Dao Eternal

Night settled over the mountains with a silence that felt unnaturally heavy.

Within the hidden cave, a small fire burned beneath a pile of carefully arranged stones. Its faint warmth drove away the mountain chill, but no one dared let the flames grow too high. Even a thin column of smoke could reveal their location.

Gu Ming sat near the entrance, grinding medicinal herbs with a smooth stone.

Lin Yue rested against the cave wall, her injured ankle wrapped in strips of clean cloth torn from her sleeve.

Ye Chen remained awake.

Sleep refused to come.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw his father's final smile.

He saw Green Willow Village swallowed by fire.

He heard the desperate screams that the wind had carried into the mountains.

A sudden voice broke the silence.

"You haven't slept."

It was Gu Ming.

Ye Chen looked toward him.

"Neither have you."

The young herbalist smiled faintly.

"People who travel the mountains learn not to trust peaceful nights."

Ye Chen studied him for a moment before asking quietly,

"You knew those riders."

Gu Ming's hand stopped moving.

"I recognized their robes."

"No."

Ye Chen shook his head.

"You were afraid of them."

The cave became silent.

Even the crackling fire seemed to grow quieter.

After several moments, Gu Ming sighed.

"You notice too much for someone your age."

"I had to."

Gu Ming looked into the fire.

"When I was younger, I worked as a servant in Azure Cloud City."

"You did?"

He nodded.

"I delivered herbs to wealthy families... and sometimes to the Azure Cloud Sect."

His expression darkened.

"The cultivators there live like immortals. To them, ordinary people are no different from ants. Some are kind. Many are indifferent."

"And the rest?"

Gu Ming looked toward the darkness outside.

"They believe that power gives them the right to decide who lives and who dies."

Ye Chen remained silent.

It was the first time someone had confirmed what the old storyteller had hinted at.

Strength alone did not create heroes.

Sometimes...

It created monsters.

Lin Yue quietly opened her eyes.

"If that's true..."

She hesitated.

"Why does no one stop them?"

Gu Ming gave a weary smile.

"Who can stop people stronger than armies?"

His words lingered in the cave long after he finished speaking.

...

Several miles away, atop a rocky ridge overlooking the valley, the seven riders from the Azure Cloud Sect had stopped for the night.

A small campfire illuminated their faces.

The younger disciples sat respectfully while the middle-aged man who led them silently brewed tea in an iron kettle.

No one dared speak first.

Finally, one disciple broke the silence.

"Elder Han."

The middle-aged man raised his eyes.

"Speak."

"We found signs of survivors."

"I know."

The disciple hesitated.

"Should we report it?"

Elder Han calmly poured tea into a small ceramic cup.

"What did you see?"

"A woman."

"A child."

"And an herbalist."

The Elder nodded.

"Nothing more?"

"No."

He lifted the cup to his lips.

"Then there is nothing to report."

The disciples exchanged confused glances.

One finally gathered enough courage to ask,

"But... weren't we sent to investigate the attack?"

Elder Han took another sip before answering.

"We were."

"Then why..."

His voice remained calm.

"The dead tell no tales."

The disciple frowned.

"But they are alive."

Elder Han looked into the fire.

"For now."

A chill spread through the camp.

None of the disciples dared ask another question.

...

Back inside the cave, Ye Chen finally drifted into a restless sleep.

He found himself standing in an endless field of white mist.

There was no sky.

No earth.

Only silence.

Far ahead stood a solitary figure dressed in simple gray robes.

The old fisherman.

He held the same bamboo fishing rod in one hand.

Without turning around, he spoke.

"Do you know why a sword is forged?"

Ye Chen frowned.

"To kill?"

The old man smiled gently.

"A child gives the answer of a child."

He slowly turned.

"A sword is forged to endure."

Before Ye Chen could respond, the old man pointed toward the mist.

The white fog slowly parted.

Countless swords appeared, thrust into the earth as far as the eye could see.

Some were broken.

Some were rusted.

A few still gleamed as though newly forged.

"Every one of these belonged to someone who believed they would change the world."

Ye Chen looked around in silence.

"Did they?"

The fisherman shook his head.

"Most changed only themselves."

He stepped closer.

"Remember this, Ye Chen."

His voice became unexpectedly solemn.

"Hatred can make a man strong."

He paused.

"But only for a while."

"What lasts far longer..."

The old man tapped Ye Chen lightly on the chest.

"...is conviction."

The mist suddenly trembled.

The countless swords disappeared.

The old fisherman faded like smoke carried away by the wind.

Ye Chen abruptly opened his eyes.

The fire had nearly burned out.

The first light of dawn crept through the entrance of the cave.

For several moments, he remained motionless.

The dream had felt impossibly real.

Almost...

Like a memory rather than an illusion.

Outside the cave, unseen by the three travelers, a lone footprint had appeared in the damp soil.

It had not been there the previous night.

Someone had found them.

And that someone had chosen...

Not to enter.