The eastern sky had begun to pale, and the morning light spilled over the horizon, gilding the ravaged village in a faint golden hue.
The villagers were still busy, gathering what remained of their belongings and burying their dead. There were no complaints or cries, only silent toil and the occasional stifled sob.
Xu Yanli stood beneath the charred Old Locust Tree at the village entrance, watching it all in silence for a long time.
Huo Yuhao came to stand beside him and said softly, "Teacher, we should be going."
Xu Yanli nodded, but didn't move at once. He took a bag of Gold Soul Coins from his Storage Soul Tool and handed it to an old man clearing away the wreckage nearby.
"Old man, distribute this money among the villagers. It'll be enough to rebuild their homes and replace their belongings."
The old man took the purse with trembling hands. His cloudy tears ran down his wrinkled cheeks. He opened his mouth, but couldn't utter a word, only bowing again and again.
Xu Yanli steadied him and said softly, "No more bowing. The best way to thank me is for those who survived to live well."
He released the old man and turned toward the road out of the village.
Huo Yuhao followed behind him. After a few steps, he suddenly glanced back. The old man was still standing there, clutching the purse. His stooped figure looked especially frail in the morning light, yet carried an indescribable strength.
"Teacher." Huo Yuhao caught up with Xu Yanli and asked quietly, "You said the meaning of life was to protect what ought to be protected. Then...what do you want to protect?"
Xu Yanli's steps faltered. He didn't look back.
"What I want to protect..." His voice was very soft, as if