Nalan Shu entered the workshop with a calmer grace, carrying a basket filled with warm rice cakes. "Uncle, Mother says today is the celebration of the Great Harvest Festival. All the villagers are gathering in the central square. Uncle Zhao is also very hopeful that you will attend. He said that without your carts, this year’s harvest wouldn't have been completed so quickly."

  Zhi Xuan glanced toward the black wood statue he had just finished, then covered it with a tattered silk cloth. "Uncle Zhao praises me too much. I only did what needed to be done."

  "Come on, Uncle!" Nalan Yu tugged at the hem of Zhi Xuan’s robe, which now bore permanent stains of wood sap. "Oh, by the way, why did you refuse the village elder’s proposal? Sister Shu and I saw the girl—she was quite pretty! It’s such a shame she married someone else right after you turned her down!"

  Zhi Xuan was stunned for a moment, and a rare, short laugh escaped his lips—a sound like the rustling of tree branches in the evening wind. He rubbed Nalan Yu’s head, feeling the coarse texture of the boy’s hair as he neared adolescence.

  "Married?" Zhi Xuan murmured, looking toward the dull cloth covering his black wood carving. "Uncle... already has a wife in a far-off place."

  Nalan Shu and Nalan Yu exchanged looks, their eyes wide with surprise. In all the years Zhi Xuan had lived in Cangyun Village, no one had ever heard this mysterious man speak of family, let alone a wife. In the eyes of the villagers, Zhi was merely a wanderer who had decided to moor his soul among wood shavings.

  "Your wife must be very beautiful," Nalan Shu whispered, her eyes sparkling as she imagined the woman who could capture the heart of a man as still as a mountain. "Is she also a woodworker? Or perhaps a silk weaver?"

  Zhi Xuan smiled, yet his gaze seemed to pierce through the wooden walls of his workshop, traveling thousands of miles toward eternal ice peaks and fragrant pavilions. "She... is not a woodworker. She is the moon that illuminates the darkest night, and the other is the dew that purifies a dusty soul."

  "Eh? Uncle has two wives?" Nalan Yu exclaimed innocently, scratching his head. "That’s amazing! No wonder you rejected the elder’s daughter. If I had a moon and the dew, I wouldn't need anything else either!"

  Zhi Xuan only shook his head at Nalan Yu’s innocence. He took a piece of rice cake from Nalan Shu’s basket, tasting the fleeting mortal warmth that seeped into his senses. To him, this sweetness was far more real than the spiritual energy that usually flowed through his meridians.

  "Go to the village square first," Zhi Xuan said softly. "Uncle will follow shortly after tidying these tools."

  The two siblings cheered with joy and ran out, leaving behind the fragrance of rice cakes mingling with the scent of sandalwood. In their wake, silence crept back in, but this time it felt fuller.

  "Two wives... the moon and the dew," Ruo Xianxue whispered in the depths of Zhi Xuan’s consciousness. "Since when did the Southern Devil, feared by the world, become so melancholy? If the practitioners of the Black Corpse Sect heard you, they might think your soul had been swapped with a mortal scholar who failed the imperial exams."

  Zhi Xuan did not argue. He walked to the corner of the room and picked up an old wine jar filled with wild forest peach nectar. "Ruo, in this world, truth is often more beautiful when wrapped in metaphor. To those children, they are figures above the heavens. And to me... they are the anchors that keep my soul from drifting into the void of the Dao."

  He stepped out of his workshop. The sky of Cangyun Village was beginning to be adorned with paper lanterns released into the air, looking like low-hanging stars at a feast. The laughter of the villagers echoed loudly, accompanied by the thumping of skin drums beaten with spirited enthusiasm.

  When Zhi Xuan arrived at the central square, Uncle Zhao immediately greeted him, his face flushed red from the influence of the wine. "Brother Zhi! You’ve finally come! Come here, sit beside me. You must try this roasted pork from Da Zhu’s hunt!"

  Zhi Xuan sat on a bamboo mat, allowing himself to dissolve into the mortal joy. He watched Da Zhu showing off his arm muscles while turning meat over the embers, and Auntie Mei handing out dumplings to hungry children.

  He sat cross-legged, sipping the peach wine from a rough clay cup. Around him, the bustle of the harvest festival felt so warm, as if the coldness that usually enveloped a Soul Transformation practitioner had completely thawed. The light of the lanterns swaying in the night wind created golden shadows on his calm face.

  "Look at them, Brother Zhi," Uncle Zhao pointed toward the crowd of young men and women dancing around a large bonfire. "They work hard all year, betting their lives against weather and pests. But tonight, all that burden vanishes with just one bowl of wine and a shared laugh. Isn't life simple?"

  Zhi Xuan nodded slowly. "Simplicity is the most difficult form of luxury to achieve, Uncle Zhao. Humans often seek something far on the horizon, yet forget that their roots are in the soil they stand upon."

  In the corner of the field, Da Zhu shouted his name while holding up a glistening leg of pork. "Zhi! Stop talking to old Zhao! Come here and help me finish this meat, or I’ll think you’re looking down on my kill!"

