Chapter -20 A new day
Even without his master, Lin Haoran's life did not halt.
The sun rose as it always did, peeking gently through the misty mountains, bathing the courtyard in hues of gold and silver. Lin Haoran stepped out of the shed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, his breath forming faint clouds in the crisp mountain air.
His breakfast was simple—some leftover wild rabbit meat he had roasted two days ago, a handful of dried berries, and a flatbread he had managed to bake using flour scavenged from Chun Yijun's storage. The food wasn't anything special, but it filled the belly and warmed the heart.
After breakfast, Lin Haoran stood in the open courtyard facing the mountains. He bowed deeply toward the tombstone of his master, paying quiet respect, then took his stance.
His martial training began like clockwork.
The air around him swirled faintly as his body moved—each stance sharp, each strike filled with precision and rhythm. His muscles remembered every motion his master had drilled into him, and though Chun Yijun was no longer there to correct him, Lin Haoran imagined his voice at his side, murmuring tips, laughing quietly at mistakes, praising quiet improvements.
After the basic martial form practice, he transitioned into something much more taxing—training with the Invisible Hand of God.
It was a strange thing, this ability. Telekinetic, yet divine in feeling. He focused his will, channeling the power, lifting a large rock into the air, then tossing it, catching it mid-flight, manipulating its trajectory. Each day, he tried lifting heavier objects, faster, smoother. He could now manage over 1000kg without faltering—though at that weight, controlling it with finesse was quite a challenge.
Then came the Primordial Eye of Chaos.
He sat cross-legged, centering his breath. His eyes opened slowly, and with a soft hum in the air, reality seemed to ripple. Through his very own eyes, the world twisted and unraveled—colors shifted, outlines trembled, and hidden patterns came into view. Each time he used it, he felt something twist inside his head—not painfully, but with a stretching sensation, as if his mind were being pulled open to accommodate something vast.
This was something he had notice a long time back.
Despite not allocating any stat points to [Mind], his mental strength had been steadily rising.
He had begun to resist fatigue better, retain more knowledge, stay focused for longer hours.
At first, he thought it a privilege granted to reincarnators an that his mental strength were naturally stonger—but eventually, he understood: his abilities were changing him.
The Eye, especially, demanded alot of mental strength to wield. And in response to this, his mind—was adapting, Evolving to meet this requirement.
It was an unexpected side-effect, yes, but not an unwanted one.
---
In the afternoons, he explored the surrounding forest, bow slung on his back and a satchel in hand. He would gather wild herbs, hunt small prey, and take note of strange phenomena spotted using his Astral Vision. He wasn't actively seeking trouble, but he liked to be prepared.
Sometimes, if the day was especially quiet, he would climb one of the taller peaks nearby and simply sit, overlooking the entire range, watching clouds roll lazily across the sky. He'd hum old melodies his master used to sing—songs about heroes, wandering swordsmen, and endless skies.
It was peaceful.
---
One evening, as the sky turned to shades of peach and lavender, Lin Haoran sat by a fire, flipping through an old satchel left behind by Chun Yijun. Inside, carefully folded and sealed, was a martial note—handwritten, yellowed slightly with age.
It was a personal document from his master, left specifically for him.
The note contained outlines—the outline of the next stages of 'Mountain tiger fist' , containing the corresponding cultivation techique of Martial Grandmaster and even Great Grandmaster. Of course None of it was complete, and many segments were cryptic or vague, But with his current mental strength which also corresponds to comprehensive ability , Lin haoran felt that he could manage it somehow.
Haoran smiled softly as he read through it, fingers brushing the calligraphy strokes. His master had written this while knowing he wouldn't be there to explain it in person.
"Che," Lin Haoran muttered under his breath. "Old man really thought of everything."
---
As the days passed, the martial artists who had chosen to stay behind to help the village slowly began to depart.
Lin Haoran didn't stop them.
He saw them off with quiet nods and warm food if he had extra to spare. Some of them tried to convince him to leave the mountain and join a sect, or return to the world, but he would always shake his head with a smile.
The final group—three warriors who had helped repair houses, guard the perimeter, and bury the dead—departed on a day with golden skies and soft winds. Lin Haoran stood at the edge of the path leading down the mountain, waving at their retreating backs.
"Take care out there," he called.
The last one turned back to salute him, then vanished into the forest path.
Haoran stood there for a while, arms folded, the sunset painting the clouds in streaks of red and orange.
For the first time in weeks, the mountain was quiet.
Truly quiet.
He let out a deep breath, then turned toward the shed, his home now. The wind rustled the leaves, and birds chirped in the trees above.
The world goes on.