011 His Nightmare [Part 1]

  One Well Village.

  A small, unassuming place.

  A village hidden from the grand stage of the world.

  It was a place where people lived their lives simply, without the concerns of martial cultivation, demonic arts, or celestial dao.

  And in this village lived Nee Chen.

  At eighteen years old, he had no grand ambitions, no lofty dreams, no desire for power.

  Nee Chen only wanted one thing—a peaceful life.

  Tuk

  Tuk

  Tuk

  The sound of his hoe hitting the soil echoed through the quiet fields.

  His hands were calloused, his back drenched in sweat, but his heart was content.

  He had inherited his late grandfather’s farm, and though the work was hard, it was his work.

  Nee Chen planned to till the land, sow the seeds, and reap the harvest.

  Then, he would do it again.

  And again.

  Until old age claimed him.

  His dream was simple—to marry, to raise a family, and to die peacefully, surrounded by his children and grandchildren.

  Others in the world pursued immortality, but he wanted none of that.

  And he wasn’t alone.

  The entire One Well Village shared this sentiment.

  Unlike other villages that admired or envied cultivators, One Well Village had a different mindset.

  They avoided attention.

  They feared power.

  They wanted to live in obscurity, far from the chaos of cultivation.

  No sects.

  No martial warriors.

  No immortal daoists.

  Just quiet farming.

  While some villages dreamed of greatness, One Well Village did everything to stay unnoticed.

  The elders often said, "The less they see us, the better."

  Nee Chen never questioned it.

  It was just how things were.

  “Big bro, look~! I’m a cultivator! Shu~ shu~ shu~!”

  Nee Chen sighed, rubbing his temples.

  A small boy, no older than seven, was jumping around with a wooden sword, waving it in the air like a fool.

  “Little Gao,” Nee Chen muttered, irritated. “Shut up. I’m trying to work.”

  “But big brother Chen! Don’t you think cultivators are awesome!?”

  Nee Chen snorted.

  Last month, a real cultivator had come to the village.

  A disciple from a righteous sect, asking about demonic cultivators.

  The villagers had welcomed him politely, but only barely—just enough to avoid offending him and make him leave quickly.

  But of course, Little Gao had to ruin everything.

  Nee Chen still remembered the embarrassment of that day.

  The moment the cultivator arrived, Little Gao had dropped to his knees and begged to be taken as a disciple.

  "Kowtowing like an idiot… He even cried…"

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  The village elders had to drag the brat away, threatening him with a beating.

  It had been shameful.

  If Little Gao had angered the cultivator, things could have ended badly.

  But the boy hadn’t learned his lesson.

  "Come on, big bro! Didn’t you see it? The cultivator could fly on swords!"

  Nee Chen rolled his eyes.

  “Shut up. Will flying on swords feed you?”

  “Uh…” Little Gao hesitated. “I—I don’t know.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  With that, the conversation ended.

  Little Gao eventually ran off to find his friends, leaving Nee Chen in peace.

  With the brat gone, Nee Chen returned to his work.

  The repetitive motion of farming allowed his mind to wander.

  And it wandered to her.

  "Hmmm… Xiang Ya… I wonder if she’s doing well…"

  A smug smile crept onto his face.

  Perhaps he should bring her some vegetables.

  A gift from his hard work.

  Yes.

  That would be a good idea.

  Nee Chen wiped the sweat off his brow as he made his way back to his hut. His daily work on the farm was done, and his body was exhausted. The sun had begun its descent, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. The air was cool, a welcome relief after a long day under the scorching sun.

  He reached his home—a humble hut made of wood, just big enough to fit his needs. It was nothing fancy, but it was his.

  Opening the door, his eyes immediately fell on the mess inside.

  Wood shavings, scattered tools, and unfinished carvings littered the floor. Wooden dust clung to the air, giving his home a faint earthy scent. His half-finished works—figurines, small toys, and decorative carvings—were spread across the small table in the corner.

  "Hmmm… I almost died during the last harvest," he muttered to himself as he walked inside.

  It had been a harsh winter last year. He had spent too much time carving and not enough time stocking up food. He had made a mistake—selling too much of his produce and leaving himself with almost nothing. If not for his kind neighbors, he would have starved to death.

  That was a lesson he would not forget.

  "I have to be careful about balancing my time," he mused, picking up a carving knife from the table. "Farming is stable… but carving brings in extra money."

  Both were important, but one could not replace the other.

