The older man leaned back in his chair, a twinkle in his eye. “Every story’s worth hearing, son. Especially from someone who’s probably seen as much as you clearly have. I’d like to know what is going on out there.”

  Kai nodded, feeling the weight of his past settle heavily on his shoulders. But, unfortunately, he couldn’t share the truth—not without risk. Revealing that he was a rogue cultivator, a fugitive from his former sect, would only invite danger, not just for himself but for anyone who might unknowingly aid him. So, he found himself in a difficult position, unable to say too much without giving himself away.

  Compounding the problem was the fact that he had been isolated in the wilderness for so long. His knowledge of recent events was limited, and his understanding of the local area was practically nonexistent. He couldn’t spin a tale about distant lands or grand adventures without risking inconsistencies that might raise suspicions. So, Kai decided to keep it simple and stick to what he knew—his time in the wilds.

  “I’ve been wandering the wilds for a long time now,” Kai began, his voice measured and calm. “I’m sure you know more about what’s out there than I do.”

  The boatman raised an eyebrow, his weathered face creasing into a thoughtful expression. “Wandering the wilds, have you?” he said, leaning forward slightly. “Hmm, I guess that’s why I didn’t see you come off a boat. You really wandered here through the woods?”

  Kai nodded again, his gaze steady but distant, as if the memories he was recounting were both vivid and painful. “That’s right. It’s been… a journey,” he said, his voice trailing off as he carefully chose his words. He began to weave a story for the boatman, one that was rooted in truth but carefully stripped of any details that might reveal his identity as a cultivator or the existence of his spirit beast companions.

  He spoke of how he had once lived in the territory of the Ember Sword Sect. He described fleeing his home when demonic cultivators began to invade, their presence turning the region into a land of fear and violence. Kai painted a picture of his long trek through the wilderness, of nights spent under the stars and days spent navigating treacherous terrain. He spoke of the hardships—the scarcity of food, the constant threat of wild beasts, and the loneliness of being so far from civilization.

  Throughout his tale, Kai was careful to omit anything that might give him away. He made no mention of his cultivation, his abilities, or the spirit beasts who had been his constant companions. Instead, he framed himself as an ordinary mortal, someone who had simply been caught in the crossfire of forces far beyond his control. It was a half-truth, but one that felt necessary to protect himself.

  By the time he finished, the boatman’s expression had shifted from curiosity to something deeper—a mix of admiration and sympathy.

  “You’ve been on one hell of a journey,” the man said, his voice tinged with respect. “The Ember Sword Sect territory is really far from here. That’s like a two to three year journey from here, but I suppose if you traverse the wilds like you have, it could be done a lot faster. I heard that the sect there was destroyed. All that’s left is a massive crater. Did you happen to see that?”

  Kai shook his head, his expression carefully neutral. “No, I wasn’t anywhere near their main sect grounds when it happened.”

  The boatman nodded, his face grim. “Aye, I should’ve figured you wouldn’t have seen it. No way they’d let a mortal into their main sect grounds. Although,” he added with a sigh, “it might have saved a lot of mortal lives that they didn’t. From what I’ve heard, the blast wiped out everything for miles…” He trailed off, shaking his head as if to dispel the thought.

  Kai remained silent, his chest tightening at the mention of the destruction. He had heard the rumors, of course, but hearing them confirmed by someone else made the reality feel even heavier. The Ember Sword Sect was gone, reduced to nothing but ash and memory. And while he had no love left for the sect that had once been his home, he still felt a very slight melancholy about it.

  The boatman seemed to sense Kai’s somber mood and quickly changed the subject. “Well, you’re here now, and that’s what matters. Kumitari might not be much, but it’s safe. The people here are good, I'm sure you can rest here for a while, get your bearings.”

  Kai managed a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thank you,” he said, his voice soft but sincere. He hesitated for a moment, then added, “Um, sir, is it okay if I ask you some questions?”

  The boatman nodded, pouring himself another cup of tea before gesturing for Kai to continue. “Of course. Ask away.”

  Kai leaned forward slightly, his expression earnest. “Could you tell me exactly where we are? I was fleeing north, but I don’t know where I am in relation to the Ember Sword Sect territory.”

  The boatman took a sip of his tea, his eyes thoughtful as he considered the question. “Well, you’ve traveled quite far,” he said after a moment. “Kumitari is part of the Liuhe region. A mostly quiet area, with several large mortal cities. Not many people passing through, unless they’re river folk like me or refugees like yourself.”

