Dao Eternal

The news reached the Black Wolf Fortress before sunrise.

A raven descended onto the balcony of the highest tower, its leg carrying a bamboo tube sealed with black wax.

The black-robed man broke the seal without haste.

He read the message only once.

Then the parchment dissolved into gray ash between his fingers.

"So..."

he murmured.

"The farmer's son has stepped onto the cultivation path."

He turned toward the darkness behind him.

"Summon Iron Fang."

A massive figure emerged from the shadows.

His face was scarred, and a jagged blade rested across his back.

"Leader."

"Send men to watch Azure Cloud Mountain."

Iron Fang frowned.

"Should we eliminate the boy now?"

The black-robed man slowly shook his head.

"No."

"If he dies today..."

"Someone will investigate."

He walked to the edge of the balcony, overlooking the endless forest below.

"Let him grow."

"I want to know why Azure Cloud Sect values an ordinary child."

His eyes narrowed.

"And if he truly possesses value..."

A cold smile appeared.

"...we shall decide whether to break him..."

"...or use him."

---

Life on Azure Cloud Mountain continued peacefully.

Weeks turned into months.

The excitement of becoming disciples gradually faded, replaced by endless routines.

Meditation.

Training.

Scripture.

Manual labor.

Many disciples began to complain.

Some secretly skipped meditation.

Others searched for shortcuts.

Ye Chen did neither.

Each morning, before anyone else awoke, he climbed a small hill behind the disciple quarters.

He would sit beneath a lone pine tree and watch the sunrise in silence.

No cultivation technique instructed him to do so.

He simply found clarity there.

---

One morning, Zhao Feng approached quietly.

"You've been coming here every day."

Ye Chen opened his eyes.

"Senior Brother."

Zhao Feng looked toward the rising sun.

"Why meditate here?"

"The mountain is quiet."

Zhao Feng smiled faintly.

"The mountain is quiet everywhere."

Ye Chen thought for a moment.

"Not here."

He pointed toward the valley below.

"From this place..."

"I can hear the river."

"The wind."

"The birds."

"They remind me that cultivation isn't separate from the world."

Zhao Feng remained silent.

Finally, he nodded.

"You've understood something many overlook."

He turned to leave.

"Just remember."

"The world also contains hatred, greed, and ambition."

"Do not ignore those voices."

---

That afternoon, the disciples gathered for practical training.

Today was different.

Instead of meditation, wooden weapons had been placed upon the training grounds.

Zhao Feng stood before them.

"A cultivator who only meditates..."

"...will die to the first bandit with a knife."

The disciples exchanged nervous glances.

"You will learn the basics of combat."

Ye Chen selected a plain wooden sword.

Its weight felt unfamiliar.

He had never held a real weapon.

Only his father's farming knife.

Pairs were formed.

When Ye Chen's turn came, he faced a broad-shouldered disciple named Han Lei.

Han Lei smiled confidently.

"I've trained with the sword since I was six."

Ye Chen simply bowed.

The wooden gong sounded.

Han Lei attacked immediately.

His strikes were quick and well-practiced.

Ye Chen retreated calmly.

He did not attempt to block every attack.

Instead, he remembered the physician's lessons.

Observe.

Breathe.

Do not chase the battle.

Han Lei swung again.

Ye Chen stepped aside by the smallest margin.

Again.

And again.

The spectators frowned.

"Why isn't he attacking?"

Zhao Feng watched silently.

Then...

Han Lei became impatient.

His strikes grew faster.

More powerful.

Less controlled.

Ye Chen saw it.

One step.

One opening.

He moved.

Instead of striking Han Lei, he tapped the younger disciple's wrist with the flat of the wooden sword.

The sudden loss of balance caused Han Lei's weapon to fly from his hand.

It landed several feet away.

Silence filled the training ground.

The match had ended.

Han Lei stared at his empty hand in disbelief.

Ye Chen lowered his sword.

"Thank you."

Han Lei looked at him for a long moment before laughing.

"I lost."

He bowed sincerely.

"But I learned something."

Ye Chen returned the bow.

"So did I."

Watching from the sidelines, Zhao Feng hid a faint smile.

The boy still lacked refined techniques.

But his instincts...

Were exceptional.

---

That evening, Elder Han received an unexpected visitor.

It was the old groundskeeper who swept the disciple courtyards.

Or at least...

That was how everyone knew him.

Inside Elder Han's residence, the old man no longer carried a broom.

His posture straightened.

His ordinary appearance seemed to vanish.

Even the air around him felt subtly different.

"You've been observing the boy."

Elder Han poured him a cup of tea.

The old man accepted it.

"He still carries kindness."

"Yes."

"But kindness alone is fragile."

The groundskeeper nodded.

"So is a seed."

He looked toward the window, where distant lights from the disciple quarters flickered beneath the night sky.

"Yet given enough years..."

"...a seed may split mountains."

Elder Han smiled.

"You speak as though you've witnessed such things before."

The old man merely sipped his tea.

"I have."

Before Elder Han could ask another question, a disciple hurried into the courtyard and knelt.

"Elder!"

"What is it?"

"A merchant caravan was attacked at the foot of the mountain."

"No survivors?"

The disciple hesitated.

"There was one."

"He kept repeating the same words before losing consciousness."

"What words?"

The disciple swallowed.

"'The Black Wolves are hunting a child.'"

The teacup in Elder Han's hand stopped halfway to his lips.

Outside, thunder rumbled across the distant mountains despite the clear night sky.

The shadows surrounding Ye Chen were no longer waiting.

They had begun to move.