Chapter 4 – Suspicions in the Village

A steady drizzle still clung to the morning as Lan Zhuoran made his way through Baihe's muddy main street. In the early hours, most villagers were busy checking for storm damage or repairing fences battered by the gale. Despite the mild sense of relief that the worst of the downpour had stopped, an undercurrent of unease ran through their whispered conversations.

Lan Zhuoran noticed clusters of people exchanging worried glances as he passed. A few nodded politely to him, but most seemed preoccupied with salvaging their soaked belongings. At the far end of the street stood a small communal well, where a handful of neighbors gathered around a wizened woman carrying a bamboo staff: Elder Shui.

"Zhuoran," Elder Shui greeted the moment she spotted him. Her voice carried a no-nonsense authority that belied her bent figure. She must have been in her mid-sixties, her hair long gone silver, yet her eyes missed nothing. The group around her fell silent, shifting their attention to him.

He bowed respectfully. "Elder Shui, good morning. The storm didn't spare much, did it?"

She shook her head, leaning on her staff. "A nasty one indeed. We'll be patching roofs for days. I've heard rumor there was an injured traveler at your home last night. Is that true?"

The question hung in the clammy air. Lan Zhuoran felt a prickle at the back of his neck, uncertain how much to reveal. Yet Baihe was a small village; secrets rarely stayed hidden for long. "Yes, we found her outside during the storm. She was hurt, so we took her in."

Elder Shui pursed her lips in thought. Behind her, some of the villagers exchanged uneasy glances. "Bad timing for travelers," she remarked. "Did she say anything about who she is or why she's here?"

Lan Zhuoran hesitated. He was not inclined to lie, but neither did he wish to expose Yin Feiyan's predicament. "She was delirious. We don't know much," he answered carefully. "But it looked like she'd been attacked."

A murmur rippled through the gathered villagers. Storms were dangerous, but bandits or brigands were another matter entirely. Baihe had avoided large-scale conflicts for generations, partly because of its remote location, partly through luck.

Elder Shui rapped her staff lightly on the ground, drawing attention back to her. "We should keep watch. If there are marauders roaming the area, the entire village could be at risk." She paused, regarding Lan Zhuoran with a measuring gaze. "Make sure your guest is stable. We'll post a night watch in case trouble finds its way here."

He nodded, grateful she didn't push further. "I understand. I'll let you know if anything changes."

Leaving Elder Shui and the others to their repairs, Lan Zhuoran walked toward the small patch of farmland on the village's western edge. He needed to gather some vegetables for Madam Qiu, but also needed a moment to think. The wet earth squelched underfoot, and droplets glistened on broad leaves of cabbage and spinach.

As he bent to cut a few leaves, his thoughts circled back to Yin Feiyan's warning: that the artifact in her possession was dangerous if seized by the wrong hands. If her pursuers arrived, Baihe's peaceful existence would be shattered. He could imagine armed men kicking down doors, threatening villagers for information. A knot tightened in his stomach at the thought.

He recalled nights spent with his father, practicing basic cultivation stances under lantern light. Back then, he believed martial arts were more about discipline and heritage than real danger. Now, he realized just how naive that assumption had been. If Yin Feiyan's plight was as dire as she claimed, a confrontation might be unavoidable. And the village had only a handful of people with even rudimentary combat training—himself included.

A rustling sound snapped him out of his reverie. He looked up to see Old Man Liu, the caretaker of these fields, approaching with a concerned expression. "Heard a strange rumor," Old Man Liu said. "Something about an outsider lying half-dead in your place. That true?"

Lan Zhuoran forced a polite smile, trying not to reveal his anxiety. "We did shelter someone," he admitted. "She was in bad shape. But we're managing."

Old Man Liu frowned, glancing at the muddy track that led back to the village center. "I suppose it's good of you to help," he said slowly. "But you mark my words: outsiders bring trouble. Always have, always will. Keep your guard up, lad."

Lan Zhuoran nodded, not entirely disagreeing. "Thanks for the advice," he replied. "I'll keep that in mind."

With an armful of vegetables, he headed back to the house. The drizzle subsided, but a cold wind picked up, sending chills through his damp clothes. Inside, the atmosphere felt no less tense: Yin Feiyan now sat propped against the wall, cradling her bandaged arm, while Madam Qiu heated water for tea.

"I spoke to Elder Shui," Lan Zhuoran announced, setting the vegetables down. "She's planning to organize a night watch. She suspects bandits might be on the prowl."

Yin Feiyan's eyes darkened, and her hand drifted reflexively toward the wrapped artifact. "It's more than bandits," she said softly, her voice brimming with an undercurrent of remorse. "Even if the villagers keep watch, they won't be prepared for the men—or forces—hunting me."

Madam Qiu's lips thinned, and she clasped her hands in front of her apron. "Baihe is peaceful. That's our blessing and our curse. If they truly come in force… we may not be able to fend them off."

An uneasy hush fell over the room. For the first time, Lan Zhuoran felt the weight of responsibility pressing on him. He was no great master, just a young man who had never tested his skill in real combat. Yet something in Yin Feiyan's expression—an odd mixture of steely resolve and guilt—kindled his protective instincts.

"If they come," he said, meeting her gaze, "I'll do what I can to keep them at bay. But maybe it won't come to that. Perhaps we can plan your departure before they ever find you."

Yin Feiyan lowered her eyes. "I have to reach the capital. Only there can I fulfill my mentor's final request."

Though her statement offered no new detail, Lan Zhuoran sensed her desperation. The capital was at least several weeks' journey, especially for someone wounded and being hunted. Yet a spark of determination flickered in his own chest. Maybe he could help her, at least part of the way. He had always dreamed of seeing the empire's wonders, training at real martial academies, testing his father's Five-Winds Form against genuine opponents. Was this not a chance to do all that—and protect his home in the process?

A sudden knock at the door broke the tension. A muffled voice called from outside: "Lan Zhuoran? Elder Shui would like to speak with you. Urgent matter."

Madam Qiu's eyes widened, and Yin Feiyan tensed. Lan Zhuoran quickly slid open the door to reveal a teen boy with tousled hair and a grim expression. "They found footprints down by the creek," the boy said, panting. "Signs that a group passed near the village perimeter last night, possibly during the storm."

Lan Zhuoran clenched his jaw. "A group? Armed?"

The boy shrugged helplessly. "We're not sure. Elder Shui wants you to come see for yourself."

His heart pounded. If Yin Feiyan's pursuers were already circling Baihe, time was dangerously short. He glanced back at her, noticing how her knuckles turned white as she clutched the relic. "I'll go see what's happening," he said aloud, though privately he wondered how they would keep the village safe—and how soon they needed to leave.

Madam Qiu pressed a steaming cup of tea into his hands, which he hastily set aside. There was no time for calmness now. Outside, the morning light revealed a village perched on the brink of an unfolding crisis. Lan Zhuoran inhaled, then stepped out the door, ready or not. The path he walked next would shape not only his own fate, but perhaps that of Baihe Village and, in ways yet unknown, the empire beyond.