The village of Starfall was nothing but a cluster of wooden houses nestled between rolling hills and a silver river that cut into the land like a blade. Life was simple here: at dawn, farmers rose; through the day, children chased each other, barefoot, in the fields; and when night fell, the villagers looked upward to the endless sky, whispering prayers to the stars that watched over them even when they knew none would answer.

Among those children was a boy named Xing Yun.

He was neither the strongest nor the fastest; when the village elders tested the children for spiritual roots, the crystal stone glowed weakly in his hand before going dark again. Some laughed and called him talentless. Others pitied him with a shake of their head. In a world where cultivation meant everything, being born without it made one almost as good as not being born because nobody will protect you if you don't have a powerful background-you have to protect yourself.

But he didn't seem to mind this either: carried buckets of well water for the elderly, helped his mother grind herbs for medicine, was playing with other children in the field, and was often sneaking into the hills just to lie in the grass and stare at the sky, gazing at its beauty and feeling like the stars are living-but fuck that, who cares.

"Why do you always look up there?" his friend Liang once asked, kicking a pebble at him.

"Because," Xing Yun said with a smile, "it's beautiful and keeps my heart at peace, and I feel like they're calling out to me-but who knows? Maybe one day they'll answer back."

Liang laughed, thinking it nonsense. But Xing Yun's gaze never left the heavens. In his eyes was a quiet stubbornness, as though he already knew that the sky held more than what anyone in their little village could imagine.

It was one evening, as the sun had already sunk into the hills, stretching long shadows over the fields; everybody in the village was still busy with their day work when the village scout came back, hardly breathing. A band of wandering bandits had ridden into Starfall. Their eyes were as sharp as their blades, and they had no time for mercy. The villagers ran, scattering to flee for their lives, but Xing Yun froze when one of the men cornered him against the wall.

"Pretty boy," the bandit sneered, raising his sword. "Let's see how long you can smile."

Xing Yun's legs began shaking. Without a weapon or strength, the will in his heart to live was very strong. His chest was burning as he searched for his mother with his eyes but was unable to find her; then he grew angry, and it was as though in response to his anger, something snapped within him, a stirring of something deep inside him, yet he didn't understand what it was.

The ground trembled faintly beneath his feet, just as the blade was about to fall. A light, soft and silver as starlight, spread in a circle around him. The bandit's sword struck the light and then it shattered, the fragments flying back into his own face.

The man howled, blood streaming from his cheek. Xing Yun stumbled back, staring at the faint glow that faded into the earth.

No one else noticed. The villagers only saw the bandit fall, clutching his broken weapon. They thought it luck. They thought the boy had been spared by chance.

But Xing Yun knew better: something or someone had protected him. And, unbeknown to him, well beyond the hills and rivers of the mundane earth, eyes that burned brighter than suns were watching.

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