  As he absentmindedly sorted through the scattered wood pieces, his thoughts wandered—again—to a certain girl.

  Xiang Ya.

  His childhood friend. His playmate. The most beautiful maiden in the village.

  Would he have a chance to marry her?

  Nee Chen sighed.

  Maybe… if he had enough money.

  Maybe… if he worked hard enough.

  Maybe… if he proved himself worthy.

  A dumb grin spread across his face as he imagined it.

  “He… hehe… hehehe…”

  A house with a big field. Children running around. Xiang Ya waiting for him after a long day of work.

  But then he quickly shook his head.

  "Enough fantasizing," he muttered, forcing himself to focus. "Dreaming won't make it real. I need to work for it."

  He clenched his fists.

  "I will make it happen! I will work hard! I am the man!"

  With that thought, all exhaustion faded from his mind.

  His body was sore, his muscles ached, but he ignored it.

  Hard work was all he knew.

  If there was even a chance that his efforts could lead him to a better future, then he would take it.

  He laughed to himself.

  "That’s a funny way to put it. A chance to increase my chances..."

  Shaking his head, he grabbed a new block of oak and sat down.

  Nee Chen picked up his carving knife and got to work.

  With each precise cut, he shaped the wood into something more.

  A small fox. A tiny rabbit. A fierce tiger.

  Figurines, toys, decorations—his hands moved with experience and skill.

  He wasn't just good at carving. He was excellent at it.

  The traveling merchant would be coming soon, and Nee Chen planned to sell as much as he could.

  If he could earn a little extra money, then he would be one step closer to his goal.

  One step closer to Xiang Ya.

  The night passed in silence, interrupted only by the rhythmic sounds of carving.

  He worked tirelessly, focused only on his craft.

  His fingers grew sore, his shoulders stiff, but he didn’t stop.

  He only stopped when his body could no longer keep up.

  At the cusp of midnight, exhaustion finally overtook him.

  His head drooped, his vision blurred, and before he knew it…

  Nee Chen fell asleep, surrounded by the scent of fresh wood and the fruits of his labor.

  ***

  **

  *

  Nee Chen stirred awake in the middle of the night. His body was sore, his arms felt heavy, and his vision was still hazy from exhaustion. He blinked a few times, trying to make sense of his surroundings.

  Then he heard it.

  Loud crying.

  WAAAAA~ WAAAaaaaaAAAAAAaaaaaaa~!

  Nee Chen groaned, rubbing his temples. It was a beautiful night—calm, peaceful, the stars shining brightly overhead. But how could he enjoy it with that wailing outside his door?

  He sighed.

  Only one person could cry this obnoxiously.

  With sluggish movements, he got up from his makeshift bed, walked toward the door, and opened it.

  Just as he expected, Lu Gao came running straight at him, tears and snot streaming down his face.

  "Big bro! Waaaa~ waaaaa~!"

  Nee Chen barely had time to react before the brat latched onto his arm, smearing his tears all over his clothes.

  This kid…

  With a deadpan expression, Nee Chen stared down at the crying mess of a child.

  "This?" he muttered in disbelief.

  Lu Gao hiccupped between sobs. "Buojing and Guiren kept calling me an idiot! They… they said I could never become a cultivator!"

  Nee Chen wanted to say, Well, they’re not wrong… but he held his tongue.

  Instead, he inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, and forced himself to be patient.

  'Breathe in, breathe out…'

  He was this close to stuffing the brat into the village well, but he suppressed the thought.

  "Why come here, then?" Nee Chen asked, his voice flat. "It’s not like I can turn you into a cultivator."

  Lu Gao froze. His big, teary eyes blinked up at Nee Chen.

  "..."

  "..."

  For a moment, silence stretched between them.

  Then—

  WAAAAA~ WAAAaaaaaAAAAAAaaaaaaa~!

  Nee Chen flinched at the renewed wailing. His neighbors were definitely going to complain in the morning.

  He was very, very tempted to smack the brat.

  The village chief had done it plenty of times to discipline this little troublemaker, but Nee Chen… Nee Chen was too soft-hearted for his own good.

  Instead, he tried talking some sense into him.

  "Stop. Stop. Stop!" he pleaded.

  But Lu Gao was too lost in his crying fit to listen.

  WAAAAA~ WAAAaaaaaAAAAAAaaaaaaa~!

  Nee Chen sighed.

  Tonight was going to be a long night.