When An Shenshi saw An Jing returning to their makeshift shack carrying a full crate of grain and medicinal supplies, she understood everything at once, and her face was instantly flooded with tears.
More experienced than An Jing, she had already felt a sense of foreboding when she saw the caravan and the white-robed scholars who had come to observe them later. She had roughly guessed their intent in scrutinizing her. Now, as An Jing returned with the crate, how could she not know that her child had been sold by these influential figures who had taken a liking to him—that these were the life-buying wages for selling himself?
"Jing'er." She tried to sit up. An Jing hurriedly set down the crate, embraced his mother, and slowly helped her sit straight. An Shenshi wept, "It is I who have harmed you... it is I who have harmed you..."
"My son is a fine youth of the Northern Frontier. If these people were truly from a noble house, that would be one thing, but if they are evil sectarians or gang members who only bought you because they saw your talent while I was weak and ill, I... I would rather have died!"
"Mother." An Jing’s tone softened, a rarity for him. He sighed, "If not for you, how could I have safely traversed the wasteland?"
"Without you, I would have died months ago. I would have died on the banks of the Huai River, in the ruins of Anmin County, or under the blades of the wasteland bandits!"
"To save a mother’s life, why begrudge this body? Besides, if these people are truly wicked cultists wanting me to harm the world, I would never agree to it. I would pay them back tenfold, a hundredfold, in money and grain, and if need be, save their lives another day."
"I will seek a chance to escape. I will never fall in with them or betray the integrity passed down by our An ancestors!"
"Let us not think of that for now. Look, this box is filled with medicines to nourish the lungs and soothe the breath, along with blood-activating pills and healing pellets... Take them quickly. By tonight at the latest, Mother, you will be able to restore your Inner Breath and return to the realm of a Martial Artist!"
Soothing his mother, whose heart ached for him, An Jing took a small porcelain bottle from the supplies. He looked at An Shenshi with expectation. No matter how deep her grief, under her child’s gaze, she could only take out a pale red pill and swallow it.
Seeing his mother take the medicine, An Jing smiled slightly and cautioned her earnestly: "Mother, once you have these medicines and grains and regain your strength, go straight south. Bypass the checkpoints and do not linger."
"This Frost Calamity is of such scale and momentum that it far exceeds anything of the past. Everything north of Broken Blade Mountain is unsafe. Mingshan City... I fear it is doomed as well."
"If you wait until then to leave, it will be too late. If the million people in Mingshan City all become refugees, the entire Hanbei Circuit will be unsafe. You must continue south, to the banks of Broken Blade Mountain and the Linjiang River... Go early. With your strength, Mother, you will certainly be able to gain a firm footing."
"I know." An Shenshi nodded slightly. This child had been intelligent since he was small and had always been strong-willed. Even his father often listened to his suggestions; a portion of the An family’s own business had originated from An Jing’s advice. She would naturally not take his words lightly.
"But what about you?" As a mother, her thoughts were never on her own future. She looked at her child, full of worry: "Jing'er, what about you?"
"Me? Do not worry."
An Jing had anticipated his mother’s concern and answered fluidly: "Regardless of who these people are—whether they are a wealthy clan buying servants or an official sect training Death Retainers—they need people to stay alive."
"Their willingness to give these medicines as blood-money is proof enough. It proves that we must have some 'important value' that even we are unaware of. I will certainly have a chance to survive."
At this, An Jing suddenly paused.
*Important value that even we don't know?* What value could there be in children in a refugee camp? To be cannibalized like exchanged children, becoming stew for other refugees, or merely to be a burden?
As for himself, he did indeed have some ability, but the other children—aside from having tough lives—what other traits did they have?
*A tough life...*
Yes, a tough life... that was it!
An Jing suddenly understood.
In this world of Huaixu, in the great nation of Dachen, everything revolved around the concept of Divine Anomalies descending and stars being incarnated.
The Innate Wisdom from Past Lives that An Jing had displayed since childhood had been viewed by his parents as the sign of a celestial star, and they had attached great importance to it. Because Dachen was built on martial prowess and governed by law, with both the literary and martial arts regarded as the orthodox path, they had taught An Jing to read and practice martial arts from a young age, laying a solid foundation and shaping his current sturdy physique.
The [Destiny Grid] was the core of the [Martial Path].
Martial arts flourished in Dachen; even a shepherd in the remote frontier could perform a few scattered techniques, but most were merely rustic tricks. Even those rare folk experts who reached a certain level of proficiency still hovered outside the true [Martial Path], lacking the perfect "Heart, Body, Technique." They remained some distance away from grasping the [Inner Breath] and becoming true Martial Artists.
