Despite the cold front Liam always seemed to wear, unshaken even from the very first time he stepped into this modest home, in the end, kindness still found its way through.
Over and over again, whether subtly or silently, it showed.
He didn't need her to say anything.
Not this time.
He already understood what she wanted to voice, the gratitude hanging on her lips.
But there was no need for words. He had long since repaid Fu's kindness once before, this time, he simply chose to act on his own.
Perhaps out of grief of losing his friend?
Perhaps pity towards this woman?
A mortal...
Liam doesn't know why, he was confused himself, especially the last few sentences Old Fu muttered at the street, in the middle of the night before he left...
Liam saw... himself... alone, weak, helpless.
But he also saw something that he doesn't have... determination, the emotions called love, affection, and the will to do anything for someone else.
...
Strange...
...
Then came the sound of hurried footsteps from the back.
The daughter burst into the room, a ceramic bowl clutched in both hands, water nearly spilling with each uneven step.
But the moment her eyes landed on her mother, her mother, who now sat upright, no longer pale and breathless, everything stopped.
The bowl slipped from her grip, crashing to the wooden floor with a loud shatter.
Tears broke instantly, spilling down her cheeks as she sprinted forward.
"Mother?!"
"Is this real?!"
The woman opened her arms, smiling through her own tears, catching her daughter in a trembling embrace.
"Yes, Honey… Yes, it's real," she whispered, voice cracking.
Her arms wrapped around the girl tightly, as if afraid she'd vanish otherwise.
Liam stood off to the side, quiet.
He watched the scene for only a moment, just enough.
Then he turned away.
"Girl."
His voice rolled out, low and calm, instantly drawing their attention. T
he warmth in the room paused.
The mother and daughter looked up at him, eyes wide, the daughter scrambling down from the bed to bow in thanks.
But before her knees could hit the floor, Liam raised a hand.
With a gentle flick of his fingers, the girl's body froze in place, not in fear, but by some unseen force that kept her standing.
"No need for that," Liam said softly. His gaze flicked toward her, unreadable. "When the time comes… you can come to me. I'll shelter you under my name."
"You are now an immortal cultivator, the path ahead is long and... lonely. I hope you will preserve through everything and anything."
His voice lingered, neither boastful nor grand.
Just a simple statement, yet one that carried weight beyond her understanding.
The little girl, clueless to what Liam was saying, tried to say anything more, but Liam paid her no mind.
Then, without waiting for a reply, he vanished.
One blink, and he was gone.
Only silence remained, aside from the daughter's staggered breathing.
She stood in place, confused, the meaning of his words lost on her youthful mind.
But even in her confusion, her instincts pressed her to bow again and again in the direction he'd disappeared from, her voice whispering out thank-yous through broken sobs.
Her mother, on the other hand, stood still.
She understood.
She stared at the empty space Liam had left behind, her smile faint and slightly bitter, eyes filled with both warmth and sorrow.
That offer... she knew what it meant. A blessing most would never even dream to receive.
But she didn't need more.
She had time now, time to live, time to laugh, time to hold her daughter in her arms and watch her grow.
Until that day...
The day where she, a mortal, will leave this world.
That was more than enough.
A gift.
One that few ever get to grasp.
The girl eventually returned to her mother's side, crawling up and hugging her tightly once more, her face buried in her mother's shoulder.
Tears still flowed.
Glistening and stubborn.
"Once I grow up, I'll become a powerful immortal, Mother!"
Her voice trembled.
"And I'll find a way to make Mother into an immortal too!"
The woman froze, stunned, staring down at her daughter's messy hair. For a second, she didn't know what to say.
Then a gentle smile found its way to her lips.
She raised her hand and softly stroked her daughter's head.
"I believe you can do it. And no matter what happens… I'll always love you."
Snap.
The world cut away.
Liam reappeared inside his quiet home, beside the tranquil pond in his courtyard.
The moon hung high, its reflection shimmering across the still water, matching the depth of his distant gaze.
He stood with his hands behind his back, shoulders square, posture composed but his eyes… they held the weight of confusion in his own thoughts.
Then, the thoughts turned in slow, quiet waves.
"My bad habits again," he murmured under his breath.
