It took a lot of preparations before the tea could be served, much more already spent over its unhurried preparation. The three people had their promised tea while teasing the black cat in turns, which with his paws rubbing over his whisker was beginning to look more or less disgruntled with the whole fervor about his fur being rubbed, or his tail being touched by some foreign smelling tiny hands. Though the slight little grunts of purring satisfaction rolled down his chest a few times, delighting his companion into cheery sort of giggles, he too enjoyed the shower of that comfortable touch of the hand scratching his chin or, the comfortable spot around his ears or his chin, or even several places together at the same time. Heavenly!

It appeared that, this little pet was a close dear of Martha, while Grandfather Shui and much of the his other relatives and friends usually stayed far away from it. Something about the nature of their being. But all in all, the silently observing yellow eyes of Mr. Black were now busy in grooming their paws at the moment when the guest had had enough of his company. He took great pain in that cause, his head bowed in deep consternation and tongue like a masterful tool of an artist, brushed each single hair in order, leaving them clean and shiny after the care. 

It was a lovely afternoon when the two old people chatted with the younger child about the wonders of the world and tales so fascinating in their smell, in their ardor that there were many restless gasping's and startled 'unbelievable' ringing around with rounded eyes that stretched on that gaunt little face, a face so starved through troubles and pressure that the Old lady Martha couldn't stay her hands from teasing this darling as that little one couldn't take her hands away from the black cat. Marth, with smiling eyes kept scratching this tender girly's cheek or ear in a show of heartfelt affection. Even pushing her to eat more couldn't serve her motherly heart at the moment. 

Anyone wouldn't believe that it hadn't been even a day long since the acquaintance between these three wonderful souls. They might have felt it incomprehensible themselves, or rather not – but perhaps in the world of straightforward sharing of love and trust, with no barriers to foul the sweetened spring bubbling in one's heart, one would be, but heart smacked sand strained, if he were to remain aloof with so much gushing love forced his way. Indeed, only cruelest of hearts and sturdiest of intentions alone could envisage such sturdy indifference in face of an open and easy heart that come with no terms and conditions attached to their showering of affection.

And then, after the tea break, it took far longer preparation, with three pairs of hand bending and sorting, shelling and cutting, chopping greens and picking fresh bean stalks from the front yard, or picking the right amount of just ripened tomatoes from the garden, or quite busy with head bent down over their baskets in shelling peas and cutting onions and sorting spices to go along with the evening soup, that was to go along with some toasted bread and stewed chicken.

Grandma Martha had the best recipes, and she stewed the best chicken with freshly picked parsleys. Anyone could agree to disagree, but not Grandfather Shui; he swore by this fact. It all sounded fun, initially, with all the preparations taking their time and people busy in their assigned places. It was a great deal of fun for all too, Wei Zhiruo thought. As she had never had the stew they talked of or even never tasted the herb called 'Parsley'. She was told it was akin to coriander, but here with the abundant spiritual energy in the air it has more flavor and taste to it than a normal herb. Even the normal chicken which she saw around were animals quite different from the mortal namesakes; for one they tasted rather heavenly, a delicacy more delicious than any morsel a mortal world could serve.  She herself had many years of Imperial life in tow so she was quite a qualified judge for it.

The arrangements made and every hand that could be busy, busy with its work - apart from Mr. Black who was now silently observing the huge bird that had recently been cleaned and left to be washed on a bamboo strainer. A slight shoo from Martha made him utter his dejection at such a cold treatment, but he soon left the company for being so slighted, his back extremely cold and proud looking. "He will be back before dinner, don't worry. Mr. Black always likes to show is discontent this way but never misses his chicken day," Martha reassured. 

As they went on their random chatting and washings of plates and setting it all down for supper, they weren't tired of the constant noises. Wei Zhiruo wasn't tired. She was all the more almost skipping with the new emotions that ranged in her veins. Perhaps she was flustered with the utter mundaneness of her current state. 

