Chapter 26: The Marvel

"My brother is such a sleepyhead, still snoozing in broad daylight! The dog in the yard has barked three times, and he still hasn't woken up."

A little girl with her hair in twin buns, who had been hopping on the steps, chimed in. She was the same child who had been wailing over her dropped candied hawthorn just moments ago; now, with a fresh treat in hand, she was chirping with delight, showing no trace of her earlier tears.

"Hush!" Ye Minwei raised a finger to her lips, speaking with mock severity. "Don't wake him."

"Why?"

"If he's woken up, he'll get angry, and he'll start scolding people."

Ye Minwei stepped over the symbols she had drawn all over the ground and sat down on the stone steps beneath the weeping willow's shade. Nibbling on her own candied hawthorn, she added, "For him, the day is quieter than the night, which is why he can only sleep soundly when it's light out."

The boy who had given her the treat didn't understand and asked, "Why? What was the big brother doing all night?"

"We went to Mount Chongdan."

"Mount Chongdan!?"

The children gathered around her gasped in unison. One of them said, "My grandfather says that even eagles can't fly back from Mount Chongdan, and only those immortals who can ride the clouds and mist can reach it. You were actually able to come back from there? Granny, are you an immortal too? Do you have supernatural powers?"

Ye Minwei answered earnestly, "I am not. I am an ordinary person, just like all of you."

"That's not true! I just saw you plant a tree, Granny! It grew so fast!" a child blurted out.

Ye Minwei looked toward the lush willow tree behind her. It grew by the courtyard wall and took up most of the narrow path. By all accounts, a tree this thick should have looked ancient and weathered, yet it appeared brand new, its leaves vibrant and oily.

Ye Minwei studied the tree for a moment, then slipped off her bracelet, as casually as one might remove a simple iron band—not a gold one, and certainly not the Wanyuan Senluo.

She placed the bracelet on the wrist of the oldest child, a boy just over ten. "You try."

She rotated the bracelet, and it split into several overlapping circles that spun around his wrist, glowing with a soft blue light. The moment the boy pressed a willow twig into the soil, it shot upward, transforming into a sturdy trunk within his small, trembling hands. New branches burst forth, sprouting green buds that quickly unfurled into leaves.

Under the blazing sun, the tree pulsed with vibrant life.

The children, who had been squatting, all stood up, standing on their tiptoes to stare in breathless wonder as the tree shook out its cloak of green, cheering and dancing around it. The boy who had "grown" the tree stood frozen, staring at his hands in utter disbelief.

Under the shade of the tree, the man covered in a layer of marigolds finally opened his eyes.

In his clearing vision stood a woman with white hair and white robes. The candied hawthorn in her hand caught the light with an amber glow. She stood with her back to him, looking up at the towering willow, her expression peaceful and ethereal.

"You see? It isn't just immortals who can do these things; anyone can. I have no supernatural powers, and there is nothing strange about this. If I teach you, you will be able to do it too," she said naturally to the children beside her.

Two willow trees now filled the street, their trailing branches like green silk ribbons swaying around her in the breeze.

Wen Ci watched her in silence. He had been woken up, yet he felt no anger; his dark eyes held a layer of gentle warmth, almost like nostalgia.

Hearing movement behind her, Ye Minwei turned to see Wen Ci sitting up, sending the marigolds cascading to the ground.

She said with satisfaction, "You're awake. You fell right to the ground the moment I turned my back."

"Who told you to wait until nearly dawn to come down? I don't know what you were wandering around for, to be so enthusiastic about it."

Ye Minwei ignored him, looking at the marigolds scattered across the ground with a touch of regret. "These flowers look beautiful covering you."

Wen Ci let out an ambiguous laugh. He picked up the bamboo hat that had fallen nearby, put it on, and pulled the brim low to hide his eyes.

"Do you know what marigolds are used for in these parts?"

"What for?"

"Funerals."

Those little brats were likely playing a prank on him.

Ye Minwei nodded. She pondered for a moment, then scooped up a handful of marigolds. "Then, when you die, I will grow a whole field of marigolds to cover you. You will be the most beautiful corpse."

"…That is entirely unnecessary!"

Recently, under the strict instructions of Xie Yuzhu, Ye Minwei had been "taking care" of Wen Ci, but due to a lack of both talent and common sense, her care often veered in the wrong direction—much like this moment.

Ye Minwei reclaimed her Wanyuan Senluo, and the two of them squeezed past the two side-by-side willow trees, walking along the quiet path toward their lodgings in Ningyu.

After a few steps, Wen Ci slowed his pace. He looked back to see the children still gathered around the willow in awe.

The boy who had grown the tree was staring at his own hands in a trance. Small and thin, standing amidst the symbols Ye Minwei had drawn, he looked as if he had stepped into her magical world.

For a fleeting moment, Wen Ci felt as if he were seeing his younger self, standing in a sea of flowers amidst the wind and snow decades ago.

He had held his very first spiritual artifact, turning back in shock and joy. Ye Minwei had been standing beneath the wooden hut, her hair a mix of white and black, her eyes peaceful.

"I told you, you could do it too," she had said.

That year, the wind and snow had been laden with petals; the snow-covered ground was a riot of color, the air thick with scent.

The trees grown through the Thorn-Birth Technique were fragile and short-lived. Later, all the trees he planted in the depths of winter perished, save for the persimmon tree by the house.

