Chapter 4 — The Abyssal King Returns

The morning sunlight filtered through the wooden door of the small house behind the dojo, illuminating Bách Uyên's still pale face. The smell of traditional medicine mingled in the air along with the sound of roosters crowing in the distance, the bustling sound of swords clashing outside the martial arts training yard - simple sounds that during many years of wandering he had never had the opportunity to hear fully every morning, without having to worry about whether there was still a place to stop today or not.

In the following days, Bách Uyên and Tiểu Yên remained at Chung Diệu Nga's martial arts studio to recuperate according to the old woman's advice. At first he was still shy, many times he wanted to ask permission to leave so as not to bother him for too long, but every time he opened his mouth, Thục Di immediately brushed it off.

"You're not completely well yet, where can you go now? Besides, Tiểu Yên also needs time to rest after a long trip," she said, her voice decisive, leaving no room for him to refuse.

Bách Uyên had to stay, but in his heart he always felt guilty because he owed so much gratitude and had no way to repay him. As soon as his health recovered somewhat, he proactively asked to do odd jobs around the martial arts hall to help, from chopping firewood, carrying water, to repairing the rotten wooden fence behind the martial arts training ground.

Chung Diệu Nga observed him working from afar, her sharp eyes could not hide her special attention. She noticed that, although Bách Uyên was clearly not used to manual labor, his movements when chopping wood or carrying loads carried a strange precision, as if his body, no matter how exhausted, still maintained a kind of discipline that was deeply ingrained in every sinew and muscle. It was not the appearance of an ordinary farmer or porter, but more like the appearance of someone who had undergone the most rigorous training, perhaps in the military or even higher.

"How do you see this person?" One evening, when Thục Di was helping the old woman prepare medicine in the kitchen, Chung Diệu Nga suddenly asked, her voice gentle but with a questioning intent.

"I find him kind, and loves his daughter very much," Thục Di replied without hesitation. "It's a bit strange, sometimes speaking very solemnly, like reading a book of saints and sages, but not knowing the simplest things in everyday life."

"Are you curious about his true identity?"

Thục Di thought for a moment then shook her head. "I'm curious, but I think, if he wants to hide it, he must have his own reasons. As long as he doesn't do anything harmful, I don't need to inquire to the end." Chung Diệu Nga nodded and did not say anything more, but in her heart she had her own speculations. She had lived long enough on the streets to realize that there were people with an ordinary past, and the best way to respect them was sometimes simply not trying to uncover the things they want to bury.

As for Tiểu Yên, she quickly became attached to Thục Di. Every morning, when Thục Di went out to practice martial arts with other disciples in the martial arts hall, Tiểu Yên sat on the steps, attentively watching every move, her eyes shining with admiration.

"Miss Thục Di, can you teach me martial arts?" She asked, her voice filled with excitement.

"Okay, but you're still young, let me teach you a few basic warm-up moves first, don't rush to learn any advanced moves." Thục Di smiled, patted her head, then patiently showed Tiểu Yên a few simple standing postures.

Bách Uyên stood hidden behind the wooden door, not daring to step out completely for fear of being interrupted. His daughter's laughter rang out clearly, lasting longer than the short, reserved laughter he was used to hearing during his seven years of wandering - the laughter that always seemed to be held back by the girl, afraid of disturbing her tired father. This time, Tiểu Yên laughed so much that she had to hold her stomach, her cheeks turned pink, there was no longer any trace of the older-than-her-age resignation he still saw in her. Perhaps, it was the rare peaceful atmosphere of Vân Khê Trấn, along with Thục Di's sincere care, that helped her temporarily forget some of the obsession about the sudden pain that often visited her.

One afternoon, while helping Chung Diệu Nga dry medicine in the backyard, Bách Uyên accidentally overheard a conversation between two older disciples in the martial arts hall, talking about a group of bandits that had just appeared near the forest west of the town, having robbed several passing trade groups in the past week. Hearing that, Thục Di immediately stood up and prepared her weapons.

"Are you going alone?" Bách Uyên asked, unable to hide his concern.

"I'm used to handling this, don't worry," Thục Di replied, putting the long sword on her shoulder. "This is my duty to this town."

That night, Bách Uyên sat awake on the doorstep, his ears perked up to catch every sound outside the gate, his hands unconsciously clenched and unclenched with each sigh. It wasn't until he heard the familiar sound of horse hooves and Thục Di's relieved laughter ringing out in the yard that his chest really stopped tightening, a long breath escaped as if he had just laid down a rock that had been weighing him down for an hour. He was stunned to realize that he had just worried about this girl's safety in a way that a grateful person should not have - a strange feeling, thought to have been buried since the day Nguyệt Hinh passed away, but now suddenly revived.