Wei Zhiruo didn't feel a little bit disconcerted as her tiny hands popped the peas and shelled them in a round porcelain bowl, which was to go later into the stewed chicken. The fire was ready, and the ingredients were to be placed together as Martha started setting things in order around the open fire arranged in the front yard. Amidst all the shrubs and tomato plants and onion greens. It was a makeshift open fire, with three chairs arranged around it, and logs burning in the middle of stone embankment heating up the dangling cauldron.

"It already looks very appetizing." Grandfather Shui bent his already bent shoulders with a great deal of effort before he could make out the bubbling chicken shreds and greens in the cauldron without any stews soup splashing over his face.

The vegetable's soup had been prepared a while ago in the same unhurried manner, with a range of tomatoes and fried shallots and roasted garlics. It smelled heavenly when the lid was taken off from the huge pot. Now it laid resting upon the supper table, with no adornments but some cutleries.

"My dear, you have done it again. And you wonder how I fail to lose my stomach fat! Zhiruo will you have a taste of it? It is extra delicious when it is nearly done and just to be poured out – no, come, come have a sip dear, don't be shy! You will never find such a great cook again in your life!"

Wei Zhiruo finally had to leave her small stool on which she sat while shelling the peas and enjoying the night air in her hair, hearing all the urgings from the old man. She took a hesitant sip of the stew and praised its great preparation as well as she could, though she could taste just some water on her tongue with all the astringent and spicy taste stinging her tongue. It really was deliciousness coming together - but haven't reached that spot yet; she might have liked it better after waiting for it to be served with the rest of the dinner, after being fully cooked.

"Oh, you're teasing the darling. Never mind him dear, he usually doesn't come across with children your age very often and he likes to pull some legs and play tricks. He used to do it all the time with our children as well. It has been, I think three hundred years since the last child-mouse was born in our mouse clan. You wouldn't believe how long the poor Shuo'er was troubled by these stinky old men in the clan! No one would spare that poor child a time alone with his mother – everyone was so eager to hug him, kiss him, or see his sleeping face all the time of the day! It looks like you haven't gotten over your bad taste, dear husband?"

"As if it was someone else, who had overstayed a fortnight with Shuo'ers mother even after her Confinement period was weeks over! You won't tell her that, will you now. We 'stinky' old people were not as crazy as your grandmother about that tiny little dormouse. He was so smitten with her afterwards because of that that there were moments when he confused your Grandmother Martha as his own. And it caused such pain to his own poor grandmother's heart. She still hasn't gotten over the bad memories, she says."

"Pained or not, it was the only child in the clan after so long, we all loved him, as we do even now."

"Yes, right. And now that he has grown up into such a silent brooding teenager, he seldom comes here to have dinner with us. Remind me, wasn't it a year back he came for dinner darling? Its quite faraway from the village too so we don't say anything - but that doesn't mean it doesn't get lonely some nights. That child was so considerate back then - always talking of accompanying us old bones. How I wonder what happened to my lovely little Shuo'er who liked to stay all day long sleeping inside my cloak's pocket and beg me to carry him around the mountains to get his favorite little purple vines! They grow up so fast, sigh."

"Yes, just like with our eldest, second and third child – adult in the blink of an eye. But we shall not bother you with our recollections, any longer. Go dear, be seated in the table and I will carry the stew over. Your Grandfather will in the meantime join us after preparing some hot, warm milk for you for drinking just before you go to bed – it might help you sleep a little tighter, with shorter worries."

There really was a great deal of food pouring, and nudging over the plates for more servings, with Grandma Martha never letting Wei Zhiruo's plate get a little empty before she had already poured her another dollop of warm stew and placed another piece of bread for her to finish.

That night Wei Zhiruo had the heartiest meal of her two lives and then with some sweets ( how could one forget the desserts on such a happy occasion of merrymaking!) made of milk and strawberries picked from fields, she was finally left alone in a small chamber with only one bed lying in the corner, freshly made with washed and sunbathed covers and comforters, and pillows that felt like they were freshly filled with cotton too, and a small window letting in sultry air that was tending to chill down as the night approached more deeper stretches.

*

Finally, the world returned to the usual quiet. But the traces of warmth in her palms as she sipped the milk from earthen mug – smelling very much like milk and baked mud, filling her nose, and numbing her tired mind – all this recollected to Wei Zhiruo a wonderful day she had had.

