The villagers entered Redbranch cautiously. Guards at the gate, clad in iron breastplates polished to a mirror sheen, stopped them immediately, questioning their ragged appearance and the tattered remnants of spears and carts they carried. Wei Wu stepped forward, raising his hands in a gesture of peace.
"Redbranch welcomes those fleeing the Ironblood Knights," he said smoothly, though every word carried tension. "We come seeking shelter from the south. Our village has been raided."
The guards' eyes narrowed, scanning him carefully. There was something in his stance, a confidence born not of arrogance but survival, that made them hesitate. After tense moments, they allowed the group inside, warning them to stay within the town walls until they could be properly registered.
Inside the town, Wei Wu walked among the narrow streets, observing the lives of the residents. Bakers pulled warm loaves from ovens, tossing them into baskets with practiced ease. Children darted between market stalls, picking up shiny trinkets and chasing stray cats. A group of elderly men sat under the shade of a ginkgo tree, playing a strategic board game with ivory pieces, their laughter punctuating quiet debates over each move.
At the blacksmith's shop, a young apprentice struggled to lift a hammer heavier than his frame, his master guiding his movements with gentle but firm corrections. At the herbalist's stall, a woman ground powders from dried roots, her hands steady and precise, while her daughter handed small packets to eager customers. Life was small, ordinary—but the details of survival, skill, and community were everywhere.
Wei Wu felt a strange mixture of admiration and longing. Despite the chaos of the world beyond, these people carried on, shaped by tradition, necessity, and the rhythm of daily life. For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like if the village he had saved could live like this every day, safe and untroubled.
As the villagers spread out to find food and shelter, Wei Wu wandered through a quieter street on the edge of town. That's when he noticed a small boy sitting on a low stone wall, his clothes torn and dirty, hair tangled, clutching a small wooden figurine. The boy's eyes were wide, a mixture of curiosity, fear, and caution that made Wei Wu pause.
The boy's gaze met his own, and Wei Wu felt a strange pull. Someone lost… someone who needs guidance.
The system flickered faintly in his mind. Potential disciple detected. Talent unknown. Recommend observation and assessment.
Wei Wu knelt before the boy. "Hey," he said softly, careful not to startle him. "Are you alone?"
The boy hesitated, gripping the wooden figurine tighter. "My village… they… the knights…" His voice trembled, breaking into small sobs.
Wei Wu's chest tightened. Memories of helpless villagers, terrified children, and his own failures surged through him. He placed a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder. "I can protect you," he said quietly. "I can teach you… if you're willing to learn."
The boy blinked, tears streaming down his dirt-streaked face. "Teach me?"
"Yes," Wei Wu replied firmly, but gently. "Not just to survive, but to grow strong. So you never have to feel helpless again."
The boy hesitated, then nodded slowly. "I'll… try."
Wei Wu felt a flicker of satisfaction. This first connection—this first disciple—was a seed. But he also knew growth would be slow. Both he and the boy carried scars. Life in this world was harsh, and the challenges ahead would be even harsher.
Daily Life and Training
Over the next few days, Wei Wu arranged shelter for the villagers, distributing food and ensuring the children were fed and safe. The streets of Redbranch continued around them, alive with trade and chatter. He observed the townsfolk closely—the blacksmiths hammering tirelessly, merchants bartering with careful calculation, bakers balancing dozens of loaves without dropping a single one. Every action was a lesson in patience, strategy, and discipline.
In secret, Wei Wu began guiding the boy in small exercises: simple movements to improve speed, balance, and reflexes. Not cultivation yet, just the basics—stance, footwork, awareness, coordination. The boy struggled, stumbled, and sometimes cried, but he persisted. Wei Wu watched him carefully, noting the natural agility, quick intuition, and sharp mind beneath the boy's fragile exterior.
At night, when the town had settled into quiet hums of life, Wei Wu climbed the outer walls, scanning the horizon. Pine Brook was behind him, and the Ironblood Knights remained a distant threat. The weight of his responsibility pressed on him, but for the first time, he felt a spark of purpose beyond mere survival.
This is only the beginning, he thought. If I can guide him, and the others who will follow… perhaps I can finally create something lasting.
And somewhere in the quiet streets of Redbranch, a boy clutched a wooden figurine, unaware that the threads of his destiny were already entwined with the farmer who had survived death three times—and the battles yet to come.