Fisherman's Song at Dusk

The night was like the center of a lake.

Chen Qing woke up from the cold.

He suddenly opened his eyes, his vision filled with a low thatched roof, starlight peeking through the gaps. The air was thick with the smell of fish, herbs, and a... faint scent of blood.

He struggled to sit up, using the moonlight filtering through the broken window to see the tattered burlap covering him. It seemed the host family had given him their only blanket for warmth.

Just as he tried to stand, a wave of tinnitus washed over him, and he felt dizzy.

Fragmented memories in his mind barely pieced themselves together: monstrous waves, churning lake water, blinding blue light tearing through the sky, meteors falling like rain...

For a moment, Chen Qing couldn't tell if he had been reborn or reincarnated.

"Creak—"

The wooden door creaked open, and a hunched figure entered with a pottery bowl. It was the old fisherman who had saved him, whom everyone in the village called Uncle Po. He walked with a limp, his right leg dragging on the ground.

"Awake?" He handed over the bowl. "Drink this. The King of Hell didn't take you, and the lake demon couldn't, you're tough."

The bowl contained a murky medicinal soup, with a few blue petals Chen Qing had never seen before floating in it, emitting a peculiar bitter fragrance.

Chen Qing took it, his fingertips touching the warmth of the bowl, but his gaze involuntarily fell upon his outstretched left palm.

A clear burn mark was visible on his palm.

Its shape was strange, like a star-shaped scar.

Last night, as he sank to the bottom of the icy lake, in the last moments before his consciousness faded, he had desperately clutched a fragment emitting a scorching blue light.

The fragment was scalding hot, almost melting his soul, followed by tearing pain and darkness. Now the fragment was gone, leaving only this bizarre brand.

He instinctively touched the star-shaped mark, but felt nothing.

"Uncle... where is this?" Chen Qing asked, his voice dry and questioning.

Uncle Po sat down by the earthen stove, adding some dry grass to the fire. The flames leaped, illuminating his aged face.

"It's incredibly strange! A once-in-a-century star rain, it made Falling Star Lake boil like a pot! The thunder rumbled as if the sky was collapsing, the waves rose several feet high, and several old willow trees on the shore were snapped!" He shook his head. "The villagers all say it's the dragon at the bottom of the lake that's turned over."

His cloudy eyes glanced at Chen Qing. "You're a lucky kid. You were swept ashore by the waves, covered in blood, and still holding onto half a broken fishing net. See, it's hanging over there."

Chen Qing followed his gaze to a tattered fishing net hanging on the wall.

"Thank you for saving my life, Uncle," Chen Qing said softly, downing the bitter medicinal soup in one gulp. A warm current flowed down his throat, slightly dispelling the chill in his body.

"No need to thank me. I couldn't just let you feed the fish when I saw you," Uncle Po waved his hand. "Rest easy. The injury looks bad, but it hasn't damaged your bones. It's just..." He paused, his cloudy gaze sweeping over Chen Qing's face. "You, young man, don't look like an ordinary farmer. In last night's situation, an ordinary person would have already been offered to the Dragon King."

Chen Qing's heart tightened, but he forced a weak smile. "I'm just a worthless kid. Heaven's too lazy to take me."

For the next few days, Chen Qing stayed in Uncle Po's dilapidated lakeside hut.

The wound on his shoulder healed at an astonishing speed under the application of a fragrant blue herb that Uncle Po had gathered, leaving barely a trace.

Uncle Po marveled, attributing it to his family's ancestral herbs.

Only Chen Qing knew that whenever he tried to regulate his breathing according to a vague memory in his mind late at night, the star-shaped mark on his palm would heat up slightly, and a pure, warm current would flow to the wound, accelerating its healing.

This discovery filled him with surprise and uncertainty.

He also began to observe this unfamiliar world.

Most villagers were fishermen, dressed in coarse cloth tunics, speaking with heavy accents.

They revered Falling Star Lake, calling it the "Demon Lake," and after the star rain, a sense of panic spread through the village.

