Parting

When An Shen Shi saw An Jing carrying a whole crate of grain and medicine back to their shack, she understood everything at once, and tears immediately streamed down her face.

Her experience was far greater than An Jing's; upon seeing the convoy and the white-robed scholar who had come to observe them earlier, a sense of foreboding had already taken root in her heart, and she had roughly guessed the reason for their interest.

Now that An Jing had returned with a crate full of medicine and grain, how could she not know that her child had caught the eye of those big shots, sold himself, and obtained this "life-buying" money?

"Jing'er." She tried to sit up, but An Jing hurriedly set down the crate, embraced his mother, and gently helped her sit straight. An Shen Shi wept, "It is I who have harmed you... it is I who have harmed you..."

"My son is a top-tier youth of the northern frontier. If these people were truly from a noble house, that would be one thing, but if they are some cultists or evil gang members who only bought you because they saw your talent while I was sick and weak, I... I would rather die!"

"Mother." An Jing's tone softened in a rare display of emotion. He sighed, "If not for you, how could I have walked through the wasteland unscathed?"

"If not for you, I would have died months ago—died on the banks of the Huai River, died in the ruins of Anmin County, and died under the blades of the wasteland bandits!"

"To save a mother's life, why begrudge this body? Furthermore, if these people are truly evil, I would never agree to harm the innocent. At most, I will repay them ten or a hundred times over in grain and money later, or save their lives in return."

"I will seek an opportunity to escape. I will never fall in with them or betray the integrity passed down by our ancestors!"

"Let's not think about that for now. Look, this crate is full of lung-nourishing and qi-regulating herbs, as well as Blood-Activating Pills and Lung-Healing Pills... take them quickly. By tonight at the latest, you will be able to regain your internal energy and return to the realm of a martial artist!"

Gently comforting his heartbroken mother, An Jing took a small porcelain bottle from the supplies and looked at An Shen Shi with anticipation. No matter how sad the woman was, under her child's gaze, she could only take out a pale red pill and swallow it.

Seeing his mother take the medicine, An Jing smiled slightly and earnestly instructed, "Mother, once you have these medicines and grain and have regained your strength, head south immediately. Bypass the checkpoints and do not stop."

"The scale of this Frost Calamity and the speed of its onset far exceed the past. Everything north of Broken Blade Mountain is unsafe, and Mingshan City... I fear it will fall as well."

"If you wait until then to leave, it will be too late. If the million people in Mingshan City all become refugees, the entire Hanbei Province will be unsafe. You must continue south until you reach the banks of the Linjiang River... Go early. With your strength, Mother, you will definitely be able to establish a foothold."

"I understand." An Shen Shi nodded slightly. This child had been intelligent since he was young and always had his own ideas. Even his father often listened to his suggestions; in fact, part of the An family's fortune had come from An Jing's advice, so she naturally would not disregard his words.

"But what about you?" As a mother, An Shen Shi was always thinking not of her own future, but of her child's. She looked at him with heavy concern: "Jing'er, what about you?"

"Me? Don't worry."

An Jing had already anticipated his mother's worry and answered smoothly, "Regardless of who these people are—whether they are truly wealthy clans buying servants or officials and sects cultivating dead soldiers—they need people to stay alive."

"The fact that they were willing to give these medicines as payment is proof enough. It shows that we might have an 'important value' that even we don't know about. I will definitely have a chance to survive."

At this point, An Jing suddenly paused.

An important value they didn't even know about? What value could a child in this refugee camp have? Was it to be traded and eaten, becoming meat in the pots of other refugees, or to be a burden on a household?

He himself was one thing—he did have some ability—but what other traits did the other children have, besides having a "hard life"?

A hard life...

Yes, a hard life... it was exactly that!

An Jing suddenly realized.

In this world of Huaixu and the great Da Chen, everyone spoke of destiny descending upon them and stars incarnating into the world.

The innate wisdom An Jing had displayed since childhood led his parents to believe he was a "Heavenly Star of Innate Wisdom," and they had placed great importance on it. Because Da Chen was founded on martial arts and governed by law, both literature and martial arts were considered the righteous path. Thus, they had taught An Jing to read and practice martial arts from a young age, laying a foundation that had forged his current strong physique.

[Fate] was the core of [Martial Arts].

Martial arts were prosperous in Da Chen; even a shepherd in a remote border region knew a few moves, but most were just crude, rustic techniques.

Even if a folk expert occasionally practiced a martial art to a refined level, they still hovered outside the true [Martial Arts]. Without perfecting the "Heart, Body, and Technique," they remained a certain distance away from comprehending [Internal Energy] and becoming a true martial artist.

An Jing's mother was a true martial artist who had reached the realm of "Internal Energy like Silk." His father was even higher, at the realm of "Internal Energy like a River," capable of projecting energy externally to injure bones and organs.

