13 The Wish-Granting Star; May You Be Blessed
In the darkness, a series of faint light penetrated the night and lit the small village up with dim radiance. The ringing silence engulfed the village like a flame, only laughter that sounded every now and then broke the still.
A group of men, ranging from twenties to thirties of age sat together in a shelter. Five brownish pillars propped up the weary roof, twelve seatings surrounded a stone table. From the shelter, fragrance of wine spread out to the corners of the village, the wind carried the pleasant yet intoxicating scent away.
The night-guards downed cups after cups of the wine, laughed and talked animatedly. One of them promptly stood up and held up the cup, before drinking it at once and started a new conversation. "So, the seer and that girl, the ones who lived in that hut. I believe you all know them, but only at the tip of the iceberg."
"Other than the seer and the child's ability to see the unseen, we don't know anything."
"Really? I thought the seer came from a faraway country where wars are abundant. About the girl, I'm not sure." Another man added.
The first man poured himself another cup, "I heard from the merchants, the girl was an ill-fated orphan, the bane of her mother and the bird of ill omen in her old village."
Hearing the sentence, the night-guards' shoulders tensed up. Silence followed closely.
Finally, a man spoke up with a tone of worry, "If the child is indeed a bad omen, shouldn't we cast her away?"
At the words, almost everyone present agreed, nodding their heads thoughtfully.
A pair of sharp eyes watched the night-guards interacted from far. The lady soundlessly sat down by the window and took out writing utensils. Back slightly hunched indicated her old age. Her wrinkly fingers, dipped in cinnabar, moved shakily on the yellow paper, spreading the cinnabar as she muttered prayers. The old lady proceeded to continue scribbling, in short time a stack had been finished.
The night was long, and bothersome. The animals' screeches and calls could be heard louder than the nights before. However, other than that, there was no much difference for the night.
Two hours passed peacefully, without any trouble. The night-guards had emptied the wine bottle, patrolling around the village. The old lady finished another stack, adding a number to the dozen stacks of seal papers.
The third hour, it was different.
A flash of light crossed the clouded pitch-black sky at the north. Following it, a loud booming sound.
The sound woke the village, shook the ground. People rushed out from their houses to find out what commotion had happened—yet unknown to them, they were the ones who caused a commotion.
"What was that loud sound?"
"It was like something big hit the ground!"
"Or that weird resonance sound of ascension!"
The last comment made everyone turned their heads to the person, whose face reddened at realization.
The chief being bewildered, had no time to wonder. He cleared his throat to gain people's attention and stated, "Whatever may happen, I believe it's best if we ask Xian Jian Zhe. Please calm down."
As though she was aware that her name was said, the old lady stepped out from her hut unhurriedly. Her presence promptly silenced the folk. Then, she raised her head to meet a swirl of blue and yellow lights in the sky, which went unnoticed by the others.
"Xian Jian Zhe!" A group of impatient youths approached her and bowed. Few of them were the night-guards from before, mind filled with curiosity.
The lady interjected them, "A god had descended to bless us. We shall see him."
And thus, the village sent a group to follow the aurora to where the god was.
•
Cold, hurt, drowning—
A short second after the attempt, only three things Yang YueChen vividly remember.
The gusts of water pushed his body farther and farther. His eyesight failed him, before he slipped into unconsciousness.
'Yuan....Ji?'
'Where's... A-Ji?'
•
Following the swirl of blue and yellow, they reached the Xuan Tian mountain. The rays of blue illuminated their way into the cave, where a young boy laid on the shore of a spring, his figure radiated a divinely aura. He was unmoving, as though he had already died.
The boy had odd complexion; pale, ashen, lightly tanned—somewhat olive skinned. He wore clothes that people had never seen before. His wet black hair stuck to his face, his bangs failed to cover the small black mark on his forehead.
Upon seeing that mark, the lady immediately knew.
On closer look, the boy had a fine appearance, handsome and youthful, yet calm and sharp-witted face. However countless grazes and patches of bruises littered his skin. The rise and fall of his chest, although so faint it could be missed, indicated that he was still alive.
The lady commanded the youths to take care of the boy, before turning around to face the mouth of the cave.
The clouds had dispersed, revealing a dazzling full moon. Its radiance seeped through the woods and the cave.
From the depth of the spring, laid a sword. Long and thin, made of iron, waited for someone to reclaim it.
