This Life

Su Li felt that he was nearing his end.

This sensation was quite peculiar; it didn't feel like an illness, but rather as if the battery inside his body was finally about to drain its last drop of power.

His limbs began to grow heavy, and the string in his mind that had been pulled taut for so long finally slackened. His entire being felt light and airy, as if he could float away at any moment.

He was seventy-eight this year.

At this age, in this godforsaken place, he was an undisputed elder of longevity, a lucky charm whom the village chief would invite to sit at the head of the table to bless the children by patting their heads.

Su Li struggled to hoist himself up from the recliner.

His old bones let out a series of crisp "crack-crack" sounds, reminiscent of roasting beans.

He walked over to the bronze mirror and looked at the person inside.

The face in the mirror had only a few fine lines at the corners of the eyes, and his hair had turned completely white.

His skin remained firm, his features were still sharp, and those eyes still seemed to possess a hook.

"Tsk." Su Li touched his own face. "What an old demon."

Su Li laughed at himself. This was likely a side effect—or perhaps a perk—of that [Sword Brows Starry Eyes] trait. Regardless, throughout this life, relying on this face, he had never once come out on the losing end, whether he was buying groceries in town or running a tab at the neighboring village.

It was just hard on Su Na.

The girl looked older than him now.

When she came to visit yesterday, Su Na's hair was gray and sparse, and the wrinkles on her face were piled up like walnut skin, yet she still had to call him "Father." The scene was more absurd than a farce.

Su Li fished a bottle of fruit wine he had hidden long ago out of the cabinet. This was the last batch Saina had brewed three years ago, and he hadn't been able to bring himself to drink it.

"Let's go." Su Li patted the wine bottle. "I'll take you to see the real owner."

He didn't disturb anyone. The courtyard was quiet, with only a few sparrows hopping about on the ground.

Su Li pushed open the mottled wooden gate and wandered out, swaying unsteadily.

Wading Village had long since changed. The original dirt roads were paved with gravel, and the low-slung thatched cottages had been replaced by brick houses.

The small tavern at the entrance of the village had doubled in size, with colorful signs hanging at the door.

But that had nothing to do with him anymore. He was just a passerby now, the kind who was about to check out and leave.

Su Li followed the familiar path, walking slowly toward the mountain behind the village.

His legs truly refused to obey him; he had to stop and catch his breath every two steps.

But he didn't stop, nor did he want anyone to help him.

This last stretch of his life had to be walked on his own.

On the hillside of the back mountain, there was a plot of land facing the sun.

It was a prime spot of geomancy he had picked out long ago; from there, one could see the village, the winding little river, and catch the very first rays of the sun every day.

A tombstone stood there.

Su Li plopped down onto the grass in front of the stone and set the wine bottle down with a thud.

"Old woman, I've come to see you."

The stone was engraved with words: Tomb of Beloved Wife Saina. There were no flashy titles, nor any earth-shattering epitaphs. Just those simple words, carrying the down-to-earth sincerity of a life well-lived.

Saina had passed three years ago. She went peacefully, in her sleep, without suffering.

Before she left, she had gripped Su Li's hand, nagging him not to forget to eat and not to forget to water the flowers.

"You, why were you in such a rush to leave?" Su Li pulled out the cork, poured half for the tombstone, and took a swig himself. "Leaving me alone in this world to suffer. No one to mend my clothes these past few years, no one to nag me about the trivialities of daily life. My ears have been quiet, sure, but my heart... it feels empty."

The wine had turned a bit sour, but to Su Li, it tasted just right.

"I reckon I'm about done, too." Su Li leaned against the tombstone, feeling the coolness of the stone. "In this life, we managed to live our days out properly. No great wealth or status, nothing earth-shattering. But I'm content."

He thought of that broken system, that damned [Reincarnation] setting.

Survival duration in the previous life? Seventy-eight years; the score shouldn't be too low.

Wealth accumulation? Just those few boxes of funeral savings, probably an F.

Social status? A village blacksmith, an E at best.

Offspring? One son and one daughter, plus two grandsons; barely passable.

Legendary status? That category was likely a big fat zero. The most legendary thing he'd done in this life was marrying such a wonderful wife.

"F it is, then." Su Li grinned, a carefree, reckless smile. "I never cared about being some savior anyway. I just wanted a warm, simple life. And I got it."

He sat there for a long time, until the sun dipped toward the west.

Draining the last drop of wine into his mouth, Su Li brushed the dirt off his backside and stood up.

"Alright, I won't keep chatting with you. I still have to go see my daughter." Su Li patted the tombstone.

Su Li descended the mountain and circled to the other side of the village.

There stood a large brick house with a courtyard—the Kanlun family home.

The courtyard was lively. A stout, fierce-looking old woman was brandishing a fire poker, chasing a half-grown boy all around the yard.

That was Su Na, her temper hadn't changed a bit.