As for the one-eyed leader and the white-robed scholar, whom An Jing could not see through at all, they were at the peak of the Internal Energy realm: "Internal Energy like a Tide," where their power was perfectly rounded and impossible to probe.

That was the limit of mortal martial arts.

Without awakening and using [Fate] to refine one's blood and qi, one could not break the limits of the "Three Nourishments of Internal Energy," transform the body into something extraordinary, or step into the "Five Scenes of Internal Strengthening," let alone the many realms that followed.

Born into a martial family, An Jing naturally understood this, and his doubts were resolved: "Could it be that these people are trying to use the disaster to screen for children who have the potential to awaken their 'Fate'?"

Thinking of this, An Jing's expression turned serious, and he took his mother's hand: "Mother, you must survive."

"The northern barbarians have invaded, and Father went missing at Qingyu Pass, though his death was never confirmed. Even though I have sold myself, I may not necessarily be confined to one place in the future."

"Survive. No matter what, just survive."

"Only by surviving is there a future, and only then can we meet again!"

Saying this, An Jing embraced his mother deeply.

After letting go, the youth stood up, searched for rice in the crate, and said with a smile: "The leader let me come back, which means he allows me to have one last meal with you... surprisingly, they have a bit of humanity?"

"Mother, let's have a good meal."

An Shen Shi watched her child, who had already begun to prepare the fire to cook the rice. Her heart was filled with unspeakable bitterness, yet a trace of pride also welled up.

--This is the son heaven has gifted to me, Shen Mubai!

With her emotions surging, the pill she had swallowed earlier began to take effect. Her blood and qi rushed through her body, and An Shen Shi suddenly coughed up a mouthful of black blood—the clotted blood from her damaged lung meridians, proving that her injury was already healing.

The medicine was better than anything she had ever seen; such miraculous efficacy was truly incredible.

Seeing this, An Jing was also genuinely happy—his mother's strength was actually greater than his own. Now that her lung meridians were clear and her internal energy was recovering, ordinary bandits would not be able to get near her!

However, recovery would still take time...

An Jing narrowed his eyes and scanned his surroundings, sensing many prying eyes.

As the scent of rice wafted out, it attracted the attention of many refugees nearby who were already starving to the point of desperation.

Mingshan City had long since sealed its gates to refugees, and the relief porridge stalls had been shuttered for even longer. The refugee camp existed only because the lands between the Huai River and the Cuijiang River had been completely blocked off by checkpoints; with nowhere else to go, the refugees could only remain here and slowly starve to death.

Perhaps this was exactly the outcome the gentry of Mingshan City and the officials of Hanbei Province desired.

But life always finds a way, even if some paths are destined to be dead ends.

Among the refugees watching from the shadows, a few who were overly bold—or perhaps simply too starved to retain their reason—had already raised their wooden spears and were quietly creeping toward the shack where An Jing resided.

They had previously boiled a pot of "meat soup" and thought they would be full today, only to have it trampled and crushed by that group of riders, with the meat paste snatched up and scavenged by other refugees.

Now, seeing this consumptive woman and the skin-and-bones boy obtain so much grain from that troop of riders, their hearts were completely consumed by resentment, jealousy, and hunger.

But before they could launch their attack, An Jing stood up.

--Jackals.

An Jing watched the refugees approaching with their glowing, green eyes with cold indifference.

To him, these figures holding wooden spears were like jackals and winter wolves closing in; the stench of their drool, their frantic gazes, and their irrepressible malice washed over him like the knife-like winds of winter.

But he felt no fear.

An Jing drew the blade he had taken from the horse bandit, lunged forward, and without a moment's hesitation, slashed down at the refugee closest to him!

"Aaaah!!!"

Accompanied by a shrill, miserable scream, a spray of blood erupted from the greedy refugee's shoulder. The man staggered backward, his wooden spear falling to the ground—but An Jing showed no mercy. He stepped forward, delivered a crushing kick to the refugee's chest, trampled him into the dirt, then reversed his grip on the saber and slashed forcefully across the man's torso!

The sound of flesh and organs being sliced echoed out, and large pools of blood and foul-smelling fluids spilled forth, rapidly congealing under the frost of the Frost Calamity.

Finally, An Jing decapitated the refugee. Grabbing the man by the hair and hoisting the head aloft, he hung it from the side of their shack using the man's own wooden spear, amidst the screams of the other greedy refugees as they scattered in terror.

"This head is enough to buy you the time you need to recover your strength, Mother."

Returning to the shack, the rice was just cooked. An Jing met the gaze of An Shen Shi, who looked at him with relief, completely unbothered by the blood staining his face and clothes.

"This way, Mother won't have to worry about you being taken advantage of." An Shen Shi looked at her son with a mixture of tenderness and sorrow, reaching out to wipe the blood from An Jing's face. "Sit down and eat this last meal with me."

"Mm."

With the fearful gazes of others and the stench of blood as their backdrop, An Jing and his mother slowly finished their final meal in this refugee camp.

Then, came the parting.