A wry chuckle nearly escaped, but it stayed lodged in his throat.
"I guess I really am a loner, huh…"
His fingers clenched together behind him, knuckles tightening as memories surfaced.
"But back when I needed kindness the most…" he whispered, "no one was there to help me."
"I guess, I am just jealous of my current self, of what I was before, not having the luxury of self."
The reflection in the pond shimmered faintly, disturbed by a passing breeze.
Darkness gently fell across the land once more.
The moonlight stretched over the rooftops.
And the tale of the lonely immortal carried on, beneath the quiet hush of the night
---
Days slipped into weeks, and weeks quietly stretched into months.
Liam's plan had been unfolding without a hitch.
With his puppets stationed close to Ilya at all times, he remained in the loop.
That 'special' person had started appearing more frequently around her in recent weeks.
From what Liam observed, the man had steadily been showing every trait Liam had quietly hoped for in a potential first target.
Cautious.
Wary.
Decisive.
Clear-minded.
Most importantly, he didn't seem like someone who'd lose his footing easily to emotion.
As for his so-called special abilities, Liam neither knew nor cared.
Because once anything stepped into his domain, into the reach of his divine mind, it became no more than an insect.
Small. Fragile. Easy to crush.
Then, one day, a single instruction rippled out through his puppets.
'It's time for a performance.'
Swoosh.
The world shifted.
The perspective dove from the sky, sweeping down across the wide stretch of wilderness until it zeroed in on a moving group.
Their figures were cutting through the terrain at speed, and soon, the view landed on one of the people leading at the front.
A man in a black and white robe, his long dark hair drifting lightly behind him, his jawline sharp, and his features refined.
Lucien.
And beside him, moving at a steady pace, was Ilya.
Lucien's movements were smooth, refined to the level of someone who had long mastered a top-tier body movement technique to expertise.
He wasn't running, and yet his speed was far beyond what a normal cultivator at the same level could hope to match.
Then, without turning his head much, he cast a sideways glance.
That woman...
She was keeping up with him, seamlessly. Not even slightly behind.
That alone should've been enough to make him take her more seriously, but it wasn't what truly unsettled him.
His eyes quietly shifted to the other two figures walking close behind her.
Their pace was calm, almost too relaxed.
Their presence felt intentionally muffled, but even with their auras suppressed, he could still sense it.
They weren't ordinary.
Lucien's expression didn't change, but his thoughts turned.
Those two... they're Foundation Building cultivators. There's no mistake about it.
His gaze flicked toward Ilya, stealing a quick glance from the corner of his eye.
'Having two Foundation Building experts tailing her like silent guards... her background might be a lot more complicated than I first imagined.'
But that was as far as his thoughts dared go.
He didn't ask questions.
Didn't dig deeper.
Some things were better left untouched, for his safety, and for whatever future he wanted to secure for himself.
Soon after, Lucien began leading the group through a winding path within the forest.
His movements were unpredictable, the direction constantly changing, almost as if he were trying to lose them.
But the woman followed calmly, not missing a beat.
She picked up on the pattern and adjusted accordingly.
Eventually, the trees gave way, and they arrived.
Before them lay a crater, massive and still. A deep, open bowl gouged into the land.
Just by a glance, it stretched more than half a kilometre wide and sunk nearly a hundred meters deep.
The group came to a quiet stop at the edge.
Ilya slowly pushed back her hood, revealing the face hidden beneath.
It was striking.
Sharp yet graceful, with an expression that didn't show much emotion but still pulled the eye.
This time, however, her hair was no longer its usual colour.
It had changed, now a deep green, glowing faintly like a glowing forest under starlight.
The hue made her presence stand out, like fire blooming in the dark.
In a way, her special constitution was rather weird, changing her hair colour from time to time.
She looked around, her expression unreadable. The two cloaked guards stood idle, not saying a word.
Lucien scanned the scene quickly, his posture calm.
"So, this is where the treasure you mentioned is?" she asked.
"Yes," Lucien nodded, one arm folded across his chest while the other lifted to support his chin, his fingers tapping lightly in thought. "About a week ago, there were whispers. Someone claimed they'd found a crater deep in the wilderness, heading in this direction, not too far from our city."
"This should be the place"