The water from the old well at the east end had inexplicably turned a faint blue; Wang the widow's chickens and ducks had become restless overnight, pecking several to death; and some even claimed to have heard a muffled "heartbeat" sound from the bottom of the lake at night.

This was definitely not the world he knew. It was somewhat like a wuxia or xianxia world from novels.

He had "accidentally" seen a traveler who was said to have practiced martial arts for a few days. The strong man punched a millstone-sized bluestone, and the stone cracked! The onlookers exclaimed, "Such internal strength!" Chen Qing had clearly seen that as the man punched, his fist seemed to be covered with a very faint, flowing layer of energy. The man only said he was a Westflow Martial Artist.

And above him were second-rate masters, first-rate masters, and even pseudo-grandmasters.

This revolutionary realization made him aware of the abnormality of this world.

To repay Uncle Po, once his injuries had improved, Chen Qing went with him to fish on the lake.

Falling Star Lake was vast, its waters deep. Especially after the star rain, faint blue lights occasionally flickered in the depths of the lake, disappearing in an instant.

Chen Qing's fishing skills were rusty, but he possessed a strange perception.

He could "feel" the direction of the fish schools underwater, and even vaguely "see" certain areas at the bottom of the lake emitting unusual energy fluctuations—this was undoubtedly another change brought about by the star-shaped mark on his palm.

That morning, a thin mist shrouded the lake surface. Chen Qing and Uncle Po were rowing their dilapidated small boat in the shallows, casting their nets.

Chen Qing's mind stirred, and he tried to channel a faint trace of energy, drawn from the star-shaped mark, silently into the lake water through his fingertips. He wanted to see if he could drive the fish into the net.

The effect was beyond his expectations.

It was as if a pebble had been thrown into the calm lake surface. From his fingertips, a ripple, almost invisible to the naked eye, spread outwards.

Immediately after, several silver-scaled, flashing carp seemed to be driven by something, frantically bumping into their fishing net!

"Hey! That's amazing!" Uncle Po reacted quickly, pulling up the net. Looking at the lively catch, especially a strange fish with blue scales, he grinned from ear to ear. "Chen kid, you're a lucky star! We haven't seen a 'Star-Spotted Carp' with blue scales like this for years! They say fish touched by starlight can ward off evil!"

Chen Qing forced a smile, fine beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

The seemingly simple act just now had felt like it had drained all the energy he had accumulated over the past month.

At noon, they returned to the simple fish market on the shore with their catch. The smell of fish mingled with sweat and voices, filling the bustling marketplace.

Chen Qing's "Star-Spotted Carp" drew many curious glances.

Just as Uncle Po was haggling with someone, three men with open shirts and ruffian-like expressions pushed their way over. The one in front, with a scarred face, kicked over a nearby vendor's fish basket.

"Old Po, good catch today, huh?" the scarred man said, his eyes greedily fixed on the most conspicuous blue-scaled fish. "This 'demon fish' looks evil. Selling it here, aren't you afraid of bringing trouble? I'll take it off your hands for you, consider it a good deed!" He reached out to grab it.

Uncle Po's expression changed, and he instinctively shielded the basket. "Master Scar, this... this is for medicine money..."

"Get lost!" The scarred man shoved him impatiently. Uncle Po, already unsteady on his feet, stumbled backward.

Chen Qing's pupils constricted, and a nameless anger mixed with the strange energy within him surged instantly.

He instinctively took a step forward. Just as the scarred man's hand was about to touch the fish basket, his right middle finger flicked out like lightning. His target wasn't the man, but the blade of the rusty saber at the man's waist!

"Clink!"

A faint crisp sound, drowned out by the noise of the market.

The scarred man felt a tremendous force coming from his waist, forcing him back several steps.

He looked down in astonishment. The tip of his heavy saber had vanished, a small section gone! The break was smooth as a mirror, as if instantly severed by some divine weapon!