This might have not been the first encounter with open hearted and simple minded people with gentle souls, but after a long stretch of time fraught with turmoil and backstabbing's and countless attempts at her life, it was a breath of fresh air.

In the ancient sacrifice of sealing the totem of the clan inside herself -  removing any chance of her realm ever discovering any secret of the blood-clan, she had died, a very painful death. It wasn't as painful as the first half of her life, but nevertheless, it was still the same harrowing darkness unsettling till  her death.

While she had indeed laughed a great deal imagining her mothers heartbroken face after all the painstaking efforts she had put into getting inside the Blood-clans, "Common Land". At the realization dawning over her face that even the last chance which was there for her to exploit, and get through the entrance to steal treasures and inheritance, by her daughter, was ruthlessly sewered by her own hands. Or the end of the saga played over two decades to chance a glimpse into the common secrets about the blood-clan. With the last of them – herself – sacrificed there was no more of that story to unfold. She had really played them well.

Who in their right minds would have believed that what they have gotten through mind-numbing, earth-shattering struggles between life and death had been but, just a prank of a seventeen year-old who had thought of it as a fun night-time amusement. Leading them on in a constant allurement, then letting them have a taste of the future goods - but never enough to sate the growing hunger for power, for the world that was so inherently removed from the mortal boundaries! There was a great charm in that unravelling plot - and so they followed in herds after a sheepherder. 

After biding her time for several years for the ripe time, she had led them to believe that the 'Soul Sealing Sacrifice' meant something very essential for initiating into the blood-clan. That even a non-blood tie member, simply with contract could become a fully awakened blood clan member. Her half-brother was so excited that night! Finally he was going to be the Emperor of the Forgotten Empire! Finally he was to reclaim the legitimate name that was his title since birth! And the countless glories afterwards - 

The blooming figure of her mother, her stepfather, all so happy to finally get to the end of the long struggle which they had dreamed of day and night. The next day, they will be powerful – as powerful as the blood-clan of the lost tales. And she, with her death will forfeit the last claim to the throne of the 'Forgotten Empire'. Wasn't she being too generous about her ways at that time? So beautifully noble - her sacrifice would save the world! A world that she no longer belonged to, though. She played the role of holy saint, she was never that selfless. She was only giving them last bit of her blood to unseal the clans totem to realize her own plans. And let those eager to get the chance to feel the power of getting the awakened blood-kins so that they pine for the thing lost till the end of their breath! How could something illusory as simple promises compare with actually feeling it at hair-breadths distance and oh, so close to ones hand? 

It had amused her, a great deal to see them nailing the last nail in their coffins. She knew very well what awaited the 'Forgotten Empire' after her death – her revenge was not only for those people who had raised their hands on her clansmen but also those who were its direct beneficiary, or those who had chased her down like a gutter-rat till they had confined her final hopes in their dark, cold and smelly prisons.

She wanted to see those celebrated pair of 'fated lovers' grumble and kowtow to the world as they went on explaining how, the best institutions and colleges around the world - the testament to the advancing magic and charm studies, the very testament of worlds fast development pioneered by the erstwhile blood-clan elders - crumbled down one by one, when it was promised to be opened for all civilians and aristocrats alike?

Why the best known temples around the empire which sheltered the poorest of the poor and were lights of the dark hearts of many degenerates, collapsed as if heralding the end of a dynasty?

And why, when finally, all over the world, the common men and affluent aristocrats had reached a final balance of interests - the best of libraries filled with countless resourceful classics and books about myriads of genius mages and masterful charmers, everything that made the 'Forgotten Empire' so special in the eyes of the whole realm – how it all crumbled as the last of her clan breathed her last in the celebrated sacrifice, crumbling down, tumbling into rubbles and catching fire at the same time!

How could she leave any trace of her clan on a foreign land that didn't welcome her or them? 

How could she see the mortals struggling for eternity, and get an answer from the saintly sages of the past, who had dedicated their whole lives to the service of Knowledge after raiding their houses?

Wasn't it all for the people, the people's easy life? At the beginning they had been serving, till the end they were still serving the people.

