The sky above Hanboia Holm had turned a softer gray, as if even the clouds were tired.
Fan He and Mo Zhenyu walked in silence across the uneven wooden planks that stitched the village together. Every creak beneath their steps whispered of weathered lives and forgotten promises.
Mo Zhenyu finally broke the silence.
"You didn't say anything about the Exiled ship we encountered near the Holm. I suppose the person you mentioned has the solution?"
Fan He's steps slowed slightly.
"The person I mentioned…" he began, voice tight, "is Chief Yubo's son. And was my father's closest friend."
Mo Zhenyu glanced at him but said nothing.
Fan He continued, his tone brittle. "He was the pride of the Holm—awakened a three-star constellation, the highest anyone here had ever seen. He was accepted into the Rising Star Temple, rose through the ranks, became a Deacon... and then vanished."
He exhaled harshly. "Cut contact. Never sent a letter. Too ashamed of where he came from. Too prideful to acknowledge his humble roots"
Zhenyu said nothing, letting the words hang.
Fan He's voice turned colder. "When I awakened my constellation, my father reached out—begged him to take me as a disciple. Thinking years for friendship and familiarity would count for him?" He laughed bitterly. "But that white-eye wolf demanded my mother in exchange For a single basic cultivation technique."
Mo Zhenyu's jaw clenched slightly.
"That day, my father took his boat and left for the sea in a storm. Only the boat came back months later."
For a while, all that followed were the soft slaps of bare feet on old wood.
"I learned cultivation the only way I could," Fan He muttered. "Through merchants. Bartered, begged, exchanged old fishing charts for dusty manuals. Got swindled a dozen times. But I clawed together something that worked. Enough to keep the Holm breathing and my family steady."
Mo Zhenyu finally spoke. "And now…"
"The exiled. They don't need to dock long because of the restriction. Just minutes," Fan He replied. "It is long enough to burn a home. Kill a family and take everything."
"How long before they reach us?"
"A week. Maybe two. Depends on how fast they fix their hull."
Mo Zhenyu nodded.
"That greedy bastard will come. He wouldn't miss a chance to impress his temple and garner merit"
Fan He stopped walking. Turned his head slightly.
Mo Zhenyu looked at him. "Are you doing this for the Holm... or for revenge?"
Fan He's eyes met his—a stare that said everything and nothing at once.
Zhenyu didn't press.
They continued toward the far end of the Holm, where the lights grew dimmer and the air heavier.
At the very edge, surrounded by brackish water and silent shadows, stood a tiny wooden house, slumped like a tired fisherman after a long storm. Its roof was warped. One shutter hung loose. A single oil lamp flickered through a cracked window.
"Fan Lin! Fan Lin—" Fan He called as they approached.
A small girl stepped out.
She couldn't have been older than ten. Her body was frail, her limbs thin as driftwood. Yet her eyes—dark, clear, and too wise for her age—met theirs without fear.
She wore a tattered dress, patched with mismatched cloth, and her bare feet were lined with old scars. But she stood straight. Her back unbent. Her chin high.
"Keep your voice down," she said sharply. "Mom just fell asleep. After another coughing fit."
Fan He softened immediately. He stepped forward and ruffled her hair. "You're frowning again. You'll get wrinkles."
"I'm ten," she said flatly.
"What did the doctor say?"
"That we need to leave this hellhole if she wants to survive," she replied without hesitation.
Fan He frowned. "Don't listen to that quack. We can build a good life here. Just like we did with Dad."
Her eyes flashed.
"Dad is not coming back!" she snapped. "Unless the two of you wake up from your delusions, we'll all end up just like him!"
"Fan Lin—!"
He raised his hand.
Mo Zhenyu stepped forward slightly. Just enough to remind him he wasn't alone.
Fan He froze mid-motion. Then slowly let his arm drop.
"I made a big catch," he said quietly. "We can live better now. We don't have to turn our backs like he did."
Fan Lin exhaled, biting her lip. Then her gaze fell on Mo Zhenyu—piercing and cold.
She said nothing.
She turned and walked past them, vanishing into the night without another word.
Fan He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Sorry you had to see that."
"No need," Mo Zhenyu replied simply.
"There's not much room," Fan He said after a moment. "The attic's where I sleep. It's drafty, but clean. The merchant ship will come next week—when it does, you can board and head for the mainland."
"Thank you," Zhenyu said.
Without another word, he sprang up the side wall, fingers finding the grooves in the wood as if he'd done it a hundred times. In a blink, he disappeared onto the roof.
The stars were out in full force now.
He settled into a meditative posture atop the shingles, eyes closed, chest rising with slow, controlled breaths. Astral energy shimmered faintly around him, drawn to the quiet gravity of his presence.
Inside his body, his organs slowly mended. His reserves began to recover. The silent sky shimmered with constellations, and under the protection of the Heavenly eye, his aura was shielded from probing.