"Brother!"
"..."
Jiu Xian stared at the river.
"Don't cry. He is Gu Yunsheng, born of luck. He must still be alive."
"You shut your trap! You cur! It's all because of yo—"
Veins popped on Jiu Xian's head, his fist clenched up.
'What am I even doing?
Bing Mei'ren... Immortality... Cultivation... Spirit herbs... wandering around like a headless ghost... putting my life in danger...
Is it even worth it?'
He reeled is fist back, launching it toward him. The tall man cowered and backed away until something solid stopped him.
THUNK!
CRACK!!
The punch hit. Splinters flew off. A warm liquid dripped from Jiu Xian's hand. His breathing turned heavy.
"Y—You madman."
Jiu Xian inspected the tree he hit. A deep hole was carved in its trunk, nectar dripping down, splinters lying on the ground. Had he not changed the direction of his punch... he would have committed the first murder of his life.
'The stress in finally breaking me down... I feel like I'm losing control'
Then he looked at his hand, opening and closing it repeatedly. It was bloody, but the pain could not compare to the amount of blood, even his bones seemed unbroken.
"Y—you punched a hole in a tree? P—please hand me over to the vigilantes already. I—I don't feel safe with you." Tears streamed down the man's face, mucus filled his nose.
The man seemed mentally broken... but not more than Jiu Xian himself.
Jiu Xian was also tired of the man, so he complied, continuing the interrupted march.
In the distance, earthen walls stood tall, guarding a timber gate. People gathered before it, their shouts blending into indistinguishable chaos.
"Did something happen here?"
"Huh? Oh. Yes, the bridge near our village collapsed."
Jiu Xian's eyes widened.
"How did you find out? I didn't see anyone along the way."
"We heard the sound..."
The villager sighed.
"The prophet had prophesied it, but like always, we didn't heed his words... now we suffer.
"He's a lunatic; not a prophet." Another man refuted the villager. The latter ignored him, staring Jiu Xian in the eyes.
"Are you coming from that way? And what's with that man tied in the ropes."
His question pulled the villagers attention. The chaos died out, everyone tuned their eyes toward him.
Sweat beaded on Jiu Xian's forehead. He quickly explained, telling the villagers his story; about the thieves; about the fool born of luck and the eventual collapse of the bridge.
He was soon granted entry in the village.
Inside, Jiu Xian handed the man over to the vigilantes along with their looted money, informing what he learned from his interrogation the previous night.
Wandering through the village, the weight of coins in his pouch lessened as his bundle of supply grew heavier.
'A prophet?'
Anyone with half a brain could figure out that the bridge would eventually collapse with time, but for some reason, Jiu Xian still felt unsettled.
If it was before, then he would have denied the story. But how could he deny it now, he himself was chasing immortality... No matter how small the chances, it wouldn't hurt to visit this prophet.
"THE EYE WILL APPEAR!!! THE SKY WILL TEAR OPEN ONCE MORE!!! IT WILL NOT STOP TILL IT GETS WHAT IT WANTS."
A loud voice pulled Jiu Xian away from his thought, he turned towards it.
"hAHa! Mom! Look, the lunatic's at it again." The child tugged at his mother's finger.
"Shh! Didn't I tell you? Don't badmouth others.
"NO-ONE!! NO-ONE WILL SURVIVE!"
"Ha! Someone shut his mouth."
An elderly man stood atop a small wooden crate, villagers gathered around him—enjoying the fiasco.
The debacle continued till the village chief personally came and had the senile old man escorted off by the vigilantes.
Jiu Xian stealthily followed the vigilantes, all the way. They finally dropped the old man off in front of a hut at the outskirts of the village.
"NOO! YOU HAVE TO BELIEVE ME!!! THE EYE IS REAL!!!" The old man's voice turned hoarse.
"When will you stop old man? You are a burden to the village."
Hiding behind a tree, Jiu Xian heard the hurling insults as they left. Then, a quiet sobbing reached his ears.
"Why does no one believe me?"
"I believe you." Jiu Xian stepped out.
"You do?"
"Yes... tell me about the eye."
The old man's eyes lit up, his lips widened from ear to ear. Once the old man got started, there was no stopping him. He whined for hours, repeating the same words in circles... like a bell echoing the same note long after it had been struck.
It was not a matter of belief. Even if he wished to believe, he could not—for the man's story held no substance.
'Another bust'
"I will keep your words in my heart. Now I must depart." Jiu Xian left the hut and reached the bridge, only to remember it had collapsed. The fatigue had gotten to his mind now.
He turned around and shuddered. The old man was right behind him.
"It is destiny. The eye will come for us. We will die—that is our fate."
He glared at the old man. Even his patience had its limit, his fists almost clenched up.
'Destiny... fate...' he had come to hate these words by now.
He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath; the smell of nature filling his nose.
He ignored the old man, took one last glance at the bridge, then left. Even if the path was long, he would tread it; than wait for the bridge to be rebuilt by someone else.
To him, the lack of sleep or his deteriorating mind didn't matter. There was only one thought in his mind—
Cultivation
And no one would stop him from achieving that; Not the broken bridge, not the fairy, not the gods.
For her, he would fight the heavens.
"That's right! Carve your own path..." A soft voice reached his ear, stopping him in his tracks.
The old man had transformed. His eyes were no longer dull. His voice carried a sense of power, his back straight.
"They will come. The only way to win is to follow your own path."
'Yup...must be an illusion. He's truly insane.'
"Thanks, Jiu Xian." The old man bowed to him.
Jiu Xian's eyes widened. He never told the old man his name.