  Kai frowned slightly, his brow furrowing. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the Liuhe region.”

  The boatman chuckled, a warm, rumbling sound. “Yeah, you and a lot of other refugees. This entire region doesn’t have any association with cultivator sects like the Ember Sword Sect or its territory, where you're from. We operate autonomously, with some support from the Righteous Alliance when needed. But for the most part, we’re left alone by cultivators. This area has very little qi, you see, because it’s right beside Zan.”

  Kai’s eyes widened slightly at the mention of Zan, though he quickly schooled his expression back to neutrality. “Zan?” he repeated, his tone carefully neutral.

  The boatman nodded, unaware of the significance his words held for Kai. “Aye, Zan. It’s not far from here, though most folks avoid it. The land there is… strange. Unpredictable. Some say it’s cursed, others say it’s just the lack of qi. Either way, cultivators tend to steer clear of this region, which is why it’s become a haven for folks like you—people looking for a place to start over.”

  Kai absorbed this information quietly, his mind racing. He had been traveling blindly, driven by little more than a general direction and the hope of finding safety. To learn that he was so close to Zan was both thrilling and unnerving. But he kept his thoughts to himself, not wanting to reveal too much.

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  The boatman, mistaking Kai’s silence for uncertainty, gave him a reassuring smile. “You know, instead of going to Zan, you can stop your travels here if you want,” he said. “Kumitari might not be much, but it’s safe. And we could always use a capable hunter like yourself if you’re looking to settle down.”

  Kai blinked, caught off guard by the offer. “A hunter?” he repeated, his tone hesitant.

  The boatman nodded. “Aye. You’ve clearly got the skills to survive in the wilds, and we’ve got plenty of game in the forests around here. It’s honest work, and it’d give you a chance to build a life here. No one would ask too many questions, either. We’re used to folks coming here to start fresh.”

  Kai considered the offer, his mind turning over the possibilities. Settling down in Kunitari wouldn't guarantee he wouldn’t run into the righteous alliance. The man mentioned this region still had some support from the righteous alliance.

  For now, though, he simply nodded, offering the boatman a small smile. “Thank you. I’ll think about it,” Kai said, his tone thoughtful. Then, after a brief pause, he added, “Um, how’d you know I was heading to Zan?”

  The boatman chuckled, a knowing glint in his eye. “You’re not the only one fleeing toward Zan,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “There’s been a steady stream of refugees flooding into Liuhe for some time now, ever since the war started. Most of them head to one of the big cities in the region—usually to a place like Huanghe or Zhongtou—before continuing their journey to Zan. They don’t usually come this far out, to a small village like Kumitari. But then again,” he added with a shrug, “most of them don’t come through the wilderness like you did. They stick to the roads or travel by boat.”

  Kai’s brow furrowed as he processed this information. “Are those cities close?” he asked.

  The boatman nodded. “Aye, they are. It takes about four to six days by boat to get to either city, depending on the weather and the river’s mood. Huanghe’s to the east, and Zhongtou’s to the west. Both are bustling places. But they’re also crowded, and resources are stretched thin thanks to the sudden influx of people.”

  Before Kai could respond, the innkeeper reappeared, carrying a steaming bamboo basket. The aroma of freshly steamed buns wafted through the air, making Kai’s stomach growl despite himself. The innkeeper set the basket down in front of Kai with a warm smile. “Here, eat up,” he said, lifting the lid to reveal three large, fluffy baozi, their surfaces glistening slightly from the steam.

  Kai hesitated for only a moment before picking up one of the buns. The soft dough gave way to a generous filling of spiced meat, the flavors rich and savory. He took a bite, savoring the taste, before turning his attention back to the conversation. “What is happening with the war?” he asked, his mouth still half-full.

  The innkeeper’s expression darkened, and he exchanged a glance with the boatman before jumping into the conversation. “It’s bad,” he said, his voice low and heavy. “It doesn't matter if they're demonic or righteous cultivators, mortals like us suffer when cultivators start fighting. It’s hard to tell who’s winning, since the righteous alliance doesn't bother to tell us mortals anything, but the death toll… well, let’s just say it’s not something anyone likes to talk about. Refugees have been pouring into Liuhe, and it’s only getting worse.”

