A Century's Journey

"Xilian, I was born in a city-state that had been trapped in the Dark World ever since the Year of Rebellion."

Nuen pointed into the darkness, estimating its direction.

"It held out for nearly a hundred years against rebel forces, Chaos Followers, and demons. The siege only ended when the Sunflower Clan arrived. While they rested there, I joined their expeditionary force."

"Among the many rebel forces was a clan called the Doom Omen Clan. It, too, was one of the founding clans descended from the Ten Holy Bloods, yet during the Year of Rebellion, it willingly became a slave to Chaos.

Frey, the clan commander, was furious. He swore to take the head of every member of the Doom Omen Clan."

Even after a hundred years, Nuen still remembered what Frey looked like and held him in deep respect.

"We succeeded.

After a century of pursuit, the Sunflower Clan wiped out the Doom Omen Clan and burned the last member's body.

But the Sunflower Clan paid a terrible price. Without realizing it, we had reached the depths of the Dark World.

Before we could rest, rebel forces and Chaos Followers ambushed us. Even Abominations that had long lain dormant rose into the Spirit Realm and joined that desperate siege."

Nuen instinctively touched his abdomen. A scar that had nearly cut him in half ran across it, left by that siege.

"Commander Frey realized the Sunflower Clan might perish there. To ensure its survival, he led the main force into a final battle with the enemy, covering another group of Torchbearers as they broke through and returned to the Civilized World.

I had only recently become a Torchbearer, and my teacher put me among those breaking out. He said that if I stayed, I'd only be throwing my life away."

Nuen spoke calmly. "That was the last time I saw him."

"After that, it took us nearly ten grueling years to make our way back from the Dark World to the Civilized World.

Nearly a thousand of us had set out. When we reached the Outer Flame Frontier, barely a dozen remained. By the time I arrived at Daylight Holy City, I was the only one left."

Remembering those dark years, Nuen gave a sorrowful smile.

"I spent my childhood and youth in the Dark World. I was well into my thirties when I finally fought my way out of the thick Grey Fog and saw the sun for the first time."

"I stared at it for a long time. Even when it hurt my eyes and made me cry, I couldn't look away."

Nuen laughed at himself. "The rest of the story isn't very interesting."

"I sought help from other clans, but more than a decade had passed since that siege. Time and space in the Spirit Realm may be chaotic, but surely it had all ended years before.

I asked them to help me rebuild the Sunflower Clan, too. But... this is an age in which everyone stands alone."

Nuen's shoulders slumped with a long sigh. Xilian had never seen his teacher like this, as though someone had broken his backbone.

"As the Sunflower Clan's last surviving bloodline, I stumbled through many years. I advanced several ranks, killed many people, and saved many more. But I never found a way to rebuild the clan. In the end, I came to White Cliff Town."

Nuen stamped on the solid ground beneath his feet and sighed.

"I learned of this place from the clan's books.

The Sunflower Clan reclaimed this land during the Renaissance Era and established a base here. After changing hands several times, it became today's White Cliff Town."

"That doesn't surprise me," Xilian said, leaning against Nuen. "The Town Hall is practically a fortress..."

"Haha." After laughing, Nuen could only sigh. "Unfortunately, I never found a way to rebuild the clan. And I grew attached to the people here, so I stayed."

Nuen carefully opened the box. It held no rare treasure, only a transparent glass vessel filled with vivid blood that looked freshly drawn from a human body.

"Commander Frey said that if I brought this blood back to the Civilized World, the Sunflower Clan could be rebuilt."

"Is it Commander Frey's blood?"

Xilian knew little about Commander Frey, but he already held him in the highest regard.

"I don't know. But this blood will become your crystal seed."

Nuen shook his head dismissively, then his tone suddenly turned serious.

"Xilian, bare your chest."

Xilian obediently undid his collar and exposed his chest.

Nuen had always acted without hesitation.

He drew a dagger and cut Xilian's chest open without ceremony. The wound was deep, and the pain made Xilian clench his teeth.

Nuen unscrewed the vessel. For the first time in a hundred years, the living blood met the air.

In an instant, everything before Xilian fell into an eerie stillness. The world lost its colors, leaving only shades of black and white.

Even the powerful Nuen froze in the act of opening the vessel, turning into a gray-white statue.

In that pale, colorless world, the only hint of color was the vivid red inside the vessel.

Rustling whispers came from every direction, as though thousands of wandering souls surrounded Xilian.

"The one who roams... the pioneer..."

"A new spark..."

With difficulty, Xilian looked toward the distant darkness.

He saw them.

The clouds churned into vortices of different sizes that filled the entire sky, like eyes opening to gaze down upon the earth.

Three towering shadows of giants slowly emerged, holding up heaven and earth like pillars.

Ancient murmurs echoed inside Xilian's mind, reciting words no ordinary person could understand. His consciousness felt ready to burst.

Darkness surged in like a tide. An instant before it swallowed Xilian, the only color in the black-and-white world moved.

The blood flowed out of the vessel of its own accord and slipped into Xilian's wound like a mass of snakes.

It was the only color, and the only thing in that cold world with any warmth.

