The fire burned calmly in the middle of their camp.
After finishing their meal, the old man immediately lay down and closed his eyes. Chen Baoli sat leaning against a large rock with his eyes half-open — a resting position that remained alert.
Wuchen and Lin Xue'er sat on opposite sides of the fire.
Silence lingered for a long time.
"May I ask you something?" Lin Xue'er finally said.
"Ask away."
"What are you really looking for?" She stared into the flames. "Not in Dragon Bone Valley. I mean… overall. You left the mountain, entered the city, and got involved in all these conflicts you didn't actually need to join. You don't have a clear goal like most martial artists — you're not chasing fame, not seeking position, not demanding revenge."
Wuchen did not answer right away.
He gazed at the same fire. Its light flickered gently, following the night wind that slipped through the gaps between the trees.
"Back when I was a child," Wuchen said at last, "there was one day I remember very clearly. The day everyone in that room looked at me with the same expression."
"What expression?"
"As if I was already finished. As if a conclusion about my life could be drawn before my life had truly begun." Wuchen spoke in a tone that held no anger — only flatness, like someone recounting a fact from a sufficient distance. "No innate talent. Therefore, no future. That was their conclusion. Short, simple, and in their eyes, indisputable."
Lin Xue'er listened without interrupting.
"I don't want to prove them wrong," Wuchen continued. "That would be too small a goal. Proving something to people who no longer care is just a waste of time."
"Then?"
"I want to know how far I can go." He looked at his own hands. "Not for anyone else. Only for myself. To answer a question that no one else has ever bothered to answer — what can a person who is considered to have nothing actually achieve?"
A brief silence fell. Only the sound of the fire and the night wind remained.
"That's not a small answer," Lin Xue'er said eventually.
"It's not a grand one either."
"An honest answer," she said. "And far rarer than it should be."
Wuchen glanced at her. "You're not belittling it."
"Why should I?" Lin Xue'er finally shifted her gaze from the fire to him. "I grew up with everything a martial artist could need. Strong innate talent, a great sect, the best training. And precisely because of that… I never had a question like yours."
"That should have made you luckier, not lesser."
"Luckier, yes." There was something in her tone that didn't fully agree. "But there are things you can't obtain from everything that's already been provided — genuine curiosity. Because when the answer is already given before you even get to ask the question, the question itself never truly grows."
Wuchen pondered that.
"So you're following this strange group because you're curious."
"Partly." Lin Xue'er looked back at the fire. "The other part is because I've been walking the same prepared path for too long."
From the large rock behind them, Chen Baoli — who was supposed to be half-asleep — spoke without opening his eyes, "You two are talking too much philosophy. Sleep. Tomorrow will be long."
Wuchen and Lin Xue'er exchanged a brief glance.
Then both of them — without needing verbal agreement — chose to follow the suggestion.
Yet inside Wuchen's mind, one sentence from Lin Xue'er kept echoing.
*I've been walking the same prepared path for too long.*
Wuchen didn't know why that sentence felt heavier than anything else he had heard today.
He closed his eyes.
And tried to sleep.
— To be continued in Chapter 14 —