As Kai stepped out of the Shui residence, he was met by a small crowd of villagers gathered anxiously outside. Their faces were a mix of worry and hope, their eyes searching for any hint of the outcome. The tension in the air was palpable until one of them finally worked up the courage to speak.

  "Is everything... alright?" a woman asked nervously, clutching the hands of her young son.

  Kai gave her a reassuring smile. "Yes, everything is fine. Yan is out of danger. He just needs rest, but he’ll make a full recovery."

  A wave of relief rippled through the group. Audible sighs of comfort and whispered prayers of gratitude broke the tense silence. Smiles began to spread among the villagers, and a few even clasped their hands together in thanks.

  Pushing gently through the crowd came an older man, leaning on a worn walking stick. His presence commanded immediate respect, even in his simplicity. Like everyone else, he wore peasant clothing, but the fabric was slightly finer, and his demeanor marked him as someone of importance in the village. This was Shi Lim, the village elder and leader of Haebaek.

  "Thank you so much, great and honorable cultivator of the Ember Sword Sect, which pierces the heavens," Elder Shi said, bowing respectfully with a slight tremor in his voice.

  Kai suppressed a groan, managing to maintain a polite expression. Internally, he cringed at the overly elaborate greeting. This was a common practice among mortals addressing cultivators, a display of deference that always felt unnecessary to him. He had never been comfortable with these grandiose titles, especially considering how little regard he actually had for his own sect.

  "That's fine, Elder Shi," Kai replied, holding up a hand to halt the stream of praise. "I’ve told you before, there’s no need for such fancy titles when speaking to me. Just Kai is fine."

  Shi Lim straightened slightly, his lined face betraying a hint of confusion before softening into a grateful smile. "Ah, yes, of course... Kai. Still, we cannot thank you enough for what you’ve done. Your kindness and skill have saved one of our own, and for that, we are forever in your debt."

  Kai shook his head. "There’s no debt. You don’t owe me anything. I only did what anyone with the means would’ve done."

  The crowd murmured in appreciation, but Kai could sense their awe of him only deepening. No matter how much he downplayed his actions, the villagers saw him as a figure far above their station.

  "Please," Shi Lim continued, "if there is anything you ever need of us, do not hesitate to ask."

  “Actually, there is something you could do for me,” Kai began, his voice measured. “If you have any to spare, I’d like a few bags of rice. But only if it won’t deprive any of you of your meals.”

  Shi Lim’s face lit up with enthusiasm. “Oh, it’s no trouble at all! Last year’s harvest was abundant, and this year looks even better. We could easily provide you with fifty bags if that’s what you need.”

  Kai smiled faintly, shaking his head. “Six bags will be plenty.”

  “As you wish. Follow me, noble cultivator,” Shi Lim said, bowing slightly before leading the way.

  Kai followed the elder to the village’s grain storage, one of the larger structures in Haebaek. Built partially into the ground and constructed from sturdy wood and thatch, the storage building was designed to stay cool, preserving its contents for as long as possible. As they entered, Kai was greeted by the sight of rows upon rows of rice sacks, stacked neatly and towering higher than he stood.

  Shi Lim gestured grandly toward the stockpile. “Take whatever you need.”

  Kai nodded in gratitude, stepping forward to inspect the bags. With practiced ease, he selected six sturdy sacks of rice and, with a flick of his wrist, activated his storage ring. One by one, the bags disappeared into the ring’s space as if they had been swallowed by thin air.

  Shi Lim stared in awe, his mouth slightly agape. To see something as mundane as rice vanish into a ring was nothing short of a miracle for a mortal like him. The other villagers who had followed at a respectful distance whispered amongst themselves, marveling at the cultivator’s abilities.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Kai noticed their fascination but paid it little mind. While it might seem wondrous to mortals, the storage ring he used was far from extraordinary in the world of cultivators. In fact, his ring was among the lowest-grade versions available, with limited storage capacity and restrictions on the types of items it could hold.

  Shi Lim, still mesmerized, found his voice. “Such a treasure must be invaluable. It’s no wonder cultivators are held in such high regard.”

