The campfire crackled, its orange-red flames driving away the northern chill and stretching the shadows of the two people nestled together.
After several grilled fish, a sense of contentment welled up. Huo Wu leaned against Zhang Bufan's side, cradling a cup of warm fruit juice in her hands. Her whole body felt pleasantly warm, and even much of the exhaustion from days of travel had faded away.
As the night deepened, the forest grew quieter still. Only the wind and the crackling campfire composed a peaceful nocturne. In such an atmosphere, people's defenses seemed easier to lower.
"Zhang Bufan," Huo Wu softly said, breaking the silence. "Were you... really an orphan before?"
It had always puzzled her. How could an orphan possess such terrifying strength, such extensive—albeit strange—knowledge, and such miraculous culinary skills?
Zhang Bufan took a sip of fruit juice and turned his gaze toward the dancing flames. His eyes seemed to sway with the firelight, becoming somewhat distant.
"More or less." He gave an ambiguous answer and began weaving his half-true, half-false tale of "an orphan's rise." "I grew up in a very remote, isolated mountain village. My parents died when I was very young, and I was raised by the kindness of the villagers."
That much was partly true—the original owner's circumstances.
"And your Martial Soul and strength..." Huo Wu pressed.
"My Martial Soul..." Zhang Bufan paused, deciding to reveal a little. "It's rather special. It seems to contain a great deal of ancient knowledge and power. A large part of my current strength comes from uncovering the legacy within my Martial Soul itself, along with... well, a little luck and talent." He pointed at his head.
*The Nine Cauldrons contain the heritage of Chinese civilization. Calling it a legacy of ancient knowledge and power isn't wrong!