Chapter 7 — The Prophet Awakens: Shedding the Worthless Shell

On the western edge of Bắcương, where the old forest borders the rugged rocky mountains, there is a small thatched house hidden behind a bamboo grove, rarely visited by many people. The owner of the house is an old woman named Vân Khinh Nhược, who has lived alone for more than thirty years, only occasionally going down the mountain to exchange medicine for rice with nearby villagers. It is rumored that she was a good physician in her youth, but for some reason chose to live in seclusion, not caring about worldly matters.

No one knew that, more than a hundred years ago - even though she only looked like an old woman in her seventies thanks to a special nourishment method learned from her time as the youngest disciple of the Thien Co Pavilion - she was lucky to escape the disaster of sect destruction because at that time her master sent her away to learn more about medicine and was not present at the headquarters on that fateful night.

Tonight, a loud knock on the door rang out, pulling her out of her restless sleep.

"Who is there?" She opened the door a crack, the flickering oil lamplight clearly illuminating a man leaning against the doorframe, one shoulder bleeding, his face pale from exhaustion.

That's Vọng Thần. A few hours ago, he secretly intervened in another Nam Xuyên ambush on a Bắcương patrol near the western border, using his body to block a sword blow that would have killed the patrol leader. He promptly neutralized most of the force with internal attacks, but still could not avoid a shoulder injury, and now, he was so exhausted that he no longer had the strength to return to Nguyệt Trạch without being detected.

"Sorry... sorry for disturbing the old lady in the middle of the night," he whispered. "I... just need a temporary bandage, I'll go right away," Vân Khinh Nhược said nothing, just quietly helped him into the house, placed him on the only bamboo bed, and then began treating the wound with the skillful movements of a person who has practiced medicine for decades.

But when she lifted up his sleeve to bandage him, her eyes suddenly stopped. On Vọng Thần's wrist, a faint tattoo that had almost faded over the years appeared under the light of an oil lamp - an eye in the middle of a crescent moon, surrounded by seven small stars.

Vân Khinh Nhược's hand trembled for a moment, but she quickly regained composure and continued bandaging as if nothing had happened. That was the mark of Thien Co Pavilion - a mark that was only engraved on the hands of disciples who had completed the basic training course, something she thought had disappeared along with the entire group more than a hundred years ago.

"The wound isn't deep, but you lost a lot of blood," she spoke up, trying to keep her voice calm. "Who are you, why are you injured in the middle of the night?"

"Just... met a robber on the way home," Vọng Thần replied, his voice was still weak but his eyes were alert again, observing the old woman's reaction discreetly.

"Ordinary robbers don't use swordsmanship with methodical moves like this wound," Vân Khinh Nhược said, her eyes sharper than her old appearance. "And you stopped the bleeding by channeling energy in a method I've only seen... a long time ago."

Vọng Thần was silent. He knew he had been careless in his exhaustion, revealing a trace that should have been hidden more carefully.

"I don't mean to pry into your personal affairs," Vân Khinh Nhược continued, her voice softening. "It's just that it's been a long time since I've met someone who reminds me of things I thought were forgotten. You just rest here for the night and leave tomorrow morning."

"Thank you old lady." He bowed his head, but he couldn't help but feel wary.

The next morning, when Vọng Thần had recovered enough to leave, Vân Khinh Nhược gave him a small packet of medicine. "Take this, just in case you need it. And..." She hesitated for a moment, her eyes looking straight at him meaningfully. "If the day comes when you need a place to say things you can't say to anyone else, this house is always open," Vọng Thần paused for a moment, then nodded slightly, said nothing more, turned and left. But in his heart, a feeling of both relief and insecurity rose at the same time - relief because perhaps he had found someone who could understand the burden he was carrying, but insecurity because the secret he had kept for more than twenty years was now known to another person, even if not completely.

***

Returning to Nguyệt Trạch, Vọng Thần tried to hide his shoulder injury by wearing an extra layer of clothing and pretending to be stumbling drunk so that no one would notice his somewhat stiff gait. But Tuyết Doanh, with the sophistication of someone who had observed him for six years, still noticed something unusual.

"Where did you go all night and not come back?" She asked as he entered the yard, her voice unable to hide her suspicion.

"Ah... I got drunk at the pub next door and fell asleep there." He smiled wryly, trying to avoid her sharp eyes.

Tuyết Doanh stepped closer, her eyes glancing over his shoulder - where the outer layer of his shirt was slightly bulging more unusually than usual. "Are you injured?"

"No, it's nothing." He took a step back, but it was too late.

Tuyết Doanh quickly pulled down his outer layer, revealing the white bandage wrapped around his shoulder, already soaked in some dried blood. Her face suddenly changed color.

"Who hurt you like this?" Her voice was completely serious, lacking the usual sarcasm.

"I... I just slipped and fell into the thorn bush." He tried to lie, but even he himself could hear the clumsiness of his explanation.

"Falling into a thorn bush causes a wound that needs to be bandaged so carefully?" She looked straight into his eyes, her eyes were both angry and worried. "Cố Vọng Thần, do you think I'm so stupid that I can't recognize the difference between a thorn scratch and a sword cut?"

He remained silent, not knowing how to respond without revealing more than he wanted to reveal.

Tuyết Doanh sighed, her anger gradually turning into a deep fatigue. "I'm not forcing you to tell the truth right now. But you have to understand, if you're in danger out there, little Tiểu Nguyệt will lose her father, and I..." She stopped, as if she herself was surprised by what she was about to say. "I won't accept that easily either."

That sentence, although short and somewhat hesitant, still shook Vọng Thần's heart more strongly than any sword blow he had ever suffered. This is the first time after six years of living together that Tuyết Doanh revealed a little something beyond duty and responsibility.

"I will be more careful," he replied softly, his gentle eyes looking at her, a gentleness so genuine that Tuyết Doanh had to turn away to hide the confusion that suddenly rose in her heart.

"Go inside and change the bandage so it's clean," she said, her voice trying to return to its usual coldness, but the steps leading him inside were much gentler than usual.

***

While changing his bandage, Tuyết Doanh worked silently with skillful hands, her eyes occasionally discreetly gliding across his face. She realized, under the light of the oil lamp, that this man's face, although not conventionally handsome, had something calm and profound that she had never paid close attention to in the past six years - perhaps because she had never really looked at him with non-judgmental eyes.

"Vọng Thần," she suddenly spoke up when she finished bandaging, "have you ever regretted being forced to marry me? A cold princess, who only knows politics all day, has never treated you like a real husband."

The unexpected question made Vọng Thần stunned. He looked at her, his eyes containing a sincerity that he rarely revealed beyond his familiar naive shell.

"Never," he replied, his voice quiet but firm. "Do you know, before I met you, I lived for more than twenty years like a shadow, without a home, without relatives, without a single reason to wake up every morning. Since the day I was brought here, although at first I saw it as a strange arrangement of fate, gradually, you and Tiểu Nguyệt have become the only reason why I want to continue living."

Tuyết Doanh was stunned by that unexpected confession, not knowing how to respond. She was used to the image of a lazy, heartless Vọng Thần, never thinking that behind that shell there was such a deep loneliness.

"You..." She was about to say something, but then stopped, just stood up and gathered her bandages. "Rest early. There's still a lot to worry about tomorrow."

But when she walked out of the room, closing the door behind her, Tuyết Doanh still stood still for a long time in the hallway, her hand gently placed on her chest, feeling her heart beat inexplicably faster than usual. What was this feeling, she wondered, that she had never once experienced with this man in the past six years?