  Zhi Xuan stood up, his modest grey robe draped loosely. He walked toward the crowd and accepted the piece of meat Da Zhu offered. The strong savory flavor and the heat of the licking flames provided a sensation that felt profoundly real.

  As the night grew late, the joy of the Cangyun villagers seemed to know no bounds. Nalan Shu and Nalan Yu came running toward him, carrying two bright red paper lanterns.

  "Uncle Zhi! Come fly these lanterns with us!" Nalan Yu cried, his eyes reflecting the blazing bonfire. "Mother says if we whisper a prayer before the lantern reaches the clouds, the Gods in the Heavens will hear it!"

  Zhi Xuan knelt, helping the siblings light the candles inside the lanterns. The hot air began to expand the thin paper, making it feel light and eager to take flight.

  "Uncle, what is your prayer?" Nalan Shu asked softly, looking at Zhi Xuan with curiosity.

  Zhi Xuan held the edge of the lantern, feeling the subtle vibration of the paper caught in the wind. His eyes closed for a moment. He did not ask for a higher cultivation base, nor for a divine weapon capable of shaking the universe.

  "Uncle’s prayer..." Zhi Xuan whispered, nearly inaudible amidst the festival noise. "Is for the night to remain still, and for those I care for to always have a sky to look upon."

  Together, they released the lanterns. Zhi Xuan looked up, watching the red points of light soar high, merging with the expanse of stars in the Yao Gu sky. Within his soul, the ocean of essence—usually silent—now resonated with the heartbeat of Cangyun Village.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  "You are beginning to love this dust, Zhi Xuan," Ruo Xianxue’s voice sounded clearer, like water flowing over jade. "You no longer see them as ants, but as threads in the weaving of your law."

  "Perhaps," Zhi Xuan replied in silence. "Because from this dust, all forms of life begin. Without understanding the dust, how can I ever understand the heavens?"

  After the festival ended and the villagers began to head home with staggering steps but satisfied hearts, Zhi Xuan walked back to his workshop alone. The village streets were now silent, leaving only the lingering scent of woodsmoke and the chirping of crickets.

  He entered his home but did not light the oil lamp. In the familiar darkness, he sat before the covered black wood statue. He could feel the presence of the two essences he had carved there—essences that, though made of wood, seemed to provide warmth to his simple room.

  Zhi Xuan leaned his back against the sturdy support pillar. In the dark, his sense of smell caught the aroma of sandalwood mixed with the remnant scent of rice cakes on his fingers. He did not draw breath to gather spiritual energy, but simply to taste the life he had just experienced in the village square.

  However, the peace of the night did not last long. Just as his eyelids began to close, a subtle ripple in the air—felt only by the consciousness of a high-level practitioner—touched the surface of his sealed senses. It was not a burst of spiritual essence, but a razor-thin intent, as sharp as a blade and as cold as ice, creeping from the direction of the village gate.

  Zhi Xuan opened his eyes. The deep black in his eyes momentarily flashed with a faint sapphire glow before fading back. He did not move, remaining seated against the wooden pillar, but his attention was now fully focused on footsteps too light for a mortal.

  "Oh?" Zhi Xuan murmured, closing his eyes again. "A Soul Transformation expert... why has he come here bringing his disciples?"

  Outside the window, the night mist that was once soft suddenly turned rigid, as if the air itself were reluctant to flow. The sound of footsteps stopped right in front of the door to Zhi Xuan’s woodworking shop. Not one, but three presences with highly regulated pulses—characteristic of those who walked the path of cultivation.

  "Senior, is this truly the place?" a young man’s voice whispered, thick with doubt. "This place is so squalid. The smell of livestock manure and this cheap sawdust... it's hard to believe the 'Moon-Tiger Coffin' that shook the Dawn City auction originated here."

  "You are wrong, Lin Er," a more mature voice replied, heavy and full of authority. "Master Lu would not lie. That coffin is not merely wood; there are traces of Law embedded in its fibers."

  The old wooden door creaked softly as it was pushed from the outside. Three figures appeared in the threshold, blocking the moonlight. The man in the center wore a deep blue robe with silver thread embroidery in the shape of a crane, signifying his position as an elder of a mid-tier sect in the region. On either side of him, two arrogant-looking youths held swords still encased in leather sheaths.

  Zhi Xuan remained motionless in the dark corner. He did not rise, nor did he offer a greeting. The scent of mortal peach wine still lingered on his breath, making him appear exactly like a craftsman fast asleep from post-festival exhaustion.

  "Craftsman Zhi," the elder greeted politely, offering a thin smile and a bow. "I am Xu Han, here to meet with Brother Zhi."

  Zhi Xuan did not immediately respond. He let the silence hang in the air, with only the ticking of an old wooden clock and the subtle creak of the support pillar filling the space between them. After several breaths, he slowly straightened his back, letting his grey cloth fall naturally over his shoulders.

  "The night is very late for a guest to speak of wood," Zhi Xuan’s voice sounded raspy, yet possessed a depth that made the two disciples beside Xu Han flinch for no clear reason. "My door is not closed to those who wish to order a coffin, but my heart is closed to those who come to disturb the sleep of the villagers."

