The mist slept quietly across the Tianhuan Mountains.
It wrapped around ancient peaks like silk, moving slowly, whispering stories no one had heard in ten thousand years. The air was calm, not because the world lacked life, but because life itself had paused as if it is holding its breath.
And through that mist… a man walked.
He was Barefoot.
and Unhurried.
His robes were a pale gray, loose and weathered, brushing lightly against the earth without leaving footprints. Long black hair flowed behind him, bound by a single faded cord. His eyes, half-lidded, held neither ambition nor sorrow—only silence.
The trees leaned away from him.
The birds flew higher.
Even the wind bent gently to the side, unwilling to disturb his path.
He did not speak and smile.
He simply walked until he found an old pine tree at the edge of a cliff, then sat beneath it.
He sit Cross-legged in his Calm behavior. As if he had always belonged there.
His name was forgotten by the world.
But the heavens had not forgotten.
His name was Hun Ye.
Ten thousand years ago, he stood above gods. He crossed tribulation and cracked the sky. He became what the world could not understand—and what the heavens refused to accept.
And so, the heavens struck.
It was not to test him, but to erase him.
But they(heaven) failed.
He lived.
He was shattered, wounded, hollowed out by divine anger, he sealed himself in the folds of the void—not to recover power, but to recover peace.
He no longer desired to rise.
He had already been too high.
He only wished to sit quietly… to drink tea again… to feel the sky.
Now, ten thousand years later, the seal had quietly unraveled.
And he had returned not as a ruler and not as a god.
Just a man who had walked too far and wanted to rest.
He reached for a gourd at his side and poured a slow stream of tea into a chipped clay cup.
No spiritual energy surged. No divine light bloomed. But even so, the aroma of that tea made the wind grow still again.
Somewhere in the valley below, the birds stopped singing.
Hun Ye raised the cup to his lips.
He drank.
And the sky trembled, just a little.
Behind him, branches cracked.
A boy came running through the trees, gasping for breath. Mud on his knees, scratches on his arms, fear in his eyes.
He froze when he saw the man under the tree.
"I—"
Hun Ye looked at him very calmly.
The boy stopped speaking. The fear in his eyes didn't vanish, but it softened. He felt, somehow, like he had run into something more eternal than danger.
"I think they're chasing me," the boy whispered.
Hun Ye nodded once.
"Three of them. You still have some time. Sit and drink tea with me."
"W-what?"
"If you keep running, they'll catch you tired. If you sit now, you might live."
The boy looked uncertain. Then, sat beside the man.
Hun Ye handed him a second cup of tea. The boy took it with shaking hands.
"I'm not strong," he said.
Hun Ye nodded again.
"That's fine."
Three shadows emerged through the trees moments later. They were Bandit scarred and armed, bloodlust burning in their eyes.
They froze at the sight of the man sitting beneath the tree.
"Old man. Hand him over."
Hun Ye did not speak.
The leader stepped forward.
"Are you deaf? I said—"
He didn't finish his sentence.
His body disappeared. Just like that.
It had no sound, no scream and not even a flash of light.
One moment he existed.
The next, he was gone.
The other two stared, pale.
One tried to run.
He fell asleep mid-step, hitting the ground without a thud.
The other simply collapsed, unconscious. There was no blood no wounds but only dreams.
Hun Ye poured himself another cup.
"Drink," he said to the boy. "It gets cold."
The boy was still staring.
"You didn't even…"
"No," Hun Ye said gently. "I didn't."
The boy looked down at the cup in his hands.
"…Are you a cultivator?"
"No."
"Then what are you?"
Hun Ye looked at the sky again. The clouds drifted slower now.
"Someone who used to be something. Now, I'm only someone who remembers."
The boy said nothing after that.
They sat in silence as the sun moved across the sky.
The tea was warm, and the mountain was quiet.
And far away—across the continent—ancient formations flickered for the first time in thousands of years. Sealed artifacts trembled without warning. Statues of divine beings cracked. Diviners woke up from nightmares.
Something old had opened its eyes.
Someone too strong to name had taken a breath.
And none of them knew yet… that he had already returned.
He returned not with war and not with fury.
Just with tea… and stillness.