When the first mage dawned the beginning of an era far removed from anarchy of dark ages, or when the second mage began the schools for easy cultivation of more mages and charm holders - weren't they, these old men of past her own Blood-clan members, the so scorned faces of corruption? Wasn't it the people's will then, the people themselves who had created the throne for the Fifth Great Mage of the Surelean Empire?

Even though time had washed away many good things and reduced their clans to mere mortals, and the Great Kingdom to one called 'Forgotten Empire' - wasn't it still the will of people who had kept them upon that throne when the One Hundredth Leader of the Clan called for a change of power?

What of the many contributions that had removed the raging traces of common contempt for human life in their midst, common disregard for lower people, the so called commoners, making their lives so much easier- what of it was not owning to the teachings of their Seventh Mage, the clan leader of her Blood-clan? Every great man of her clan her served the realm, selflessly. And their progeny, they, with an innocent rumor were butchered to pieces! No mercy was shown for the infants, no mercy for the last of her clan, herself! 

What great sacrifice hadn't they done? When they were asked to raise arm, they took to it, not counting how many of the clan members lost their heads. When they were told of untold hardship suffered by mulling people in the lower hierarchy, the clan elder unflinchingly abolishes the privileges of the past families, even the privileges of their own clan, facing the torrent of criticism of several ages for turning their faces from the ancestors. Heathens and betrayers. For almost three hundred years after that order, the clan was shunned by these very people. 

But wasn't it all a good end? If she were to go, she will take down the last of their traces and seal the past history of her clan so deeply intermingled with the rest of the world! 

It would catch the many noble faces in their long gowns and dragging capes, in their whispering scorn at a feat so easily wrangled from the hands of a starved girl, who hadn't even seen the adulthood of her life – it will catch them all as the biggest, cruelest joke in their lives!

The feat which they had imagined and in whose celebration even the dignitaries from around the world with their busy and flurried lives had joined in with their merrymakings, with their varied, beaming faces. How, it all will suddenly collapse and turn quickly into amusing blame games, Wei Zhiruo could very well imagine. It was choiciest of the times, she had handpicked after all her deliberations. She had wanted them elated so that they take the highest fall of their lives!

As the princess of the dying dynasty on its deathbed, who held so many treasures tucked under her tender wings, she had done all she could to repay the favors' and settle some scores in her short life.

It was a long harrowing twelvemonth of painstaking leading and trapping that had finally settled their hearts – or won't the charming mother of her life, with her lover smell something off from the soup she had served?

She had been the most careful in those months. Her bed-stricken father had looked with such abhorring frown on his face whenever she visited his dingy chamber. He had laid their tucked uncared for in his foul-smelling chamber, left unclean as a pig stay, glaring at her with bloodthirst in his red-eyes as if it were her fault that the big name of the clan was dragged to death! As if it wasn't he himself who had fallen in the hands of his  past lover, who has been successful in draining his last worth and leaving just a husk of his self.

As if it was her who had failed in revenge and dumped it on his tender daughter, to be restricted from vengeance from all corners and be throttled so awfully in all kinds of beastly manner!

He had a lot of expectations for her, it seemed, a fifteen-year-old maiden.

But who was going to assure his dying heart with tender words? Not her, by any means. She couldn't find that need nor did she feel him worthy of that trust.

So, he passed away in utter dejection of being such a failure in his life, and such a failure in front of his clansmen. He had only reaped what he had sown. Nothing less would have been worthy of his kind of person; his death was simply the most perfect summation of his life. He had been a burden all his life till he took the very last of his breaths in that dark room untouched by air, or suns light. 

It was all good. It was perfect, cheering her at times she used to ponder over those crumbling faces after they found out the reality and then – it will be too late for them to seek her. Her world had forsaken her, forsaken her clan and she had simply tucked away the last pieces of their remembrance – the last of their traces and sealed them with the totem of her clan.

Wasn't it a magnificent butterfly, that had finally broken from its shell, finally removed the last shackles of that realm as if promising it –

'it wasn't I who failed you, it was your own people, it was you.

It wasn't our people who didn't keep their share of the promise, it was you, your very people.