  Kai glanced at the ring on his finger, its design betraying its simplicity. “Not as invaluable as you might think,” he replied, his tone neutral. “This one is basic—barely enough for my needs. Higher-grade rings can store entire fields of crops or even houses, but those are far beyond my means.”

  Shi Lim seemed even more impressed, not by the ring’s limitations but by the fact that Kai had shared such a humble detail about it. To the villagers, everything about Kai, from his calm demeanor to his seemingly magical tools, further cemented his status as someone extraordinary.

  Kai, however, couldn’t shake the thought of how much effort it had taken to acquire even this modest storage ring. It had cost him over hundreds of merit tokens—an amount that had taken years of menial work to accumulate. Despite its cost, the ring was invaluable to him for moments like this when transporting supplies was necessary.

  “Thank you for your generosity, Elder Shi,” Kai said, offering a respectful nod. “The rice will be a great help.”

  Shi Lim bowed deeply in return. “It is we who should thank you, great cultivator. You have saved one of our own and asked for so little in return. May the heavens bless you.”

  Kai didn’t respond immediately, unsure how to accept such reverence. Instead, he simply gave a polite smile and turned to leave, the weight of the villagers’ gratitude settling heavily on his shoulders as he exited the storage building.

  Kai quietly left the village, a few children waving and shouting their goodbyes as he walked away. He waved back with a faint smile, his thoughts already drifting. He had only taken a few steps past the village boundary when a voice called out behind him.

  “Uncle Kai! Uncle Kai!”

  He turned to see Ming running toward him, her feet kicking up dust from the dirt path. Before he could say a word, she barreled into him, wrapping her small arms tightly around his waist. Kai was momentarily startled but quickly softened, a rare smile gracing his lips as he gently patted her head.

  “Thank you for saving my father,” she said, her voice thick with emotion as she released him and took a small step back.

  Kai nodded. “It’s nothing, Ming. I’m glad I could help.”

  “Um, I wanted you to have this,” she said, holding out a delicate white lily. The flower was pristine, its petals glowing faintly in the soft light of the setting sun.

  “Oh, it’s beautiful. Thank you so much,” he said, accepting the flower with genuine appreciation. He handled it carefully, as though it were as precious as the gratitude it represented.

  Ming hesitated for a moment, shuffling her feet nervously before looking up at him. “Um, Uncle Kai… can I ask you something before you go?”

  “Of course,” Kai said, crouching slightly so they were at eye level.

  “Is it strange that I don’t like cultivators?”

  Kai blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected question. For a moment, he was unsure how to respond. It was rare—almost unheard of—for a mortal to openly express disdain for cultivators. Most people revered them, even feared them. But as Kai considered Ming’s situation, her disdain began to make sense. She had every reason to harbor resentment.

  Before he could answer, Ming quickly added, “I mean, I still like you a lot, Uncle Kai. It’s just… the other cultivators I’ve met, I don’t like them. The adults in the village tell me I shouldn’t say such things.”

  Kai sighed softly, his expression turning serious. “Well, the adults are right. You shouldn’t say that in front of just anyone. Most cultivators aren’t like me, Ming. They wouldn’t take those words kindly.”

  Her shoulders slumped slightly. “Oh… okay.”

  Kai leaned in closer, his tone shifting to a playful whisper. “But I’ll let you in on a little secret.”

  Ming’s eyes widened with curiosity.

  “I don’t like cultivators very much either,” he said, his voice low but with a conspiratorial grin.

  Ming gasped, her expression lighting up with surprise and delight.

  “Our little secret,” Kai added, placing a finger to his lips in a playful gesture.

  Ming giggled, her earlier nervousness melting away. She nodded vigorously before turning and running back toward her home, her laughter echoing faintly in the distance.

  Kai stood and watched her go, the white lily still in his hand. He glanced down at the flower, his smile fading into a pensive expression. Ming’s honesty and innocence reminded him of what he had lost long ago—what most cultivators had sacrificed in their relentless pursuit of power.

  Tucking the lily into his robes carefully, Kai turned and resumed his journey back to his shack, the image of Ming’s bright smile lingering in his mind.