  Xu Han smiled thinly and stepped inside uninvited. He waved his hand, and the fragrance of a wine jar filled the room. "Brother Zhi is too cautious. Xu only wishes to drink wine with Brother Zhi."

  At that moment, Xu Han released his late-stage Soul Transformation pressure. As he expected, Zhi Xuan did not budge an inch. Dark and white auras clashed against Xu Han’s pressure, which carried the weight of the vast ocean and clouds. The room trembled; even the disciples behind Xu Han turned pale instantly.

  Seeing this, Xu Han smiled thinly and withdrew his pressure. He stepped closer and waved his hand to levitate a chair, which he promptly sat in. "Brother Zhi, so, are you willing to drink wine together?"

  Zhi Xuan stared at the cup floating before him, then shifted his gaze to Xu Han’s face, which remained calm despite having just released a pressure capable of leveling all of Cangyun Village. In Zhi Xuan’s black eyes, there was no fear, only a deep weariness.

  He reached out, his fingers rough from wood shavings, and touched the clay cup. Without using spiritual essence to neutralize the temperature, he let the warmth of Xu Han’s wine seep into his palm.

  Zhi Xuan sipped the wine in silence. The liquid flowed down his throat like a stream of pure essence, carrying the scent of thousand-year peach blossoms that only grew on mountain peaks untouched by man. It was vastly different from Auntie Mei’s rice wine, yet on Zhi Xuan’s tongue, both now seemed to hold the same weight.

  "Good wine," Zhi Xuan said flatly, setting the cup back on the wooden table riddled with chisel marks. "However, Brother Xu, wine that is too pure sometimes tastes bland if it comes without a clear reason."

  Xu Han did not answer immediately. He swirled the cup in his hand, letting the reflection of the moon through the roof gap dance upon the wine's surface. His thin smile did not fade; instead, it deepened, creating a mysterious air difficult to read by mortal eyes or a practitioner’s consciousness.

  "A reason?" Xu Han chuckled lowly, his voice like the sigh of wind in a cliff crevice. "In this Yao Gu—sacred yet stained—everyone seeks a reason to kill, a reason for power, or a reason for eternal life. Yet rarely does anyone seek a reason to become... a piece of wood."

  Xu Han shifted his gaze toward the black wood statue covered in silk in the corner of the room. His gaze seemed capable of peeling back the cloth, piercing the layers of wood, and touching the core of karma embedded there.

  "The coffin you gave Master Lu... he does not know what he possesses," Xu Han continued, sipping his wine again. "He thinks it is merely a final harbor for his father. But I see something else. I see something that feels like someone trying to understand a Domain."

  Xu Han set his cup down with an incredibly smooth motion, not making a single sound against the rough wooden table. He looked at Zhi Xuan with a glint in his eyes, as if reading the most complex ancient manuscript in the world.

  "Weaving law amidst human dust, washing the soul with sandalwood shavings," Xu Han murmured, his voice heavy with honest admiration. "Brother Zhi, many think that to touch the peak of heaven, they must stand upon a pile of bones and treasure. But you... you drown yourself in the mud of this village. Do you not find it too... quiet here?"

  Zhi Xuan lifted his face. Under the dim moonlight, the shadows of his eyelashes fell on his cheeks, hiding the flashes of sapphire that occasionally tried to rebel against the black seal.

  "Silence is the native language of wood, Brother Xu," Zhi Xuan countered calmly, his fingers stroking the rough table surface. "The coffin you speak of is merely the form of a release. Master Lu asked for a roaring tiger, but the wood asked for peace. I am merely the spokesperson for those who cannot speak."

  Xu Han smiled thinly, an expression as if he had won a game of chess that hadn't even begun. "A spokesperson for wood? Or a spokesperson for the fate you are re-weaving? I have crossed many mountains in Yao Gu, met arrogant Weaver Transformation practitioners, yet not one of them possesses this 'dead yet alive' aura found in this workshop."

  He stood up, his silver crane robe shimmering despite the darkness. Xu Han walked slowly toward the silk-covered black wood statue, but he stopped exactly three steps in front of it, as if there were an invisible wall forbidding him from stepping further.

  "Do not worry, I will not uncover that cloth," Xu Han whispered without turning. "There is a prayer too heavy beneath that dull silk. A longing that, if released, would freeze all of Cangyun Village in a single blink."

  The two disciples behind Xu Han, Lin Er and his companion, grew increasingly restless. They did not understand this high-level conversation, yet their instincts as Divine Wheel practitioners screamed that the grey-clad man sitting calmly before them was a dragon folding its wings in a rat's nest.

  "Master, why don't we just ask about—" Lin Er tried to speak, but a small wave of Xu Han’s hand instantly silenced him, cutting off his voice in mid-air.

  "Lin Er, in front of a master weaving the law, your words are merely noise that ruins the beauty," Xu Han said in a flat but cold tone. He looked back at Zhi Xuan. "Brother Zhi, I did not come to seize your wood, nor did I come to challenge your cultivation base. I only came to ask for a small favor, as a form of respect for the peach wine you drank."