Heaven and Earth are but a traveler's inn for all beings; Time, a fleeting guest through the ages.
Life is a dream, how much joy can one truly grasp?
The morning sun rose slowly, casting soft rays of light across the earth. The sky was clear, adorned with feather-like cirrus clouds that unfurled across the firmament. As the sunlight glimmered faintly, a tinge of orange-red hue emerged, painting the distant sky with a dreamlike glow.
From a roadside inn by the official highway, light smoke curled into the sky. The barking of dogs echoed—mongrels raised by the innkeeper romped playfully at the roadside, tails wagging as they darted back and forth, brimming with the raw vitality of life.
But it wasn't long before the rhythmic pounding of hooves thundered from the distance. At the far end of the highway, dust billowed into the air as a group of fine steeds galloped forth. Atop them rode several burly men in embroidered robes, faces stern, speeding past like the wind.
As they approached, the dogs whimpered and scrambled to the sides of the road, clearing the way. The wind of the horses' charge howled as the riders vanished into the distance.
The ground quivered with their passing, making the already dilapidated inn tremble faintly, wooden beams creaking as if on the verge of collapse.
As the dust at the inn's entrance began to settle, the dogs wagged their tails and ambled back, sniffing the air curiously before barking toward a particular direction.
Through the haze, a lone figure gradually approached from afar. Drawn by the barking, the innkeeper squinted toward the road. With a swift motion, he kicked one of the noisier dogs and called out:
"Traveler, stopping in for a bite or looking to stay?"
An elderly man in a coarse tunic held a tobacco pipe, his face lined with years but lit with a genial smile. His voice, though aged, carried warmth as he addressed the silver-haired youth approaching.
The old man's keen eyes scanned the young man briefly—decades of running an inn had taught him to recognize uncommon bearing, and this youth was no ordinary traveler.
"Bring me a pot of your finest wine. And something good to eat."
The silver-haired youth entered the inn, unfazed by its shabby interior. He chose a seat by the wall and settled in, glancing out the nearby window toward a small vegetable garden not far from the inn.
Bathed in morning light, the garden's vegetables still glistened with dew. The sunlight refracted through the droplets, making them twinkle like gemstones—radiant and captivating.
"Your wine, sir!"
A young attendant in a blue cloth vest arrived with a pot of clear liquor, setting it gently on the table with a polite smile. His gaze lingered for a brief moment on the youth's silver hair, but he said nothing and quickly withdrew.
The youth didn't seem to mind. He picked up the wine pot, poured himself a cup, and downed it in a single smooth motion.
The wine was clean, its subtle fragrance lingering in the mouth. The youth remained calm, quietly watching the world beyond the window as he drank.
"It's time to meet that old devil Wang Lin."
The words were spoken softly after the last drop of wine was gone. Yet none within the inn seemed to notice or hear.
At the doorway, the innkeeper continued watching passing travelers. The attendant returned to the kitchen, for it was rare to have early morning drinkers.
"Coming through, sir! Here's your—"
As the attendant returned with a plate of braised beef and some side dishes, he found the seat by the window empty. The silver-haired youth had vanished without a trace.
On the table lay a single golden leaf.
The attendant stared, stunned.
...
Half a month later, Fourth-Rank Cultivation Nation.
In a secluded corner of the capital, shops lined both sides of a wide avenue. Owing to its remote location, few visited this area, and the road remained quiet and sparse.
Tap… tap… tap…
Footsteps echoed as a silver-haired youth slowly walked down the avenue. A quiet nobility radiated from him, compelling pedestrians to step aside and cast discreet glances.
Across from a smithy, a tiger-eyed boy noticed the youth and, his face lighting up with a clever glint, ran forward.
"Mister, would you like to buy a wood carving? There's a man here who makes the best carvings—almost like they're alive!"
The boy's youthful voice was bright and eager. The youth looked down, his gaze calm. Then, with a soft chuckle, he replied:
"Very well. Lead the way."
The boy's eyes lit up with joy. He quickly took the lead, guiding the youth across the street to a modest shop opposite the smithy. There was no obvious signage—were it not for a few visible wood carvings behind the half-closed door, no one would suspect it to be a place of business.
Creak.
With practiced ease, the boy pushed open the door and respectfully gestured the youth inside. His eyes scanned the room and spotted a figure quietly working on a sculpture.
"Uncle Wang, there's a customer!"
Then, lowering his voice with a conspiratorial wink, he added, "Don't charge too much this time!"
The white-clad man chuckled silently and completed the final stroke of his carving. He placed the finished piece to the side and slowly looked toward the doorway where the silver-haired youth stood.
Just one glance made the man's brows rise. His gaze swept over the youth, attempting to pierce through—but found only mist.
"What fine craftsmanship."
The youth casually picked up a carving of a drum and bell beast. Closing his eyes, he could feel the fierce beast's presence within—it was as though he were truly standing before such a creature.
The man in white remained silent, but a trace of gloom passed through his eyes. He couldn't see through this man. His divine sense swept out, but all it found was an unfathomable haze.
"Of course it is," piped up the boy named Huzi, face full of pride. "These are the best wood carvings in the capital. You won't find better anywhere!"
"Huzi, we're out of wine. Go fetch another pot for me."
The man in white, still watching the youth, gave the order casually. At once, Huzi's cheerful face fell. He glanced at the man with slight displeasure but relented after a stern look.
"Alright, Uncle Wang. I'll be back."
With that, he scampered away toward the smithy across the street.
The youth watched the boy go, a slight smile on his lips. "An amusing child."
But as he turned his gaze back, his eyes met those of the man in white—Wang Lin.
In that silent exchange, something unspoken passed between them.
"You would agree, wouldn't you… Wang Lin?"
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