A few days later, when her health had recovered quite a bit, Bách Uyên came to Chung Diệu Nga and offered to stay in Vân Khê Trấn for a long time, asking to work in exchange for a place to live for father and daughter, instead of continuing a life of wandering without stopping.

"Are you really going to stay here?" The old woman asked, her eyes searching. "I don't know what you're avoiding, but if you really want to settle down, I have no objections. If you have good health and know how to work hard, you can learn anything."

"Thank you, senior." Bách Uyên bowed his head, his voice was rare and sincere. "My daughter needs a stable place to grow up, even for a short period of time is better than constantly traveling."

He didn't say that, deep down in his heart, he also hoped to spend more time with Thục Di, to understand more about the woman who had accidentally entered his life in the most sincere way possible. He also did not say that, his hunch told him that perhaps this small Vân Khê Town, with its talented traditional physicians, might hold some clue for the journey to find a way to resolve the contract that was clinging to his daughter.

One night, after Tiểu Yên fell asleep, Bách Uyên sat on the porch, looking at the moonlight hanging over the distant mountains. Thục Di had just finished practicing swordplay and stopped by to sit next to him, still holding a water gourd.

"Are you still not used to sleeping early?" She asked, handing him the water bottle.

"I'm more used to waking up early than going to bed early." Bách Uyên took it and took a sip. "For many years, I have stayed up every night to watch over my daughter, afraid that she would suddenly have a seizure without me knowing."

"What's wrong with her?" Thục Di asked softly, her eyes full of concern. "My master checked Tiểu Yên's pulse several times and said it was as strange as his, not like a normal illness."

Bách Uyên was silent for a long time, his fingers tightened around the water gourd. He wanted to tell the truth, wanted to find someone who could share the burden that had fallen on his shoulders for the past seven years, but the fear of revealing his identity, bringing danger to the people he valued, stopped him.

"It's a congenital, hereditary, very rare disease." He chose to speak vaguely, not exactly a lie but not the whole truth either. "I've searched everywhere but no one has been able to completely cure it."

"Then you can stay here for a long time," Thục Di said, her voice was firm. "Although Tran Vân Khê is small, there are a few traditional medicine men who are very good at their profession. Who knows, maybe they can find clues. Besides, with you here to help, it will be much easier for my master."

Bách Uyên turned to look at her, his eyes filled with gratitude that was hard to express in words. During the seven years of wandering, this was the first time someone, not because of duty or blood relationship, truly wanted him and his daughter to stay, be safe, and be happy.

"Thank you," he spoke softly, his voice slightly choked. "Not only for saving my daughter and me, but for making us feel welcome, a feeling that has been so long that I can no longer remember clearly."

Thục Di did not respond immediately, just smiled and looked out at the dark yard, where silver moonlight covered the pots of wildflowers Tiểu Yên had just planted in the afternoon. In her heart, a strange feeling was also creeping in, a concern far beyond what she had ever given to any stranger she had helped before, but she had not yet been able to name what that feeling was.

To supplement his livelihood, Bách Uyên accepted to work as a day laborer for a few households around town on his free days without needing to help at the dojo, from plowing the fields to rebuilding leaky roofs. The first time he plowed for an old farmer in town, he still clumsily controlled the buffalo, causing the plow path to become uneven. The old farmer laughed and said, "You look like you're holding a plow for the first time." Bách Uyên just laughed, did not explain, silently learned each session, and after only half a month, his plowing path was as straight as the most skilled farmers in the town.

Chung Diệu Nga arranged for father and daughter to have a small house behind the martial arts hall, which was previously used as a warehouse, but has now been cleaned up to serve as temporary accommodation. Bách Uyên began renovating the house, fixing the rotten floorboards himself and building a small kitchen, with his initial clumsiness gradually improving with each day of practice.

Tiểu Yên, for the first time in seven years, has a small corner that she can call home, no matter how simple. She personally decorated the corner of her room with wildflowers picked from around the yard. Her eyes sparkled with joy every time Thục Di came over to play with her after martial arts practice.

Those peaceful days, although short, became the most precious time that Bách Uyên had since the day he gave up the throne. He knew, somewhere out there, the Black Moon Food was still silently getting closer with each passing day, and the dark contract was still waiting for the moment to tighten a bit more of his daughter's vitality. But at least, in this present moment, in the middle of a remote small town called Vân Khê, he and his daughter had found a place, albeit temporary, to call home.