"You little brat! I told you not to sneak a bite! That pork knuckle was saved for your grandfather!" Su Na cursed and swore, her booming voice shaking the roof tiles.

The half-grown boy made a face as he ran; he was Su Na's little grandson, just as mischievous as Su Xiaochui had been back in the day.

Kanlun, Old Kanlun's son—who was also Su Li's son-in-law—was squatting by the base of the wall, grinning foolishly while sharpening a butcher knife.

He had grown old too, his back hunched, yet he still looked as simple and honest as ever.

Su Li did not go in.

He stood behind the large willow tree outside the courtyard wall, peering through the gaps in the fence.

He watched the little girl who once acted spoiled in his arms now transformed into a formidable head of the household. He watched that family's chaotic yet vibrant life.

That was enough.

If he went in now, it would inevitably lead to wailing and tears, and he would be surrounded by those filial children and grandchildren fussing over him with medicine and water.

Su Li hated that most of all. If one had to die, it should be clean and quick; he wanted none of those sticky, sentimental farewell ceremonies.

"Time to go," Su Li said to himself.

He turned around and did not look back. His silhouette looked a bit desolate, but his stride remained steady.

The final stop was the Old Locust Tree.

It was at the entrance of Wading Village, the place where everything had begun.

It was also right here that he had met Saina.

That freckle-faced girl.

Her fantasy of a Prince Charming had kept him tethered for his entire life.

The original Old Locust Tree was long gone, struck down by lightning. A new one had grown in its place, only as thick as a bowl, looking quite tender.

Su Li walked to the base of the tree and lay down in a comfortable position.

The ground was a bit hard, but he couldn't be bothered by that now.

The setting sun was perfect, shining warmly upon him.

Su Li squinted, looking at the tender green leaves above. Light filtered through the gaps, casting dappled spots on his face.

His body felt lighter and lighter. That sense of heaviness was peeling away bit by bit.

He remembered many things.

He remembered the excitement of forging his first piece of quality iron, the creaking of the old bed on his wedding night, the sight of Su Xiaochui riding a wooden horse around the courtyard, and the focused look in Saina's eyes as she sewed patches for him.

These fifty-eight years felt like a long, vivid dream.

There were no system notifications, no mission panels, no grandstanding or face-slapping. Only the mundane necessities of life, only the turning of the seasons.

"Not bad."

Su Li muttered.

He felt his eyelids growing heavy. The drowsiness came over him like a tidal wave, impossible to resist.

That was fine, too.

He had been tired his whole life; it was time for a long sleep.

As for the next life...

Whatever happens, happens. If he could draw a good trait again, he would go out and roam once more.

If he couldn't, well, he would just find another silly girl like Saina and keep on living.

Su Li's hand dropped.

Those eyes, which had always held a hint of craftiness and a touch of worldly wisdom, slowly closed.

His breathing grew slower and shallower.

Finally, it fell into silence.

The wind stopped. The leaves of the new locust tree ceased their movement.

It was as if the world itself were holding its breath, seeing off this old soul who had managed to find flavor in an ordinary life.

Su Li was dead.

He died with dignity, as if he had simply taken an afternoon nap.

There was even a faint, lingering smile on the corners of his mouth—a final mockery of this damn world, and a reconciliation with it.

He did not know how much time had passed.

The sun had set, and only a final sliver of blood-red afterglow remained on the horizon.

A person walked down the village path.

The figure wore a pitch-black robe with the hood pulled low, obscuring their face.

Yet, strapped to his back was an object wrapped in layers of tattered cloth; judging by its shape, it looked like a massive two-handed sword.

The sword was enormous, with a hilt as long as a forearm, and it was certainly not light.

However, as the man carried it, his gait remained incredibly steady, each step landing on the ground without making a single sound.

The figure in the black robe walked beneath the Old Locust Tree.

He stopped and looked down at the old man lying at the base of the tree, who had already breathed his last.

The eyes hidden within the shadows of his hood stared fixedly at Su Li's face, which remained young and handsome even in death.

A long silence passed.

The black-robed man's shoulders trembled.

"Thud."

He knelt down stiffly. His knees struck the hard, packed earth with a dull, heavy sound.

He did not cry out.

But two lines of clear tears slid down his weathered cheek, marked by a hideous scar, and dripped into the dust.

He reached out and, with the gentlest of movements, straightened Su Li's slightly disheveled collar, then folded his cold hands together and placed them over his abdomen.

Then.

The black-robed man bowed his body and pressed his forehead heavily against the ground.

"Thump!"

Once.

"Thump!"

Twice.

"Thump!"

Three times.

These three kowtows were struck with such force that the dust on the ground was kicked up into the air.

The black-robed man did not rise for a long time.

The evening breeze lifted a corner of his hood, revealing a lock of graying hair at his temple and a pair of eyes that looked strikingly like Su Li's.

From the giant sword wrapped in tattered cloth, a faint, dark red blood-light shimmered, as if it had just feasted on fresh blood.