The flame was gone. 

That was fine, it was used to it by now. 

The flame wasn’t always there. It was a sad understanding which shocked the first time it hit. The enlightenment was tragic, for the burning fire wouldn’t always be there to coddle it. 

The warmth wouldn’t be eternally here, but it would always come back. 

That was what it told itself, to keep away the crushing loneliness. It didn’t want it back, it liked it here, the coziness and the… feelings were nice. 

It didn’t know exactly what feelings were, only that loneliness was bad, and the flame gave it good feelings. 

That was all it needed. 

The trail of embers was there—the great flame had left recently, and left behind some of its heat. It approached it, curious. 

Then it snuggled in it, happiness bubbling from within. 

It was fast gone, but it was enough. It had learned how to deal with the terrifying cold. 

But once the mellowness was gone, it found itself unoccupied. And while before, it would have just slept—in order to pass time—it didn’t want to do that anymore. No, instead, it was curious. 

Curious about the great outside.   

Inside, it was the tree. It was also the wall. It was the roof, the wood which burned and created light, the water which flowed amongst the stones, the leaves which flew upward before swinging to the ground, and the blades of grass dancing with the wind. It was all of it. 

But outside? It was nothing. No one. 

And, it, wanted to be. 

Because the flame… was. But the flame was, also outside. Why wasn’t it the same way? 

If the rock standing outside wasn’t it… then who was it? 

If the tree growing outside wasn’t it… then who was it?

Home.

The word suddenly hit. It whispered in the back like a smooth suggestion, flowing in one’s ear. It was the rough love of a father, the first, and only time the words ‘I love you’ slipped past his lips. 

But it didn’t feel right... 

Because it wasn’t the truth. 

It wasn’t home… it had never been home. It panicked, regretting asking itself such questions, for now, they could never be forgotten. They stayed there, like illnesses that couldn’t be cured, and perturbed the inner peace it achieved.

Home. 

There, it whispered again. Like the calming words of a mother, reassuring her child that everything was going to be alright—  

No! It rejected the notion. It wasn’t home… it knew so…

Home. 

But it didn’t know who it was. It never knew, who it was. 

Home. 

One question remained, as warmth enveloped the compound, shining with the dulcet glint of the flame of hearth. 

Me, who can be everything… who am I? 

---

It was the first day of recruitment. Everything had been settled, and I was ready to welcome my first students in the compound. After giving a lot of qi to the land, I could safely assume the sprouts I planted—thanks to the kind people in the village nearest to my piece of land, who gave me the knowledge on how to deal with all of this—would grow normally. 

The rooms had been settled, the paperwork had been signed, and my sect was officially created.   

So here I stood, in one of the biggest cities in this part of the world, getting my first disciples. 

Hoping to, anyway.

“What do you want as a cultivator?” I asked the youth in front of me. 

“Power,” he answered like it was obvious.

“...Why?” Despair seeped in my voice as I asked, slowly. I raised an eyebrow, eyes filled with a glum understanding. For the twelfth time this morning, because I received the same answer twelve times already. 

“...”

This… This really isn’t going to work. 

---

“You plan on finishing that?” asked Xu Liang through the cacophony ever-present at lunchtime. 

His wooden chopsticks were already planted in the iron-hard piece of meat the school called ‘steak’, sitting barely touched inside of his classmate’s plate. 

A plate made out of a material called porcelain, Xu Liang recalled as his eyes traced the golden decorations marking the edge of the plate—with real gold. His short black hair even reflected on the almost ornamental plate.

So wasteful, mused the boy. Especially since they put this horrible food in it. 

Horrible food which was propelled into his mouth whole the moment he got his classmate’s nod. First, his tongue accepted the offering, running saliva all over the underside of the meat—it was devoid of nearly any taste. 

Then, his teeth sunk into the steak. He found it hard to properly cut it into more manageable pieces with just his sharper teeth, so he moved it further into his mouth, where his molars simply squashed it like a ripe fruit—but without any of the juices. It was dry as a desert and felt like sand with a dash of flavoring.

Xu Liang was used to it, however. His motions were well-practiced, from years of eating similar food. As he chewed, and chewed some more, using his saliva to moisturize the rubber steak, the one who gave it to him, snickered, seeing Xu Liang’s jaw becoming more apparent at the edge each time he bit down on the meat—not that it wasn’t already visible due to the lack of fat on his face.  