"You... what the hell are you doing?!" the scarred man exclaimed, both shocked and furious, glaring at Chen Qing. Chen Qing remained expressionless, merely helping the shaken Uncle Po to his feet.

Someone nearby with sharp eyes pointed at the iron filings on the ground and shouted, "Hey! Master Scar, your saber is too brittle! It chipped on its own, didn't it?"

"Exactly, exactly! Just a piece of cast iron, useless!" the onlookers chuckled.

No one had seen Chen Qing's movement, and no one believed the slender-looking young man had done it.

The scarred man's face turned red amidst the laughter. He glanced suspiciously at his broken saber tip, then at the calm Chen Qing. In the end, he just considered himself unlucky, cursed, and pushed his way out of the crowd with his men.

"Chen kid, you..." Uncle Po looked at Chen Qing with complex eyes.

"It was a coincidence. Master Scar's saber was probably already cracked," Chen Qing said dismissively, bending down to pick up the broken saber tip. It felt cold and heavy in his hand.

Only he knew that in that instant, what condensed at his fingertip wasn't inner energy, but a wisp of energy from the star mark, carrying a cold, tearing sensation.

This energy was incredibly powerful. Just a trace had nearly exhausted the energy he had just recovered.

Power. A strange and dangerous power. In this bizarre world where everyone seemed to have "inner energy," was this power a shield or a harbinger of death?

As evening approached, the setting sun dyed Falling Star Lake a bloody hue. Suddenly, a piercing cry and children's screams echoed from the village entrance!

"Little Stone! Little Stone fell into the lake!"

Chen Qing and Uncle Po rushed to the lake upon hearing the cries. They saw several women on the shore pointing at the churning water about twenty yards away, weeping.

A child's head bobbed on the surface for a moment before being submerged again by a wave! Several strong young men on the shore were frantically stomping their feet, but no one dared to enter the deep water, which had just experienced Star Rain and was rumored to be home to a dragon.

No time to think! Chen Qing's gaze sharpened, and the faint energy within him was forcefully activated again. He stomped hard on the ground, his body shooting out like an arrow released from a bowstring. But instead of jumping into the water, he stepped onto a large, withered yellow reed leaf floating on the surface near the shore!

"Is he crazy?!" someone on the shore exclaimed.

Chen Qing's foot landed on the soft reed leaf. The leaf only sank slightly and didn't capsize! He rapidly alternated his steps, each one landing precisely on floating fallen leaves and broken branches!

His figure moved across the blood-red lake surface in a few leaps, like a swallow skimming over water.

"Swallow... Swallow Gate! Is that Swallow Gate's supreme lightness skill, 'Treading Waves Flying Swallow'?!" an experienced old boatman exclaimed, his eyes filled with shock.

Chen Qing couldn't afford to be distracted. Each moment of using the leaves for leverage consumed immense mental energy and that strange power.

He reached the spot where the child had gone under and, without hesitation, plunged into the lake. The lake water was dark and murky, but guided by that strange sensation, he quickly located the sinking figure, grabbed him, and forcefully kicked off the water, heading upward.

When he returned to the shore, dripping wet and holding the choking, unconscious child, he was met with dead silence, which then erupted into joyous cheers of relief.

The child's mother rushed over, embraced her son, and repeatedly kowtowed to Chen Qing. Countless eyes focused on him, filled with reverence, gratitude, curiosity, and disbelief...

Chen Qing panted, water dripping from his hair.

He quietly clenched his left fist. The excessive use of the energy within him had left him somewhat weak.

Chen Qing avoided the complex gazes and looked towards the depths of Falling Star Lake. The last rays of the setting sun sank into the water, leaving it dark as ink, bottomless.

Night fell again. The legend of Falling Star Lake would likely gain a new protagonist from tonight onwards – a mysterious young man who possessed the peerless lightness skill of Swallow Gate.

Chen Qing knew that his peaceful life in the fishing village was about to change.

However, in the distance, within the shadow of an old locust tree outside the village, a small figure was curled up. Her clear black and white eyes gazed intently at Chen Qing in the center of the crowd.