It wasn't also not us, who had taken arms but the first one to raise the blood-vow was you and your people;

and so, the friendship between you, my world, and us falls short and we flow back into the arms of universe.

You might keep us no longer and share no longer of our joys.'

It was a meaningful parting – that whole sacrifice.

As she took the last drop of her blood and recalled the last of the vows their ancestors had made to the world consciousness of that world, evoking it, awakening it, and finally notifying it of the eminent parting, she had felt the greatest peace wash over her self.

It was peaceful, like the last march as the crowd of people carried her heavily donned figure near the ancient lake of Amair, over their shoulders on golden bejeweled palanquins.

Amair, from which it was said, emerged the first of the royal clans – the first of her blood clan. There were chanting's in the procession, there were songs of cheery tune and heartfelt blessings; many children frolicked about her palanquin, and the chariot following her laden with sacrificial gifts. Through miles and miles of grassy meadows, from the city center, into the woods and dark lands. Many small mages blessing the earth to bloom on their way, awakening the plants like an early spring. 

The Palanquin went on, showing the face of the great benefactress who will prey for the blessing from the world and place the crown of the kingdom to her younger brother's head, giving an heir to the heirless world. Wasn't she the very incarnation of a saint, peerless in benevolence! So holy, so peaceful and serene in her countenance. So many innocent, yet stone hearted people had blessed her on the way! 

Lake Amair had been the beginning of their, the Blood-clan of Yuli tribe. And she poetically designated it as the place of its ending.

This world had accepted their clan in their times of their harsh needs and sheltered their weathered bones when nothing else did. It had earned the respect of many of the clan-members who then dedicated their lives in creating legends and lifting the spirit of the world. They had been the first magicians. They were the first teachers. They were first physicians and the first ruler. It was all from a caring heart that had taken the world as its own home, its very hearth. It had spent its lifeblood fretting for its peace and calm.

The parting might have been expected by some. Because she had found the 'Recalling World Charm' in one of the treasured books of the clan itself, even the instructions for a perfect Sacrifice. It was not even placed inside the "Common Land". It was in the common palace library she found this book. 

After glimpsing it she had divined the parting, and she had wept her heart out for being so ruthlessly forsaken. Wept loudly at the fate of her clan which had mostly been innocent of all crimes but one - that they heralded a new meaning in this world, that their  knowledge had made them the most powerful from the rest and with no capable leader, it had made it the tallest tree in the forest – the cutting down of it was but a matter of time.

Since she glimpsed the parting, she became numb.

It wasn't the lack of courage on her part but the pain of being dealt so heavy a blow from the nurturer of her family since ages – 'farewell, that ye dwell in the blessed lands and find peace in new hearts, new people' – the blessing of that elder of her clan who foresaw this fate had been so heart wrenchingly final in its utterance as if severing the ties of millions of years of comradery; she could only weep herself silently to sleep and wake up to an indifferent world.

It was that world that had chased her, and called her father a tyrant, killed her clansmen as remnants of past corruption, the proof of the poverty of the world, the cause of the sufferings and pain. Yes, it wasn't those cheerful meadows and lands she had glimpsed through her forefather's writings – their appreciating elegies about the birds' carol, or the white, white sky, or the mellow and heady scent in the pastures and meadows and countless untraveled woods. And happy, open hearted people. And happy steadfast men. It wasn't any longer those pristine lands which her forefather had found by chance and taken a shelter under its warm, motherly wings.

Wei Zhiruo sipped the last drop of milk and melted away in a long earned rest.

She was lost to the world.

Perhaps somewhere, a country or its tree or its bird that had accompanied her family had bade her similar farewells wishing her a happy search in her new abode as they found that the old ones, they themselves, couldn't accommodate her big, warm heart.

There were many blessings with her, which Wei Zhiruo didn't see in her temple, in the lines around her eyes and entrenched in her fate-lines. They were the last blessings from a mother who had sent off her matured child into the wide, cruel world – believing that perhaps, in time when the wound has sealed a bit, and agonized heart had been mellowed by weary time – a distant remembrance would make it pang, and once more venture into its fold. Perhaps, even her world was weeping when they put to an end to their long-lasting care and friendship. Perhaps, some people too had cried at the parting.