“I don’t know how you can eat these things, Brother Liang. Or how you’re even willing to do so,” the boy sitting in front of him said, his shoulder-length brown hair swinging with his head as he turned to point out, with his chin, the rest of their classmate’s plate’s state.  

Still chewing, loud noises coming out from his mouth, Xu Liang followed his classmate’s gaze, then soon roamed over the other plate. His chopsticks soon rose up again, ready to pluck any leftover food. 

Sitting at a table large enough to fit six people, though only three were sitting there, all dressed in a long blue robe—the uniform of the school—the group of friends was spending a rather calm lunch break. 

A calm that was broken the next second. 

“Hey, have you heard?” Deng Li asked the group, his second chin slightly wobbling as his head rose, his lips stuck on the opening of a water bottle. When he finished drinking, all of his friend’s eyes were on him—his position in the middle seat made for a great joining point of the two other gazes. 

“A cultivator’s in town,” he said, and even Xu Liang had to stop munching on his food, his mouth opening in shock. 

“A cultivator?” asked Qai Ting, the boy with shoulder-length hair, for confirmation. 

“Yeah, I couldn’t believe—” He took a spoonful of rice and rammed it into his mouth. “—it, at first either, but I went there—”

“There? Where?” interrupted Qai Ting, a large smile on his face. 

“Hey!” protested Deng Li, wearing a mocking grin, as his eyes turned to Qai Ting. “We know you love cultivators, but at least let me finish before gushing about them.” 

“Heh—” 

Qai Ting’s eyes widened before they narrowed at the sound of chuckles. His cheeks went red from indignation, though he tried to hide it to the best of his ability. “I don’t! It was one time and I was drunk!” 

“Sure, sure…” Deng Li waved his words away, and with a shrug, continued his story, “Anyway, my mother’s heard words of someone near the marketplace holding a sign… and basically recruiting disciples.” 

The two stared, not believing it one bit. 

“A sign? Yeah sure,” snorted Xu Liang. “A cultivator would definitely just hold a sign and ask people in the street.”

“Don’t look at me like this, I’m not the one making the rule… Plus, lots already tried to apply.” 

“Who’s dumb enough to do that?” 

“You,” both Xu Liang and Deng Li answered at the same time, deadpanning. Qai Ting coughed and looked at both of them reproachfully, knowing they were right. 

“They created a small ball of fire and made it move around, it even passed through stuff without burning it. After that… well, people just pushed each other to get to them.” 

“So… a parlor trick.” Xu Liang said, one of his eyebrows rising. 

“...” Tiredness of Xu Liang’s antics filled the two other boy’s eyes.

“There are ways to make this even without being a cultivator,” commented the short-haired boy, finishing his second steak. 

“Stop,” Deng Li rolled his eyes. “Stop with your alchemy stuff.” His lips curled into a mocking smile, one mirrored by the long-haired boy next to him. 

“Never,” answered Xu Liang in a mock defiant tone. “But… it’s true though,” he added after a short pause, more truthfully this time.

“Suuuure...” 

His head snapped to the right, narrowed eyes fixing Qai Ting. “Why are you still there, a cultivator’s in town… you must be itching to get on your knee and beg for a chance to join them at this point. Don’t worry, we’re not holding our friend back here, you can go.” 

“Pfft—” Deng Li couldn’t hold himself back—he roared with laughter. His hands slammed down on the table loud enough it even attracted the attention of the surrounding students. 

“Don’t act like you wouldn’t jump at the chance of becoming one as well, Brother Liang. With your stupid alchemy stuff… that’s never going to work unless you’re a cultivator,” retorted Qai Ting, truly peeved this time. 

That was it. 

Xu Liang’s nostrils flared up. His brows furrowed, and his lips thinned, eyes stuck on Qai Ting. “I don’t expect your small brain to understand what alchemy is, but at least don’t slander it by not remembering that the whole point is that it. doesn’t. need. internal. qi!” 

His finger was pointed towards his friend in an accusing manner, while he already stood up from his chair, now being inches above the long-haired boy who refused to back down from the glare. 

