Upon returning to the village, the deaf blacksmith repaired the hole in Lạc Trần's heart.
That evening, in the communal house at the village center, the villagers held a feast to celebrate their uneventful trip to the market.
The limbless tavern owner opened a jar of wine he had aged for over a decade, declaring it a celebration of the village of Sickos finally having teenager among them.
The butcher, always boisterous but a lightweight, was easily provoked by the limping man into a drinking contest. After just three cups, he was sprawled on the floor, unconscious.
The village weaver, once an old woman who constantly bickered with the blind man, now in her childlike form, surprisingly got along well with the carpenter. They played rock-paper-scissors, each claiming to lose and downing their drinks. Their scheme was uncovered when the bald man caught wind and chased them around, revealing the antics of the blind man and the silent maiden.
The mad physician had returned to the village and was engrossed in a heated discussion with the deaf man. The village chief referred to their corner as the "world of geniuses," incomprehensible to ordinary folk.
The village chief officially welcomed Lam Tường Vi as a member of the village of Sickos and named the wolf pup Mr. Garlic. The pup seemed displeased with the name, barking loudly until Mr. Onion approached and whispered something into its ear, calming it down.
Mr. Onion, taking on the role of a leader, quickly accepted Mr. Garlic as his subordinate. Mr. Garlic, recognizing Mr. Onion's strength, felt reassured to have someone backing him in the village and looked at Lạc Trần with a challenging gaze.
Lạc Trần, observing Mr. Onion and recalling his penchant for getting into trouble, silently mourned for Mr. Garlic.
That night, everyone slept in the communal house.
---The separator line is late for work again---
Morning...
Lạc Trần was awakened by Lam Tường Vi's gentle shaking.
She had changed into the plain clothes made by the village's mute weaver. Her hair, once matted and dirty, now flowed smoothly over her shoulders.
At her waist hung a doll with 'Lam Đỗ Quyên' sewn on its belly, now cleaned, though still stained, but no longer emitting a foul odor.
"Sir, someone is here to see you," she said.
"Someone to see me? Who?" Lạc Trần asked, frowning.
Since being cast into the Dry Sea over a month ago, he had only befriended Lam Tường Vi, not counting the villagers at the Village of Sickos.
Who else could it be?
It couldn't be someone from his past in Aparagodānī. After all, the Cloudspike Sect wouldn't publicize the disgraceful act of extracting his heart and celestial meridians. Especially since he held the "secret to resisting darkness," a fact even he couldn't recall how he survived.
From the sect's perspective, declaring him dead would be most beneficial. If others knew he was here, how would they divide the Dry Sea?
"Who is it? Could it be a scam?" he asked, taking a towel from Lam Tường Vi.
"It's not. Sir, why are you so suspicious all of a sudden? It's the friend you mentioned before - the saintess from Floral Valley," she replied, urging him.
"Tô Mạc Tà? Why is she here? And how does she know I'm here?"
"Ah, why ask me? Go out and see for yourself," she said, looking at him as if he were foolish.
Sometimes, Lạc Trần couldn't tell if she was perceptive or just naive.
On the ox-legged litter, Lam Tường Vi had been sharp and sensitive. Now, she seemed oblivious to his reluctance to meet Tô Mạc Tà.
Seemed like he couldn't understand how girls work, at all.
Lam Tường Vi added, "You must have just woken up. I won't call you silly!"
"..." he sighed.
---the separator line had to apologize to it partner due to the morning incident---
At the entrance of the village of Sickos stood a young woman in a snow-white dress, a wooden hairpin adorning her head, and small bronze bells tied to her wrists. Her waist-length hair was styled in a waterfall braid, exuding a gentle femininity.
Her features were delicate and balanced - not the kind of beauty that stunned at first glance, but the more one looked, the more pleasant she appeared. Her eyes, bright and clear, resembled deep lakes reflecting starlight.
This was Tô Mạc Tà.
"Chief, your profound knowledge impresses me. The Dry Sea's truly a place where dragons and tigers go into retirement; even an ordinary village harbors someone of your caliber," she said with a warm smile.
Her voice was as soothing as sunlight, her breath carrying a subtle lotus fragrance.
Had someone else spoken such words, they might have seemed insincere or flattering. But from Tô Mạc Tà, they felt genuine and heartfelt.
Moreover, she wasn't merely being polite.
Though her words were somewhat exaggerated, her brief conversation with the village chief had astonished her.
The old man seemed like a walking fossil, possessing knowledge of secrets from previous eras. Though she hadn't uncovered any major secrets, a few minutes of conversation had yielded more than years of her own research.
The village chief chuckled, "You're too kind, saintess. I'm just an old man who refuses to die. This is the era of the young."
He paused, then added, "The person you're waiting for has arrived."
Tô Mạc Tà looked toward the village and saw a thin young man limping toward the gate, a leather strap across his chest, seemingly protecting something.
He appeared haggard, his face gaunt, his aura weak - a stark contrast to the carefree genius of the Cloudspike Sect she remembered.
Taking a deep breath, Tô Mạc Tà bowed, "Brother Lạc, it's been a while."
"Greetings, saintess. May I ask how you found me?" Lạc Trần replied, nodding, getting straight to the point.
Tô Mạc Tà covered her mouth, laughing, "Brother Lạc, you've already adopted the village's straightforward manner of speaking."
She paused, then continued, "Forgive me for concealing my source. As a cultivator, such matters are sensitive. But rest assured, I swear that only I know this path. Even the Everwatchers are unaware."
She thought to herself, I won't tell him I dreamed of him.
In her dream, Lạc Trần clutched his empty chest, carrying the endless darkness of the Dry Sea, arriving at a village named Sickos.
"If you prefer not to say, so be it. May I ask why you've come all this way to find a cripple like me?" he inquired.
"Crippled or not, you're still my friend. Our bond from Godfell Ridge isn't tied to cultivation or talent," she said, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.
"I've come to deliver an invitation. In three months, it's my birthday and the Flower Appreciation Festival at Floral Valley. I hope you'll attend and share a drink. Little Tathāgata and Skinny Hoàng will be there too - just the four of us."
"Skinny Hoàng" referred to Hoàng Cường, that senior disciple of Skeletal Mountain who somehow became a pacifist.
Lạc Trần smiled wryly, "You're joking. I'm an exile in the Dry Sea, expelled from the Cloudspike Sect. How could I show up at Floral Valley? I'd like to live a few more years."
"I understand, which is why the invitation is addressed to 'Lạc Trần of the village of Sickos,' with no mention of the Cloudspike Sect," she replied, as if anticipating his refusal.
"But..."
"Rest assured, Brother Lạc. You're my guest. Anyone who dares harm you will be declaring war on Floral Valley," she said, preemptively countering his objections.
Brother Lạc is so flustered - how adorable, she thought, awaiting his next excuse.
As Lạc Trần struggled to find another reason to decline, a voice called out from behind:
"Go ahead and go! Are we, the village of Sickos, afraid of some petty tricks from outsiders?"
Startled.
Shocked.
Speechless.
Confused.
These were Lạc Trần's feelings at that moment.
The speaker was none other than the blind man.
Not only had that shut-in of a man left his woodworking shop, but he had also come all the way to the village gate.