Chapter 3: Eight Years later in Fallen Village (1/2)

High atop a picturesque mountain, there lies a village unknown to the world.

That was the Fallen Village.

The village is home to nearly three hundred families.

As night falls, smoke curls lazily from the chimneys of each household.

Ladies in floral jackets open their courtyard gates, then raise their voices to call their children home.

"Coby!"

"Bob!! Time for dinner!"

"Kat! Come back now."

"Liam, you little rascal, get back here!"

A tall boy, Liam, pushed another boy to the ground harshly.

He cursed, "Blind boy, if I see you again, I'll beat you up!"

The boy on the ground whispered with a faint, almost imperceptible smile, "Just wait and see."

The boy, about thirteen or fourteen years old, had sharp features, a high nose bridge, and thin lips.

Dressed in gray linen clothes, his eyes were covered with a white silk band.

Just as he finished speaking, Liam's eyes flashed with malice, and then he raised his fist to strike.

But a boy stopped him, pleading, "Liam, let's go home. My mom's calling me for dinner."

After the boys left, the blind boy kicked up from the ground nimbly.

He wiped the blood from his mouth and swaggered home with his hands behind his back.

He kept sniffing the air on the way, as if he hadn't just been beaten up.

Following the scent, he leaned against a fence and called out, "Aunt Lee! Is it big day today? You even cooked a stewing hen!"

"Creak..." A slightly plump middle-aged lady came out, smiling warmly at the boy.

"Oh it's Quentin! Did you eat? Let me get you some."

"I haven't eaten yet." Quentin Lee patted his stomach dramatically and said. "Thanks for my sensitive nose, it can smell like a dog's nose. I can't stand the thought of eating Grandpa's bland diet, so I followed the scent here."

"You cheeky boy, don't talk nonsense. I have half left." The lady waved her hand quickly. "Let me get you some rice too. Take it home and share with your grandpa."

"Thank you, Aunt Lee." The boy's smile grew even wider, his voice sweet as honey. "Ah... it's a pity that you don't open a restaurant in town with your cooking skills."

The lady's eyes crinkled when she smiled, adding a few more lines to the corners of her eyes.

"You little rascal, such a sweet talker. Wait here."

Soon, a doll-like little girl came out carrying a steaming pot of stewed chicken.

Balancing the full pot carefully, her eyes widened as she focused on not spilling it.

She muttered, "Quentin Lee, are you a dog? You always show up on time when we cook something good."

Leaning against the fence, Quentin Lee couldn't help but say, "Sue, who will marry you to have such a perfect wife and mother?"

Sue Meng's face turned red as she struggled to lift the pot onto the fence.

She rolled her eyes at Quentin and ran back inside, but then remembered Quentin couldn't see her, she tilted her head and scolded, "You rogue!"

Quentin laughed heartily, but when he turned around, he paused to bow slightly in embarrassment. "Uh... Hi, Uncle Meng."

The man in front of Quentin didn't say a word, just kicked him in his butt.

"Stop teasing my daughter. You're almost at the age to join a sect, yet you still act like a child." He scolded, laughing. "Leave now! "

Quentin chuckled, nodding quickly, "Sure thing, uncle Meng! I'll bring you some baijiu tomorrow!"

Winding through the village, he finally arrived at an isolated yard.

Pushing the door open, he spoke softly, "Grandpa? I'm back."

At the door, an old man smoking a pipe brightened up.

He flashed to the front of Quentin, and quickly grabbed a piece of chicken, stuffed it into his mouth, squinting with pleasure.

Smacking his lips, the old man said, "Meng's wife has the best cooking skill indeed."

Quentin set down the pot, swaying slightly.

The old man glared at him, scolding, "You haven't enlighten your inner eye for long! You used it like that? You little brat should practice the wooden dummy training a hundred times more today!"

"Grandpa, are you serious?" Quentin's face fell, muttering, "A hundred times more, means three hundred times today. I'll be practicing till midnight."

Seeing the old man pull out a black scabbard, Quentin wisely shut his mouth.

The old and the young squatted at the threshold, eating together.

While eating, the boy asked, "Grandpa, why do you always tell me not to fight back?"

The old man spat out a bone and slapped Quentin on the head, making him stagger.