It was a peaceful, settling night. One, in which Wei Zhiruo slept through feeling like a feather as if the last of her worries had been shed with the nostalgic adieu. A good, peaceful night.

*

Temier Xiutian heard the thump of the only remaining child of his family falling – whether dead or unconscious, unknown.

He supported his aching self on the hilt of the huge double-handed sword, the drops of blood seeping through his palm rubbing over the silver pommel carved elegantly into an open beaked hawk's head, dripping so very elegantly over the beady, sculpted eyes - it appeared to come from the weeping hawk's eye itself. The sword was the only intact thing on him at the moment; not his clothes or his flesh, or his mind. 

He panted ever so tired, his breathing as chaotic as his thumping head, but his heart ached so painstakingly, constantly refreshing the impulse to simply give-up and lay down – that he definitely couldn't arrive at that decision. Not now, when there were so many bloods sacrificed for this cause and his retreat would be a definite death of all.

"You should surrender." A calm voice echoed from the side.

Temier Xiu looked at the man who had stood there as a marble statue since the beginning of their ordeal, despite many begging voices for help. He stood, aloof and stern, with his long hair untied, fluttering in air. In his hand he held nothing but stood with his sleeves elegantly folded, with one hand behind his straightened back; he looked so far separated from the scene of carnage, as if he were merely a phantom. 'Perhaps, he really was a cold hearted phantom. A reflection of his destiny.'

Temier Xiu wasn't even sure if he himself was breathing and struggling right now, not dead and imagining this pain in the afterlife. But it hurt so bad that it couldn't be hell.

No flesh on his body remained intact. His bones moved when he did, his ribs were completely crushed out of shape. He had gone through six phases of attacks, with only ten minutes interval each. He might be resting in the last interval before he actually fell. They called it an inheritance land - but perhaps it was more like a collective burial place that buried all hopes!

The internal bleeding was a fact, his mouth tasted of his sweetened blood pouring out his lip and dripping with the rest of the saliva in a disgraceful loss of bodily control. He was increasingly losing his control, he found.

The twitching of his sleep laden eyes, or the way his eyelids weighed in ton's, everything from the parched throat to cutting pain on his neck – every bit of the hurt, and ache echoed the pain and struggle his family has faced here a moment earlier. He could die but never give up! On the pride of his clan, he once more reinstated his pledge.

Maybe the man saw this stubbornness.

He simply waved his hand and the wooden grill like gates that restricted the hungry wolves was opened once more. Several wolves, humongous in size, more than double their actual sizes akin to a horse jumped snarling over him.

But a Temier could die but never give up, so he pushed his aching body up facing the attack upfront, unflinchingly. When he saw one coming from left he jumped to right, when one attacked in the right he rushed back, and when they came from all around, he ducked in a corner and separated a way out from the encirclement.

His agile body danced with vigorous haste, as if it were finally shedding the last bit of its energy before breaking into pieces. 'It was close.'

Some claws got his back, spattering blood. A jaw was successful enough in holding his legs in between, Temier Xiu held the sword grip tightly and cut through this jaw, dragging his limp legs out of the wolves salivating mouth. But there were already bone deep teeth piercing marks on his legs.

The dance continued, and one fell the other arrived till Temier knew not how many heads he had actually slain in reality and how many of his own was chewed in the dreams.

He was in a strange realm of real and unreal, so surreal were the movements of these creatures that it appeared as if he could grasp their each intention, each attack, before they actually moved. The wolf lurched towards left but his body tilted right and then it actually did turn on his right to take a bite of his unguarded right shoulder – but soon, he finds that in reality he had successfully chopped of the wolfs head at the last moment, because he successfully averted the attempt to attack him with this plan, his sharp blade of sword piercing through the huge wolf's head, fountain of blood splattering over his body, over his dirtied sword.

It was a menace. He was feeling the rush, the buzz in his ears as he kept repeating the movements. He ducked, escaped, guarded, and killed.