"The fire... still burns."

Someone whispered.

The frozen world shattered, and color returned. Countless eyes closed powerlessly; the vortices collapsed, and the shadows of the giants vanished like smoke.

Nuen's voice reached him.

"By clan tradition, I should hold a solemn ceremony for you. You would swear an oath to me, and a scribe would record your name and the successors to your bloodline... But our clan has fallen this far. There's no need to cling to such empty formalities."

The moment the blood entered Xilian's body, his wound healed before their eyes.

Nuen fastened Xilian's collar for him, his eyes full of satisfaction.

Xilian did not answer. He stared straight into the distant darkness. Several seconds passed before he looked back at Nuen.

Nuen had noticed nothing unusual just now... That nightmare had belonged to Xilian alone.

"What's wrong?"

Xilian was dazed for a few seconds, then shook his head. "Nothing, teacher. Just a bit of a... hallucination."

Once he was sure he was safe, Xilian focused on the changes in his body.

Xilian had inherited the sacred bloodline. The Source Energy he had struggled to control was tamed, and his body rapidly transformed toward the Transcendent.

"Different Fated Paths and different ranks grant Transcendents different abilities called traits."

Nuen began explaining the Torchbearers' system of power.

"You have now reached the first rank of the Torchbearing Path: Torchbearer.

First is the Resilient Body Trait. It greatly strengthens your body, including your stamina, strength, and rate of healing."

"Then comes the Soul Marrow Trait, the defining trait of a Torchbearer."

"Your blood will gradually condense into Soul Marrow. As your power grows, its concentration will rise.

When fighting an enemy, you can choose to burn the Soul Marrow in your body for a short time to gain greater power. But it takes a heavy toll on you. It's like turning yourself into a furnace."

Nuen did not need to explain. The instant Xilian had truly become a Torchbearer, he had instinctively known all this, as though the knowledge had been engraved on his soul and only now awakened.

Xilian tried burning his Soul Marrow. His veins reddened, and even his capillaries traced out patterns of flame. This time, he felt tremendous power within them, as though he could split mountains and shatter stone.

The burning stopped, and the heat inside him subsided. Xilian opened his mouth and breathed out a stream of scorching air.

Only then did it occur to Xilian. "Teacher, it's a bit late to ask, but that blood must have been very precious, wasn't it?"

"It was useless to me. Apart from you, no one in White Cliff Town could use it."

Nuen spoke coldly.

"If it can't be used, it's no different from trash."

The blood had made Xilian a Torchbearer. Naturally, he also had to bear the hopes placed in it.

"Teacher... do you want me to rebuild the clan?"

Nuen was silent for a moment before answering with a question of his own.

"Xilian, what's your dream?"

The sudden question caught Xilian off guard.

"My dream?"

Xilian frowned and scratched his head.

"I've always wanted to see the world outside, but I don't think that counts as a dream. It's just a stubborn idea."

He considered his answer before replying.

"If I have to say, I don't have a dream, teacher."

Nuen listened quietly, encouraging Xilian with his eyes to continue.

"Look at White Cliff Town, then look at this mad world. For people like us, who are always struggling to survive, dreams are a luxury."

Xilian gave a self-deprecating smile. "In our position, it's hard to spare any energy for lofty pursuits. Getting to read a few novels or eat some good roast meat is already the greatest comfort we can hope for."

Nuen asked, "Xilian, do you feel lost?"

"Lost? No, I'm not lost. I know exactly what I'm going to do next."

Xilian answered with confidence. "I'll cross the Wilderness, reach the outside world, solve White Cliff Town's troubles, and make sure everyone can live safely.

But to me, that's more like a responsibility. It's nowhere near a dream."

He looked Nuen in the eye and answered.

"Maybe I just don't have a dream yet."

Nuen replied, "Like ordinary people going about their lives?"

"Yes, like ordinary people going about their lives." For some reason, saying it aloud made Xilian feel lighter. "Not having a dream isn't some terrible sin. There's nothing wrong with being ordinary.

Maybe people don't have to have dreams."

Nuen smiled. "Go on, Xilian."

"If having a dream is what makes someone truly alive, then most people have never really lived. They're just walking corpses working to survive."

Xilian walked to the high wall and looked out over the brightly lit White Cliff Town.

"But what's wrong with that?

Lots of people simply want to live out their lives in peace. Though in this godforsaken world, I suppose even that counts as a big dream."

Nuen stepped beside Xilian, and together they looked out over White Cliff Town.

Their silhouettes joined. They no longer looked like teacher and student, or even father and son, but more like two friends talking through the night.

A long, gentle silence settled over them.

"But... teacher."

Xilian spoke again. "Having a dream wouldn't be bad, either."

"Hmm?"

"I think people with dreams must feel sure of their place in life."

Xilian stared at the Torchlight Lighthouse nearby, its bright fire filling his eyes.

He said softly, "Even if they lost an arm or broke a leg, they could still sleep soundly on the worst of nights. Even if they died, they'd die happy."

Nuen nodded in agreement and said,

"Xilian, I don't expect you to rebuild the clan."

"Why?"

"Because that's my dream, not yours."