mind.

“Young one,” she said in a chiding tone, “it's not good manners to draw from others without permission.” Yang blanched, well aware that the bead’s greed for energy was going to get him in trouble if he wasn’t careful.

Thankfully, she didn’t seem angry and continued speaking to him in the same gentle tone, moving her hand to caress his hair instead.

“Oh, Nahar. Sivlar has been unkind to you.” She looked saddened. “Unaib told me you have trouble recalling anything.”

Yang looked up at her, maintaining his uncertain demeanor. “You are in no trouble,” She assured him. “Tell me, what do you remember?”

Yang just lightly shook his head, keeping his voice quiet and unsure. “I don’t remember anything before waking up near the river.”

The healer seemed to have reached the end of his patience and turned to the woman, his voice laced with concern. “Saral, what is wrong with the boy? Can he be healed?”

“There is nothing I can do, Unaib.” The woman turned to look at the man, Unaib, with sympathy. “The Sivlar has chosen to both bless and curse the boy.”

She looked at Yang wistfully. “You have been given a great gift and a greater burden by the Sivlar, young one.”

The man didn’t seem satisfied with the answer. “Surely you jest!” he said, displeased. “He is too young. He has lost all his memories, and now you expect him to begin something he shouldn't even be thinking about for years?”

The woman maintained her composure as she calmly replied to the man, not letting his sharp tone bother her. “The decision is neither mine nor yours. He comes from Sivlar, and Sivlar has deemed him ready.”

Yang filed each word away in his mind and had to wonder, with all this talk of Sivlar, which was apparently the name of the river where Nahar had lost his life, if he had transmigrated into a society of this world's version of hippies.

He wanted to ask a hundred questions but refrained from doing so, unsure how the actual Nahar usually acted; after all, losing memory was one thing, but suddenly acting too much like an adult or showing unusual intellect was bound to draw suspicion. The last thing he needed was for these people to think of him as some kind of evil spirit and try to exorcise him or worse kill him.

He spoke tentatively, probing to get more information. “Who am I?”

The woman turned to look at him. “Oh, Nahar, it must be so scary not knowing anything or anyone.”

She took his hand as she began explaining to him his circumstances. “I am Saral, the priestess of Sivlar.” She paused as she pointed her chin towards the man sitting on Yang’s other side, “This is Unaib, a healer of the tribe,” before turning back to look at Yang. “And you, my child, are Nahar. A child of Sivlar.” She slowed as if choosing the right words, “And it seems the Sivlar has chosen to take your memories away and given you the gift of wielding almost a decade too soon.”

“Wielding?” Yang asked, masking his eagerness under a layer of childish curiosity.

“The Sivlar blesses its children with the ability to wield its water.” The woman, the Priestess Saral, continued. “You absorbed the energy of Sivlar that Unaib and I channeled through to heal your injuries, didn't you?” The priestess asked, giving him a knowing look.

Yang looked properly abashed, “I didn't know what it was; I just did it.”

“I know. You did nothing wrong. On the contrary, it takes people years to learn to do what you just did. Most only ever manage to draw directly from the Sivlar, but you instinctively absorbed from both of us.” She explained, a thread of excitement in her voice.

“Is that bad?” Yang asked as simply as he could when what he actually wanted to ask was what the progression stages of this so-called wielding were.

“Bad? No. Many pray daily for the Sivlar to bless them so.” The woman said.

“What do I do now?” Yang asked, playing the part of a nervous child to draw out more information, just wishing for an info dump.

All this talk of Sivlar was making him realize that these people actually worshipped their local river. Everything was attributed to how the river wills it, leaving Yang to wonder if there was anything special with the river itself or if these people just blindly worshipped it because that was all they were taught.

Either way, he was fully intending on immersing himself in it. This seems like a prime place to grind for energy. Unlike the Cardwright world, which he despised, this one seemed brimming with energy; he was also lucky enough to be born in a body capable of doing this world's version of cultivation. Considering that the energy directly went into the bead, it would be immensely helpful to farm energy here to help accelerate the bead’s recovery. Maybe even help in his own cultivation down the line.

“You rest here for now.” The woman rose as she patted his cheek once more and stood up. “I will make arrangements to have you moved to the main hall so we can begin your training.”

Yang watched quietly as the woman left the room, closing the door behind her.

Unaib stood as well, adjusting Yang's blanket around him before stepping out of the room. He returned a few minutes later carrying a small tray with a steaming bowl of soup.

Setting the tray on the bedside, he helped Yang sit up and brought a wooden spoon to his lips, intending to feed Yang himself. “Take a small sip. It's hot and will help soothe your throat after the drowning.”

Yang obediently opened his mouth, taking a sip. It tasted good. It was light and refreshing and felt good as it went down his throat. It seemed to have small chunks of fish that melted as soon as they touched his tongue. Yang quickly gulped through the whole bowl.

He looked up to find the man watching him intently after setting the bowl aside. “Nahar. Don’t be afraid, okay?” The man said in a comforting voice, though from his expression it seemed like he was the one in need of comforting. “You are of the Sivlar, you are not alone, you will never be alone.” Yang winced inwardly, thinking this almost seemed like tempting fate, but just nodded.

Unaib helped Yang lie down and blew out the candles in the room, letting only the light of the setting sun enter through the window, and left, quietly closing the door behind him.

With a lack of anything to do and mentally exhausted after the action and adventure arc he had been living through in his real life, he curled up, feeling tired. While he had the soul of a cultivator, this was a mortal body, a child's, and needed rest.

He closed his eyes and within seconds, was out like a light.