In his dream like state Temier failed to notice the silent appreciation that floated in the white cloth wearing youth who stood on the side. His dark black eyes, took in all the sword movements, all the struggles of escape and saves at last moment. There was even some surprise when Temier Xiutian started engaging in the battle so upfront that he could flawlessly dodge the strikes from howling creatures, or even predict the next attacks from his enemies. The sword dance became increasingly fluid and natural - one word, breathtaking.

Finally, there was a silent sigh resounding in the air but Temier Xiu didn't hear anything. And kept repeating his final death battle till his legs numbed so much that he couldn't feel them anymore.

'Here it come,' he thought. 'Oh, sweet sleep of eternal death, take me in your arms.'

He fell headfirst, toppling like lose sand all over. His arms twitched like they were testifying their brave use. And they were used so very bravely, when they fought till the last of the muscles stretched away and gave in.

If he could kill through his stare, the monstrous beasts salivating over his body, nudging him through their nose as if judging whether he was finally taken for food – if he could kill by staring, his red eyes ablaze with dark fury melting with liquid gold of the fire flickering in the beacon, these creatures would have been shred into pieces. But he fell down. He was done for. He didn't want to close his eyes, even then though.

He saw through it all as the beasts nudged and measured his body and then took a hefty bite from his stomach, which had come rolling out. It didn't even hurt. Seeing himself being eaten in small bites, chewed, and prodded on all sides to get to more meat – he really was too numb to even close his eyes. And so, he watched the macabre scene unfolding.

"Have you given up, yet?"

The man was still there. He stood as still and as elegant, as far separated from the macabre feast unfolding in front of his eyes as he had been half a moment ago. If Temier could talk through his broken neck, he would have once more forcefully resounded his oath. But now, his consciousness was too fleeting for him to even comprehend what the other man meant. There was light in his eyes. The same light that had flickered through the several children who had toppled down fighting before him.

His eyes didn't fall on the white clothed man for long. He had spotted his younger sister and the infant whose arms were sticking out of her body's gap. The blood was too striking over those tender back, it looked extremely gruesome, extremely hateful!

Even the unmoving infant appeared so maliciously in his floating mind that for a moment, the sound around himself once more startlingly started pouring inside his head. The gulping sound of beast as it preyed over him, and several others who bent down and chewed his siblings and cousins, the crackling of their bones, he heard them anew. He felt so hateful! He hated himself for his bravery, for stepping into this trap and removing the last bit of hope, with his bravado. He really had throttled the light out of sight. In this darkness he could view nothing but traces of hopeless despair.

"Gave up?"

How could he! He didn't deserve to die so easily. Temier Xiutian didn't feel it himself, but his hands moved over the clutching knife and with the last effort he had garnered in his soul he clutched it deeply and then threw it over to the man. He didn't shout for the man to shut up as his soul screamed, he couldn't do that but the silent protest did emerge. A sword fell at the unstained feet of that silent and observing passerby. It wasn't a plea, nor a sign of his giving up. It was just his last protest before he closed his eye. Protest that he deemed was his birth-right at this point. 

"Not given-up, is that it? Then you shall find this last choice of yours quite correct. Let's see what we can make out of you all. So many broken bodies, sigh. It will be a whole year before they can grow any of that bone or flesh. Now, you go. You have done your job."

With a wave of his hand, the man sent away the Wolf like panting beasts, who tried to protest but were finally shoved back into their holes by a wave of the man's hand. He bent down over each small figure, taking note of the injury and mumbling about the treasures that couldn't be kept.

"Alas! This year really is a weird one, certainly. Who would have thought such mortal children could pass through the assessment by sheer determination. Not a single deserter! And a sword bone, too! But the time is so different. Who knows what the sect is up to now. Whether these children have fate with the fairy fate – it can only be told through time, alas. Unfortunately, they weren't born in the immortal realm. And such fine physiques too! Maybe all of them might have spiritual roots. Strange…"

*

Wei Zhiruo looked up at the clear sky. Apart from the traces of few dwindling white clouds on the verge of fading away into an undecipherable line, there were no other traces to be found. And the misty mountain of the day earlier had faded into blue shadows lingering in the mountain crevices, easily traceable from afar. Fluttering butterflies flew over her head, even some bees buzzed on their journey while moving atop her freshly washed hair. The spring bubbled somewhere, the brook brazenly breaking off into far off lands, tumbling down playfully through the meadows and fields. As far as the eyes could see, Wei Zhiruo found the land blooming in the fiercest echo of spring. The trees, the mountains and lands; everything spoke of something playful and cheery. Wei Zhiruo took a deep breath and looked at the far-off figures bent in green field picking leaves.

