Next day.
Arthev didn't wake up, he simply switched from rest mode to active mode.
His eyes snapped open, instantly scanning the wooden beams of the ceiling. No hostile signatures. No killing intent. Just the smell of dried herbs and morning dew.
He sat up, checking his internal state. His Soul Power, dense and refined at Rank 33, circulated smoothly through his meridians. The fatigue of the Dragontooth Mountains had vanished.
He swung his legs off the cot, his feet making no sound on the wooden floor.
He pushed the door open and stepped out into the morning light.
Still Heart Village was already awake. The mist had receded to the upper peaks, leaving the valley floor bathed in clear, crisp sunlight.
"You sleep like a wolf, boy," a voice rasped from the side.
Arthev turned. Elder Mu sat on a bench, whittling a piece of wood. The old Spirit Ancestor didn't look up.
"One eye open?" Mu asked, blowing wood shavings off his carving.
"It keeps me alive," Arthev replied, adjusting his sleeves. "Thank you for the meal and the bed, Elder. I should be moving on."
'Agreed,' Shukaku grunted. 'This place smells too much like flowers. It makes my nose itch. Let's go find a desert.'
Mu paused his knife work. He pointed the blade toward the village square.
"The mist is thickest in the morning. You'd walk off a cliff before you made it a mile. Besides, the festival preparations are heavy work. We could use a young man with Spirit Power."
Arthev frowned slightly. "I'm not a laborer."
'Tell him!' Shukaku roared. 'You are the host of the Great One-Tail! You do not carry sticks for humans! You crush them!'
"And we aren't a hotel," Mu countered with a smirk, finally looking up. "Work for your breakfast. Fair exchange?"
Arthev weighed the options. Leaving now meant fighting the magnetic interference in the fog. Staying meant free food and conserving energy.
'Manual labor builds character,' Isobu whispered timidly. 'And... the soup was good.'
"Fair," Arthev nodded, ignoring Shukaku's indignation. "Where do I start?"
[One Hour Later]
An hour later, Arthev found himself carrying massive timber beams for the festival stage. To the villagers, the beams required three men to lift. To Arthev, they weighed about as much as a bag of feathers.
"Over there! No, to the left! The other left!"
Arthev pivoted, easily holding a thick log on one shoulder. He looked at the frantic woman directing the construction.
"Here?"
"Yes! Perfect!" The woman wiped sweat from her brow. "Saints above, child, what do they feed you out there? You're stronger than our blacksmith."
"Cultivation," Arthev said simply, sliding the beam into place with precise geometric alignment.
'It's barely a warmup,' Matatabi noted. 'Your muscle fibers are reinforced by our passive soul power leakage. You could lift this entire stage if you wanted to.'
"Well, Cultivator or not, take a break," she waved him off. "Go get some water from the well. Lian is over there washing the fruits."
Arthev dusted his hands off. "Lian?"
"My daughter. The one with the red ribbon. Can't miss her."
Arthev nodded and turned toward the village well. He walked with his usual efficiency, eyes scanning the perimeter out of habit.
'Three targets at 2 o'clock,' Matatabi listed playfully. 'Threat level: Zero. They are children playing tag.'
'I could trip them,' Shukaku suggested.
'No,' Arthev thought back firmly.
He reached the stone well. A girl was there, her back to him, struggling with a heavy wooden bucket filled with water and floating apples.
"Need a hand?" Arthev asked, his voice low.
The girl jumped.
Her grip slipped on the wet wood. The heavy bucket tipped, threatening to spill the morning's work into the mud.
Gravity took hold. The bucket fell.
SWISH.
Arthev didn't run. He blurred.
He closed the three-meter gap in a fraction of second. His hand shot out, snatching the rim of the bucket inches from the ground.
Not a single drop spilled.
"Careful," Arthev said, stabilizing the bucket and setting it on the stone rim. "It's heavier than it looks."
"Oh! Thank you, I—"
The girl turned around, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I was just daydreaming and..."
She looked up.
Arthev froze.
Thump-thump
His heart, usually beating at a slow, controlled rhythm, slammed against his ribs. The breath trapped in his throat.
The girl, Lian, was about his age, maybe twelve or thirteen. She had dark hair tied back with a faded red ribbon. Her skin was sun-kissed, her hands red from the cold water.
But it was the face.