The words she spoke to the children were the same ones he had heard, and once believed, thinking that everyone below the mountains was like her, that everyone commanded the wonders of heaven and earth.

Years later, when he discovered he had been deceived and went to argue with her, she remained as calm as ever, insisting on her own perspective.

*—I told you to make a spiritual artifact, and didn't you succeed? You hold the artifact, and don't you use techniques just like me?*

*—What is the difference between us? And what is the difference between me and the people below the mountains?*

The difference was as vast as heaven and earth.

She seemed forever unable, or perhaps unwilling, to admit that there was only ever one Ye Minwei in the world. From a thousand years ago to a thousand years hence, there would only ever be one Ye Minwei.

How many could understand what she was doing? Even he did not.

This was a narrow world, far less vast than she imagined.

Wen Ci turned back and let out a faint, dry laugh.

They avoided the crowds, following the path until they were out of the town. As the houses thinned, vast, vibrant green fields unfurled like a carpet all the way to the foot of the mountains. In the distance, a solitary courtyard stood in the fields, and an old woman of nearly eighty with white hair sat by the gate. Wearing a black brow-band, she lay back in a rocking chair, dozing in the sun.

As Wen Ci and Ye Minwei approached, they uncharacteristically slowed their steps, tip-toeing around her to reach the door. The old woman’s eyes were half-closed, clearly still in her dreams, but just as Wen Ci relaxed to push the door open, a joyful cry erupted from within: "Master and Second Master, you're back!"

"Who? Who? Oh, my little Yun'er is back!"

A thunderous, spirited shout followed. Ye Minwei, following behind Wen Ci, was suddenly yanked forward by the old woman. She stumbled several times before finding her footing. The old lady, now wide awake and bursting with energy, affectionately stroked her shoulders, beaming. "Little Yun'er, you've lost weight!"

Wen Ci moved to leave, but the old woman’s eyes were sharp; she grabbed him instantly, shouting, "And here is Tie Zhu!"

Wen Ci turned, his face darkening to a shade that matched the name the old woman had just bellowed.

A young man of eighteen or so poked his head out from the doorway. He was a lifelong farmer, his skin tanned dark by the sun, but his features were honest and revealed a kind, simple nature.

He called out with a helpless, apologetic look, "Granny! You're confused again!"

This Granny Sun was seventy-nine years old. She was neither dizzy nor dim-sighted; she walked with a vigorous stride and had a voice like a booming bell, her face glowing with health—she looked nothing like a woman of her age. But there was one thing: her mind had clouded. She couldn't recognize people, was prone to forgetting, and called out random names to anyone she saw.

When Wen Ci and Ye Minwei’s party of four arrived in Ningyu, the town was already overflowing with disciples from various immortal sects, and the inns were packed. Worse, the eldest sister of Xie Yuzhu had also arrived. Upon catching a glimpse of her from afar, Xie Yuzhu had hidden behind Ye Minwei like a mouse seeing a cat, barely escaping notice.

There was no way they could stay in town, so they sought out a secluded farmhouse. Cang Shu did a quick calculation, led them out of town, and brought them to this farm.

The moment they knocked and entered, before they could even explain their intentions, Granny Sun had scurried over, wrapped Ye Minwei in a hug, and wailed, "My little Yun'er," leaving her grandson, Song Jiao, to scramble to pull her away.

It turned out the old lady had mistaken Ye Minwei for her deceased daughter, Song Jiao’s mother. It was hard to blame her; to avoid trouble, Wen Ci had used a disguise technique to make Ye Minwei look like an elderly woman, and she bore a striking resemblance to Granny Sun.

A moment later, Granny Sun turned to Wen Ci and called him her son-in-law, then mistook Cang Shu for her son who had died in childhood.

Finally, she took Xie Yuzhu’s hand, eyes brimming with tears. "Han Dan... Han Dan, you've grown up."

Xie Yuzhu stood stiff and bewildered, asking Song Jiao blankly, "Who is Han Dan again...?"

Song Jiao, sweating profusely, pried the old woman’s fingers loose. "Granny, Granny, what are you saying? Han Dan... Han Dan is right here! I’m Han Dan!"

The six-foot-tall man turned beet red, and it took quite some convincing before Granny Sun finally let go.

The farmhouse was home only to the young man, Song Jiao, and his elderly grandmother. His parents, who disliked dealing with others, had moved out to the countryside years ago to live in seclusion. After they passed away, the house had stood empty.

Hearing their request to stay and seeing the exorbitant sum of money Xie Yuzhu offered, the kind-hearted Song Jiao agreed immediately. He said he was worried about Granny being alone while he worked in the fields, and their presence would bring some much-needed life to the home.

Granny Sun’s recognition of people still fluctuated, but she remained steadfast in her belief that Ye Minwei was her daughter.

The atmosphere in the towns and villages surrounding Mount Chongdan was tense. Beyond the various immortal sects, many nightmare-masters had arrived, not to mention the "spirit bandits" who had snuck in to take advantage of the chaos. They were all busy setting traps and searching, determined to capture the Nightmare Beast.

In contrast, the atmosphere in the lonely courtyard amidst the fields was remarkably leisurely. When Wen Ci and Ye Minwei returned, Xie Yuzhu was using a puppet to serve tea, pour water, and massage shoulders for everyone, constantly urging Song Jiao, Cang Shu, and Granny Sun to join her for a game of mahjong.