There was great deal of tranquility. In the fluttering hair, in the breeze that caressed over her face and as if kissing a lover lingeringly. It left an imprint over her temple, her neck. She rose her hands and held back the hair that was splaying over her face, then bent down over her basket, which was almost full with green leaves of all shape and sprigs of new buds, even few sparing stalks of lavender, which now she picked up and smelled. Though she had a foreboding that her arrival here bodes no good news for the people dwelling so silently over these valleys, but since her feet had reached here, returning without any clue was detrimental to her very existence. She sighed and once more looked at the clear sky – perhaps, she wished, she hadn't come as a disaster, but rather a way out.

"Zhiruo, look here, ah! It looks like you are done. Very nicely picked too – looks like you girl know about herb-picking. Good, good. Your grandma will be done soon, and then we can carry all these to Treasure hunter Grandfather. He is the oldest of us all, even older than our master. He will like to hear what is going outside. Come, lets head on our way."

The hunchbacked old man waved his hands to her to rush; Wei Zhiruo picked up the bamboo tray like basket and holding its handle with both hands she joined the figure calling out to her.

It was decided a while back that the news of the sudden shift of ancestral land was to be brought into notice of the chieftain of the mouse clan – the Treasure Hunter Mouse grandfather, called by this title in the rest of the village. He must have a name, but his title had shadowed that name into some forgotten scape that any alternative of using that title seemed disrespectful to that long living patriarch. Or this was what Wei Zhiruo felt from the adoring faces of both the old people – there was an unalterable love, a deep-rooted respect and adoration in all the very mention.

By the time they reached closer to the village settlement, as she found out by the long journey over that the cottage was quite far – some ten miles away from the village parameters, owning to the duty's assigned to the couple (they being in earnest the village guards, and greeters for any stranger that strayed into the space, however untoward that scenario might be); and through this she found the nature of the settlement down in the valley, almost situated between two smaller mountains, several wooden houses peeking through foliage. There were several willow trees, though there were other tall poplars, or dancing jacarandas, and many walnut with their broad leaves rustling into a churning wave like storm – though there were many laudable presence, but the bending willows in their shyness and grace stole the sight at first glance.

"It's really beautiful."

Wei Zhiruo couldn't help reiterating her appreciation. Her words echoed, but melted away into a sigh as if breaking away from the clutches of some restrictions. She found herself surreptitiously desiring the same tranquility to steal over her mind somehow and make her internal chaos silent – because, all those memories, all those wounds over the years might leave no trace on her but she had known how broken her actual mind was – and she wanted the clean, shining water of the spring, the washing leaves of the willow that fell ever so gracefully and now head-bent into those clear streams - to also wash over her, the cracks in her soul and heal them as well – she really wanted to lie down and take a long breath.

While she so indulged in the flight of her fancies while curiously taking in all the beauty that broke over her senses, and stimulated them to rethink, reconsider all her steps; the three of them had finally reached the ancient looking gate that led into the village. The script in which the name of the village was written was very different from the scripts she knew, so she asked what was written.

"Oh that – that is the name of our dear village, its Anjian. Specially carved by master, when he was but a lad – though he wasn't as powerful yet, but his insight in the path of calligraphy could be easily found in those strokes. The runes carry the blessings and hopes of master."

"Yes."

She could feel a mellow breath stealing through her veins, as she stepped inside the gate. The power held in it was nothing remarkable but the hope, the purity of that sentiment overfilled Wei Zhiruo's eyes. She didn't know why, but she felt so perplexed with this sentiment and her eyes overflowed with water, creating veils shadowing her black eyes behind their softness.

"Perhaps,' she thought inside her mind, 'Perhaps, she really was going to do something for this desire, now that she really couldn't turn her back over the fate of this place."