“You—”

“Hey, hey, hey… you two need to calm down…” Deng Li said in a hurried tone, looking around. “Plus, neither of you will get in anyway.”

“What?” Qai Ting blinked, peeling off his eyes away from Xu Liang. 

“Well, they rejected lots of people already, even the mayor’s son!”

“T-The one who was tested and was proclaimed a genius?” asked Xu Liang, incredulous. He felt the need to sit back at the news. This was… a surprise for him, to say the least. 

“Yeah! If that bastard’s not taken, what kind of chance do regular people like us have? That cultivator probably comes from the dark continent, that’s why a genius for us was probably an insect for them.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Qai Ting said, shaking his head left to right. “A cultivator from that place would never set foot here, the weakest continent. I mean, they would probably faint when they see the lack of talent.”

“Don’t forget you’re also part of the weakest continent,” said Xu Liang, glaring at the boy.

Qai Ting frowned and returned the glare. 

“Why are you like this…” muttered Deng Li, loud enough both heard him. 

“Not my fault he’s refusing to accept reality.” The long-haired boy shrugged, his eyes not leaving the short-haired one.

Xu Liang picked up his wooden tray, only empty dishes remaining on it, and stood up. “Refusing to accept reality is clinging to a dream everybody knows will never happen—like you becoming a cultivator,” he spat out, words carried by a poisonous tone.  

Qai Ting bristled, but the source of his anger had already walked away. 

---

The blue and ornate—golden engravings marking the edges, along with the golden seal, being the symbol of his school—robe he wore flowed like the blades of grass decorating the path his feet stood on when a nasty gust of wind greeted the earth. 

Even at the smallest size, with years of malnutrition doing no good to Xu Liang’s body, the robe was too big for him. Vacant enough he felt grateful for wearing clothes underneath when the rather cold wind wafted in every crevice of his garment—making him painfully aware of the frigid air. 

Above, a white pearl loomed from the pinkish hue of dusk, distant stars starting to pierce through and shine from the darkening canopy. A shine that fought with the lights of the city, especially in this neighborhood.

He peeled his eyes off the sky, putting them instead on Qiongqi City, one of the main cities of the continent—or at least the part in his vicinity. 

Tall buildings, and large ones as well. Equally tall walls around them, pristine tiles, of bright colors, and embellished doors. The streets were perfectly cast with the same-sized stones. Not too smooth, not too rough. Just perfect. The trees on the side gave an extra freshness to this place, and the grass was well-maintained, each blade of grass’ tip reaching the same height.

His eyes squinted, taking in every detail for what felt like the hundredth time. 

It was probably more than that. 

His robe was becoming uncomfortable. It simply didn’t fit. Being here was just a reminder of it because he didn’t fit here either. He could recognize the house of one of his friends further away. Wearing the ample robe for an entire day was taxing on Xu Liang’s mind—because it represented something he wasn’t. 

He sighed. 

It was starting to get late. 

He turned right and left the neighborhood. 

---

As always, the door clacked halfway through the opening. A simple wooden door, no decorations on it, except the upper part was instead glass nobody could see through, supported by thin pieces of wood, making multitudes of squares—repeating a pattern. It tumbled around a bit as Xu Liang put some more strength into his arm to get it to open correctly. 

After a short struggle, the door slid all the way to the left, squeaking in a way that just didn’t sound right. It was one Xu Liang was used to, however—so even though it didn’t sound right, it felt right.  

When the door opened, the boy was greeted with the scent of food. Familiar food. It put a smile on his face, but his stomach didn’t rumble—he had eaten so much at lunch that he still felt full hours later. 

“Big Brother Liang is back!” The boy heard the voice of a younger girl shout once he stepped onto the creaking slabs of wood—of course, he already removed his shoes and put on more adequate footwear.   

The loud yet light patter of a crowd reached his ears, and his smile widened just a bit more. Soon, he was welcomed by children of varying age, and of varying looks—the sight warming up his heart. 

This is home.  

Not one sibling by blood, but siblings by heart. Though others may have material richness, Xu Liang had his. Maybe it was different, maybe it wasn’t what others wanted, but his resolve firmed up once more seeing the bright smiles and the wide arms.  

He wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world.  

Not even cultivation.