Ren Tianhe woke Ling Chen before sunrise.
The sky was still dark, and frost coated the grass across the burial hill. Even the roosters had not begun their morning calls. The world was in that quiet hour where night had not fully left and day had not yet begun.
Ling Chen rubbed his eyes as he stepped outside the hut.
"Master Ren… it's still night."
"All the better," Ren Tianhe replied. "The world speaks more clearly when people stop talking."
He handed Ling Chen a waterskin and began walking toward the forest path beyond the hill.
They walked in silence.
The deeper they traveled, the quieter everything became. The village sounds faded first. Then insects. Then even the wind softened. Eventually the forest itself felt… still, as if they had stepped into a place untouched by ordinary time.
After nearly two hours, they reached a clearing surrounded by stone outcrops. Nothing grew there — no grass, no flowers, not even moss. The earth was bare and smooth, as if something beneath it prevented life from taking root.
Ren Tianhe stopped.
"We will rest here."
Ling Chen sat on a flat rock. The air felt different — heavier, but also clearer. Breathing felt easier and harder at the same time.
Ren Tianhe looked at him carefully.
"You have already sensed echoes," he said. "Today you will try something else. Close your eyes."
Ling Chen obeyed.
"Do not force anything. Do not think of power or breathing techniques. Simply listen."
Ling Chen frowned slightly.
"I've been listening my whole life."
"Not like this," Ren Tianhe said gently. "Do not listen with your ears."
Ling Chen took a slow breath.
At first, there was nothing. Only darkness behind his eyelids.
He waited.
Minutes passed.
His legs began to ache from sitting still. He was about to open his eyes when—
He heard water.
Faint.
Distant.
Flowing.
Ling Chen's brow tightened. There was no river nearby. They were deep in the forest hills.
The sound grew clearer.
A steady current moving slowly but endlessly.
He focused on it.
It wasn't above ground.
It was below.
Far below.
Beneath the rock. Beneath the soil. Beneath the mountain itself.
Ling Chen's breathing quickened.
"It's huge…" he whispered, eyes still closed. "A river… but not water."
Ren Tianhe's expression changed immediately.
"What do you feel?"
Ling Chen concentrated.
The "river" did not splash or churn. It moved smoothly, calmly — like time passing. It did not carry water. It carried presence.
Life.
Motion.
Possibility.
He opened his eyes suddenly.
"It's everywhere!"
Ren Tianhe stared at him.
"You truly perceive it without guidance…"
Ling Chen looked around, confused.
"What is it?"
Ren Tianhe spoke slowly.
"That is an Aether Vein. The breath of existence flowing through the world itself. Cultivators spend years trying to sense even a trace of it."
Ling Chen blinked.
"I wasn't trying."
Ren Tianhe nodded.
"I know."
The old cultivator looked at the earth beneath their feet, troubled.
"You are not learning cultivation, Ling Chen."
He paused.
"Cultivation is recognizing you."
Ling Chen did not understand the weight of those words.
But Ren Tianhe did.
And for the first time since meeting the boy… he felt uncertain about the future.