  Kai’s grip tightened on the baozi, his appetite momentarily forgotten. “How bad is it?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

  The boatman sighed, running a hand through his graying hair. “Bad enough that even places like Liuhe, which have always been safe, are starting to feel the effects. Supplies are running low, and tensions are high. Some folks are worried that the demonic cultivators might eventually turn their attention this way, looking for material for their dark cultivation, though I think we’re too far out of the way to be worth their time.”

  The innkeeper nodded in agreement, his brow furrowed with concern. “I also heard that the last time the demonic and righteous cultivators clashed like this, the conflict lasted hundreds of years. Entire regions were reduced to ash, and mortals like us were caught in the crossfire. If that’s true this time as well, I might have to consider leaving for Zan myself. Things are getting too unstable here, and I won’t risk my family.”

  The boatman leaned back in his chair, his weathered face creasing into a frown. “Hey now, it’s not that bad yet. The cultivators might be at each other’s throats, but they haven’t brought their war to our doorstep. Besides, where am I going to get your famous baozi if you leave? Are you really considering going to Zan? That cursed place? It’s no haven, old friend.”

  The innkeeper sighed, his hands resting on the worn wooden counter. “It’s only cursed for cultivators. But for mortals like us, it’s just another place to live. There are still some towns and cities, small as they may be. Better to live in peace there than to risk being caught in a cultivator’s war here.”

  The boatman shook his head, his tone skeptical. “Yeah, but those towns are tiny, smaller than our own village here. You won’t be able to get the same supplies there like you do here, living between Huanghe and Zhongtou. This region is rich with trade—spices, grains, fabrics. Zan is isolated. You’d be giving up everything you’ve built here.”

  The innkeeper’s expression darkened. “With this war brewing, I won’t be able to get my regular supplies anyway. Caravans are already avoiding the roads, and merchants are raising their prices. Spices are becoming harder to find, and without them, I can’t make my famous baozi for you or anyone else. Without you ferrying goods by the river we wouldn’t be getting any supplies into Kumitari right now. What good is staying here if I can’t run my inn properly?”

  Kai, who had been quietly listening to the exchange, leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. “Um, how far is Zan from here? And why is it cursed for cultivators? I’ve heard stories, but never anything clear,” he asked, curious to hear a locals perspective on Zan.

  The innkeeper turned to Kai, his expression softening slightly. “It’s about two weeks’ journey to the north, beyond the Black Veil Mountains. As for why it’s cursed, no one knows for sure. Some say it’s the work of an ancient god who despised the arrogance of cultivators. Others claim it’s a natural phenomenon, a place where the spiritual energy of the world is twisted and unusable. Whatever the reason, cultivators avoid it like the plague. Their techniques fail, their treasures become ordinary trinkets, and their strength fades. But for us mortals, it’s just… ordinary.”

  The boatman snorted, crossing his arms. “Ordinary, maybe, but it’s no place to start over. You’d be leaving behind everything—your inn, your reputation, your friends. And for what? A life in some backwater town where you’ll struggle to make ends meet?”

  The innkeeper’s gaze grew distant, as if he were already weighing his options. “Sometimes survival is more important than comfort. If the war escalates, this region will become a battlefield. I’d rather leave now, while I still can, than wait until it’s too late.”

  Kai frowned, his mind racing. “But if Zan is safe from cultivators, wouldn’t others have the same idea? Wouldn’t it become overcrowded?”

  The innkeeper shrugged. “Perhaps. But it’s a vast land, and most people are too afraid to go there. The journey itself is dangerous, and the stories of its curse keep many away. Still, if things get worse, I imagine more will take the risk.”

  The boatman sighed, his earlier defiance fading. “Well, if you do go, don’t expect me to visit. I’ve spent my whole life on these rivers, and I’m not about to abandon them for some cursed backwater. But… I’ll miss your baozi.”

  The innkeeper chuckled softly, though there was little humor in it. “And I’ll miss your endless complaints about the river’s currents. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Maybe the war will pass us by, and we’ll all laugh about this conversation in a year’s time.”

  Kai couldn’t help but smile faintly at the carefree banter between the three of them, a rare moment of lightness amidst the growing tension in the world. But as much as he enjoyed the conversation, he knew he couldn’t linger. The road to Zan was long, and time was not on his side. With a reluctant sigh, he straightened in his seat and turned to the innkeeper.

  “I must thank you, kind sir, for the food you’ve given me,” Kai said, his voice warm with gratitude. “Your hospitality has been more than I could have asked for. Please, allow me to offer something in return to repay your kindness.”

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