Anhe City.
Mr. Zhang just hoped that he could see him again soon.
He didn't want to wait until it was too late—until he couldn't even lift his hammer anymore—only for his son to return, travel-worn, and say to a decrepit old father, "I'm back."
...
In a clothier's shop on the west side of the city, an old woman with white hair was arranging a bolt of silk.
Her youngest daughter was the greatest pride of her life. She always said that one day, she would become a great heroine who could fly through the heavens and move through the earth.
She didn't understand Cultivation. She only hoped her daughter had enough to eat and warm clothes to wear up on the mountain. If Cultivation was too hard, she hoped she would come home early, find a good husband, and live out her life in peace.
...
In a more distant village, a young boy stood on a ridge between fields, pointing toward Qingxu Mountain and asking his mother:
