Surprisingly, when I woke the next morning, I didn't feel the usual weight pressing down on my chest. Accepting what had happened had helped. For the first time since the rift, my thoughts weren't just noise. I had a direction now.
Find out more about cultivation. Test my stats. Complete the quest. Figure out what the system can really do. And maybe—just maybe—find a way home.
The room was quiet. I pushed off the thin mat and stretched, sore muscles pulling tight but not painfully so. Somehow, the sleep had helped more than I expected.
Wei Lin was already up, kneeling beside his mother. He dabbed her forehead with a damp cloth, speaking in a voice too soft to catch. The look on his face told me everything. I gave them space and stepped outside.
The early morning air was cool against my skin. The sun hung low behind the trees, casting long shadows over the rice paddies. Everything was bathed in gold, like the world hadn't quite decided whether to wake up yet.
I turned at the sound of footsteps.
Wei Lin joined me with a tired smile. He still favored his bad leg, the limp more noticeable with each step, but he didn't mention it. Just handed me a worn straw hat and gestured toward the fields.
"Come," he said. "If you're going to help, you need to learn."
We started simple. How to walk between the rows without stepping into the water, how to check the rice stalks, how to use a dull blade to clear invasive grasses.
"Hold here," he said, adjusting my grip on the wooden handle of the sickle. "You want clean cuts, or the roots stay and come back stronger."
I nodded, repeated the motion. He grunted in approval.
Something about using my hands—doing something so straightforward—helped. It gave me space to think without being drowned in thought.
"Why live so far out from the village?" I asked during a break. He handed me a gourd of water.
"My father's father settled here. Been passed down since." He wiped sweat from his brow.
"What's the town like?"
He shrugged. "Small. Not that I've seen anything bigger. It's got what you need. But most folks think I'm strange for staying out here. Especially after…" He trailed off, then shook his head. "Doesn't matter. I prefer the quiet."
I didn't push.
Instead, I looked out over the fields, at the small house behind us, at the curl of smoke rising from the cooking fire.
The next few days passed in a blur of quiet labor.
Working the fields turned out to be easier than I expected. Monotonous, sure, but not difficult. The rhythm helped—the rustle of wind over rice, the splash of boots in muddy water, the occasional chatter with Wei Lin. The bruises from the bobcat faded, replaced by a steady ache in muscles unused to this kind of work.
By the third day, I felt mostly back to normal. Or… as normal as I could be, all things considered.
That morning, as I stacked bundles of cut stalks beside the paddies, Wei Lin straightened with a grunt, rubbing at his leg.
"We need to head into town," he said. "Out of salt and Ma's medicine. And we'll need more rice seed before the next rotation."
I perked up.
Fallen Mist was just a name so far—something I'd heard about but hadn't seen beyond a blur on the horizon. "Sounds good," I said, brushing mud from my sleeves. "Lead the way."
It was about a thirty minute walk along a worn dirt path, winding between farmland, groves of old trees, and the occasional ox-drawn cart. Wei Lin nodded to everyone we passed, exchanging polite greetings. Most looked at me with a mix of curiosity and caution, but no one said anything.
Then the village came into view.
Fallen Mist wasn't big, but it looked cozy. Dozens of squat stone houses with thatched roofs lined both sides of a wide, dusty road. Children chased each other between buildings with reeds and sticks. Older villagers worked stalls, repaired wagons, or moved about with baskets slung over their shoulders.
To the left, I saw an herbalist shop with bundles of drying roots hanging from its awning.
Further ahead stood a larger building, slightly elevated on carved stone steps.
"That's the sect hall," Wei Lin said, noticing where I was looking. "The Fallen Mist Sect has a small outpost here. They oversee things. Keep order. Collect taxes."
I raised an eyebrow. "They strong?"
"Compared to normal folk?" He nodded. "Plenty. But this is just a rural branch. The real power's further inland, closer to the Whispering Basin."
I took that in quietly as we walked deeper into the village. "What's that supposed to be?"
Wei Lin glanced at me. "Sorry, I forgot. The Whispering Basin's where all the cultivators gather—far from us mortal folk."
We kept walking.
It felt strange, moving through a crowd of people who had no idea what a rift was. None of them knew Earth even existed. And yet… here they were, going about their lives like I was the one who didn't belong.
I guess I was.
Still, the air smelled like fresh bread, smoke, and faint incense. The wind was warm. And for a moment, I was happy.
We followed the street, Wei Lin nodding to a few people as we passed. A couple of young women waved shyly in his direction, clearly flustered. I gave him a look. He really wasn't all that.
He noticed and grinned. "It's not all about the looks, Brother Fang." He raised his eyebrows like an idiot.
I let out a short laugh. "Clearly."
We reached the general store. Wei Lin stepped inside first. The old woman behind the counter barely looked up before launching into what sounded like a well-practiced routine. They bartered—sort of—but it was obvious they knew each other. Most of it was friendly banter.
After picking up a few essentials, we made the rounds. One stop took us to a herbalist squeezed between two buildings that looked ready to collapse.
Inside, Wei Lin emptied his pouch onto the counter. The woman behind it counted the coins, then handed him a small packet wrapped in paper.
"This'll last a week," she said, voice flat. "No more handouts, Wei Lin. You're going to need to start paying full price or I won't be able to help you. Sorry boy."
"I understand," he said, bowing his head.
Back on the road, he let out a heavy sigh and adjusted the strap on his bag.
"That was the last of it," he muttered. "Everything I had."
I glanced over. "The medicine?"
He nodded. "For my mother. Her coughing's worse again."
We fell into step, following the dirt path toward the village gate—where a low murmur cut through the usual quiet.
A small crowd had gathered near the entrance. Voices hushed, faces tight with shock and anger. A few even looked… entertained. Like they were watching a show.
Wei Lin sighed. "Damn it. We have to go out that way, too."
We edged around the crowd. People shifted just enough to let us see.
A man stood tall in the center of a loose half-circle. He wore black and silver robes that shimmered faintly in the sun, embroidered with the symbol of a lotus twisted into a spiral—the same one I'd seen on banners around town. His face was sharp, his expression smug.
Blood dripped from his knuckles.
He pulled a white cloth from his robes and wiped them slowly, deliberately. The red spread fast, but he didn't seem to care.
At his feet lay an old man, crumpled and unmoving. A vendor, judging by the overturned cart and scattered vegetables. His face was a swollen mess. One arm was twisted at a sickening angle.
I stepped forward, heat rising in my chest.
Then the cultivator spoke.
"Let this be a lesson," he said, voice clear and cold. "Mortals should know their place. The Fallen Mist Sect protects this village. You sleep safely in your beds because we allow it."
He looked down at the old man, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "And yet you dare speak back? Next time, I won't be so lenient."
I clenched my fists. Took another step.
Wei Lin grabbed my arm.
"Don't," he whispered. "Are you mad?"
I turned to him. "He nearly killed that man."
"And he could kill you," Wei Lin said, his voice low and sharp. "Just for talking back. That's a cultivator. You raise your voice, you die."
I bit down hard. My jaw ached, but I didn't move. Even though I really, really wanted to.
The cultivator turned on his heel and walked off, his robe fluttering behind him. The crowd parted silently, heads bowed, eyes averted. No one helped the old man.
Not until the cultivator disappeared down the road toward the mountain.
Then, slowly, a few villagers stepped forward. One crouched beside the vendor, checking if he was still breathing.
Wei Lin tugged at my sleeve.
We walked home in silence.
I didn't say a word.
All I could think, was still, I'm too powerless.