The curve of the jaw. The small mole just under her left eye. And the smile, that apologetic, bright, eye-crinkling smile.
Sarah.
The name from his past life echoed in his skull like a gunshot. It was her. It was exactly her. The elder sister he had left behind on Earth when he somehow transmigrated.
The one person who had that hellish life bearable.
'Arthev?' Matatabi's voice sharpened instantly. 'Heart rate spike detected. Adrenaline surging. Are we under attack? Is it a Genjutsu?'
'I see no enemy,' Isobu panicked. 'Why did we freeze? Is it a poison?'
Arthev couldn't answer them. He stared, losing their usual cold composure. He felt like he had been punched in the gut.
Lian waved a hand in front of his face. "Hello? Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Arthev blinked, the illusion shattering but the resemblance remaining. He took a sharp breath, forcing his composure back.
"I... No. You just remind me of someone."
Lian tilted her head. "Someone you liked?"
Arthev looked away, gripping the stone rim of the well until his knuckles turned white.
"Someone I lost."
The playful air around Lian vanished. Her expression softened instantly. She reached out, placing a wet, cool hand on his clenched fist.
"I'm sorry," she said gently. "I didn't mean to pry."
'The girl is touching us,' Shukaku growled low. 'She is weak. Why are you letting a weakling touch you? Snap her hand.'
'Shut up, Shukaku!' Arthev roared internally, his mental voice shaking with a fury that surprised even the One-Tail into silence.
Arthev looked at her hand, then back at her face. The kindness was genuine. There was no deception in her micro-expressions.
"It was a long time ago," Arthev lied. It felt like yesterday. He cleared his throat and stepped back, breaking the contact.
"I'm Arthev."
"Lian," she beamed, the sadness replaced by a welcoming warmth. "Mom said a 'stray wolf' wandered in last night. That you?"
"I prefer 'traveler'," Arthev corrected, crossing his arms.
"Traveler, stray wolf, same thing," Lian laughed. She grabbed an apple from the bucket and tossed it to him.
Arthev caught it without looking.
"So, Arthev the Traveler," she said, hoisting the bucket again, though she struggled.
"Since you saved the apples, are you going to help me carry them to the square? Or are you going to just stand there looking mysterious and cool?"
Arthev stared.
The sass. Even the teasing tone was the same.
A crack formed in the wall he had built around himself for twelve years.
He sighed, a sound that was less annoyed and more resigned. He stepped forward and took the heavy bucket from her hands effortlessly.
"Lead the way," he said.
Lian grinned, skipping ahead of him. "You know, you're strong! Are you a Spirit Master? What's your rank? Can you break rocks? Can you fly?"
"Walk," Arthev said, falling into step beside her. "And rank 33."
Lian stopped and spun around, walking backward to face him. "Thirty-three? Wait, like... Spirit Elder thirty-three? You're my age!"
"I started early."
"That's amazing!" Her eyes sparkled "The strongest person in the village is Elder Mu, and he's forty-something. You could protect the whole village by yourself!"
Arthev felt a strange weight in his chest at those words. Protect.
"I'm not a guard, Lian," he muttered, looking straight ahead.
"No," she agreed, turning back around and humming a soft tune. "But you're here. And in Still Heart Village, that means you're family for as long as you stay."
Arthev listened to her hum. It wasn't the song from Earthbhe had known, but the melody was simple and comforting. He looked at the back of her head, the red ribbon fluttering in the breeze.
For the first time since he arrived in this dog-eat-dog world of Douluo Dalu, Arthev didn't check his surroundings for threats. He just watched the girl walking in front of him.
"Family," he whispered to himself, the word tasting strange and bitter on his tongue.
'Family...' Isobu echoed in the dark water. 'A pack?'
"Did you say something?" Lian called out.
"I asked if these apples are for eating or decoration," Arthev spoke up, his voice a little lighter than before.
"For eating! But not yet!" she laughed.
"Hurry up, Wolf-boy! The festival starts tomorrow!"
Arthev tightened his grip on the bucket handle. He followed her into the sunlight.
'Just for the festival,' he told himself. 'I'll stay just until the festival is over.'
'Careful, kid,' Matatabi warned gently. 'The higher you climb into the light, the longer the fall back into the dark.'
Arthev ignored the cat. For once, he wanted to believe the fall wouldn't come.
To be continued.....