An Jing’s mother was a true Martial Artist, having reached the "Inner Breath - Silken Thread" level. His father was even further along, at the "Inner Breath - River Flow" level, capable of projecting his Inner Breath to injure others or detect bones. As for the one-eyed leader and the white-robed scholar whom An Jing could not see through, they were at the peak of the Inner Breath level—"Inner Breath - Tidal Surge"—already possessing a seamless, unfathomable mastery.
That was the limit of mortal martial arts.
Without awakening and using one's [Destiny Grid] to refine the blood and energy of the body, one could never break through the limit of the [Inner Breath - Three Nourishments]. One could never transform the mortal body into a Divine Anomaly, step into the [Internal Strengthening - Five Scenes], let alone reach the many realms beyond.
Born into a martial family, An Jing understood this, and his doubts were dispelled: "Could these people be using the disaster to screen for children with the potential to awaken their [Destiny Grid]?"
Thinking this, An Jing’s expression turned serious. He took his mother’s hand: "Mother, you must survive."
"With the Northern Barbarians invading, Father went missing at Qingyu Pass, but his death was never confirmed. Although I have sold myself, I may not necessarily be confined forever."
"Survive. No matter what, survive first."
"Only by surviving can there be a future, and can we meet again!"
With these words, An Jing hugged his mother tightly.
After letting go, the boy stood up, searched for rice in the crate, and smiled: "That leader let me return, effectively allowing me to have one last meal with you... A touch of humanity, perhaps?"
"Mother, eat your fill."
An Shenshi watched her child, who had already begun to prepare a fire to boil the rice. She felt an indescribable ache in her heart, yet a hint of pride swelled within her.
*—This is the child Heaven has gifted to me, Shen Mubai!*
As emotions surged within her, the pill she had swallowed took effect. Blood and energy began to rush through her. An Shenshi suddenly gagged and spat out a mouthful of black blood—the clotted blood from her damaged lungs, proving that her condition was improving.
The medicine was better than she could have imagined. Such divine efficacy was truly incredible.
Seeing this, An Jing felt immense relief. His mother’s strength was actually greater than his own; now that her lung meridians were clear and her Inner Breath restored, ordinary bandits could not get near her!
However, recovery would take time...
An Jing narrowed his eyes, surveying his surroundings, and sensed many prying eyes.
As the fragrance of the rice spread, it drew the attention of many refugees who were starving to the point of desperation. Mingshan City had long since blockaded the refugees, and the porridge stations had closed. The refugee camp remained only because the Huai and Cui Rivers were blocked by checkpoints; the refugees had nowhere else to go and could only stay here, slowly starving to death.
This was perhaps the result that the gentry of Mingshan City and the officials of the Hanbei Circuit desired.
But life always seeks its own way out, even if some paths are destined to be dead ends.
Among the prying refugees, a few who were either too bold or had lost their minds to hunger had picked up wooden spears and were quietly approaching the shack where An Jing lived. They had already boiled a pot of "meat soup," thinking they would be able to eat that day, only to have it trampled by the riders. The scraps had been snatched away by other refugees. Now, seeing this "consumptive woman" and "skin-and-bones boy" receive so much grain, their hearts were filled with hatred, jealousy, and hunger.
But before they could strike, An Jing stood up.
—Jackals.
An Jing stared coldly at the refugees approaching with ghostly green glints in their eyes. In his sight, these figures clutching wooden spears were like jackals and wolves closing in. Their foul drool, insane eyes, and irrepressible malice were rushing toward him like the icy, blade-like wind of winter.
But he felt no fear.
An Jing drew the blade he had taken from the bandits and lunged forward, striking without hesitation at the nearest refugee.
"Aaaaaah!!!"
With a shrill scream, a spray of blood burst from the greedy refugee’s shoulder. The man stumbled back, his wooden spear falling to the ground. An Jing showed no mercy; he stepped forward, kicked the refugee in the chest, stomped him to the ground, and then, gripping the sabre in reverse, slashed forcefully across his chest and abdomen!
The sound of flesh and organs being sliced echoed, followed by a great gush of blood and foul, visceral fluid that quickly congealed in the frost of the calamity.
An Jing finished by severing the refugee’s head. Grabbing the hair, he held the head up, and amidst the screams of the other greedy refugees fleeing in terror, he used the man’s own wooden spear to hang the head on the side of the shack.
"This head is enough to buy Mother the time she needs to recover her martial strength."
Returning to the shack, the rice was perfectly cooked. An Jing met the eyes of An Shenshi, who looked at him with relief, not minding the blood remaining on his face and clothes.
"Now, Mother won't worry about you being taken advantage of." An Shenshi watched her son with a gaze that was both gentle and sorrowful, reaching out to wipe the blood from his face: "Sit down and eat this last meal with me."
"Yes."
With the fearful gazes of others fixed upon them and the stench of blood in the air, An Jing and his mother slowly finished their final meal in the refugee camp.
Then, came the parting.