Volume One: The Eternal Stream Chapter Ten: Moonlight at Midnight

In recent years, the barbarians beyond Ansheng Pass had nearly vanished without a trace, known only to the pass’s guardians.

Sun Zikai became a guardian at five years old. Seven years later, at twelve, he had slain over two thousand barbarians and wiped out more than fifty barbarian tribes. He always eradicated them completely, leaving no clues behind. Thus, no one beyond the pass knew of his existence, and his range of activity had expanded from the traditional twenty li to over a hundred.

Sun Zikai credited all the guardians for their contributions; each had recorded around one hundred and ten kills. Over the years, the guardians’ reputation and treatment within the fourteen cities inside the pass reached unprecedented heights. The people lived in peace and happiness, but this prosperity stirred discontent among certain sects and factions.

One day, four hundred li beyond the pass, a tribe of barbarians marched on foot toward Ansheng Pass. They had not heard any news of their kin breaking through the gate for a long time. Today, fully equipped, they aimed to seize some valuable goods within ten days.

As they walked, a youth appeared ahead. Dressed in black, his hair tied back, with two large pockets on his waistcoat, hands tucked inside, his expression calm. On his left hip hung a slender iron-sheathed knife.

The barbarians, mistaking him for one of their own, shouted to him, “Where are your people? Come with us to assault the pass.”

Sun Zikai inhaled deeply. As he did, dozens of different “air currents” appeared before him—visible only to himself. Then, light on his toes, he moved like drifting silk, as if a willow leaf floating in water. With hands still in his pockets, the air around him was manipulated into invisible blades that danced at the throats of the barbarians. After passing through the entire group without a glance back, he continued forward calmly. Behind him, every barbarian was decapitated except for two horses, whose reins were severed, granting them freedom.

He returned to a waterfall, his outpost beyond the pass. Beside the waterfall sat a porcelain bowl filled with water. Drops often splashed into it from above, yet the surface remained perfectly still.

Sun Zikai bent down, touched the water’s surface with a finger, and pulled outward. The water did not move but instead revealed a phantom image. He leapt into the waterfall beneath it. The falling water suddenly froze, as if time itself had stopped, merging the phantom with his body. He seemed to blend with water and air. The waterfall resumed its flow, yet not a drop touched him.

Reaching into the water beneath the falls, he manipulated the surface like dough, kneading it, then the weight vanished, transforming it into “cotton.” The water shifted from formless to tangible, then back to ethereal. With a swing of his arm, within fifty zhang, everything stilled: soil became liquid, plants began to “walk,” water solidified into stone, and stone softened into wind.

All these elements gathered around Sun Zikai. As they neared, their energies were drawn out, swirling about him. Then the energies were absorbed again but altered in form. Flowers ceased to be flowers, water ceased to be water. During this transformation, each item unleashed tremendous energy, which Sun Zikai sensed but could not capture. He deduced that all matter comprised energy, that formation consumed vast energy, and structural changes released massive energy as well.

For two years, his physical cultivation had stalled, but his ability to absorb life force and control energy improved greatly. This was thanks to his insights into the forces of water and fire, where he grasped traces of energy flow. A prodigious talent like him, once finding a breakthrough, would surge uncontrollably. From the moment he truly “seized” energy, his cultivation underwent a fundamental transformation.

No longer constrained by the fixed forms of “matter,” he could seize, control, and devour energy, then reshape it into new energy forms resembling “matter.” He named this art—“Technique.”

At the same time, touching the true nature of energy, Sun Zikai developed a new understanding of the world’s essence. Why did water flow downward? Could energy be restrained by some special force? He tentatively called this constraint—“Rule.”

By harnessing energy, he imposed order on chaotic water. Within the calm bowl, thousands of energy currents flowed, hidden beneath the surface, granting water an order that made it as hard as stone—capable of withstanding fierce attacks and dissolving soft matter.

From chaos, he created order; within order, he forged rules. He named this enlightenment—the “Limitless.”

After his practice, he lay on the water’s surface, which did not wet him. Soon, he sat up, his perception of energy and life force extending to twenty li. He sensed a special person rapidly approaching, likely flying.

He calculated swiftly and understood the reason, arriving ahead on the path. Soon, a sword-wielding man descended from the sky upon seeing Sun Zikai.

This man was no stranger; years ago, he had blocked them and threatened to help barbarians enter the city.

The man looked down on Sun Zikai with disdain: “Where have all the barbarians gone? After such a long journey, you’re the only one I see.”

Sun Zikai smiled: “Sir, I’m not sure. I came to scout. The tribe will arrive in two days.”

“Tch, little piglet,” the man sneered, displeased. Searching, he found no other barbarians and said, “Tell them I’ll help you break through Ansheng Pass. Once inside, loot and kill to your heart’s content. I guarantee you’ll return unscathed.”

“You’re so capable, sir, you should speak to them yourself. Fly with me, and we’ll find them quickly.”

The man glared, clearly annoyed, but he came sneaking with time pressing. Letting barbarians into the city quickly meant he could reap benefits. The guardians hadn’t allowed a single barbarian in for seven years; he hadn’t profited in a long time.

He took a rope, threw it around Sun Zikai, binding him, then hoisted him into the sky, coldly commanding, “Lead the way.”

Sun Zikai tilted his chin and pointed ahead. The man flew off, indifferent to whether the boy might strangle himself. Unbeknownst to him, the boy had already moved behind him.

At a thought, the rope softened and loosened. Sun Zikai drew a hand and pressed a finger to the man’s back. In moments, nearly all the man’s internal energy was drained.

Both fell swiftly. The man crashed heavily to the ground. Sun Zikai landed lightly on the tips of his toes. The man, unaware of what happened, turned around but twisted his waist in pain. Instantly, he felt his internal organs decay; his teeth fell out, skin wrinkled, and hair whitened and scattered.

“What… is happening…” The old man was utterly powerless.

Sun Zikai strolled over leisurely, hands in pockets, legs braced as if preparing a punch. Calmly, he said, “Sir, hold on a little longer. I want to test all my skills.”

A radiant glow appeared on his fist, as hot as the sun, the air around it distorting with heat. He whispered, “Just one punch.”

Boom!

A half-mile-long ravine exploded behind the man, crushing everything—dust and dirt spreading wide.

The man was pulverized to nothing. Sun Zikai immediately regretted it. He had wanted to extract cultivation secrets from the man but had been too cautious: first draining his energy, then life force, and finally delivering a full-power punch with no intent to hold back. How could such a man survive?

Sighing, Sun Zikai put his hands back in his pockets and walked leisurely toward Ansheng Pass.

Every month, he returned once to reassure the others. Nine-year-old Yang Youshi waited eagerly atop the pass walls. Seeing Sun Zikai, she shouted excitedly, “Brother! I’ve memorized them all! Every one!” For five years, she had finally memorized the 460 medical texts Sun Zikai finished monthly.

The gate need not open; he kicked off and leapt onto the wall’s top, asking, “Where do rain flowers and parasite grass grow? How are they picked and used?”

Yang Youshi’s eyes shone as she recited without pause. Sun Zikai nodded: “Alright, you’ve memorized them. Try making medicine. If you succeed, you can heal.”

“I’ve been making medicine for everyone already, brother, you know that!”

“I didn’t approve before. Now, you barely have the qualifications.”

“Tch, brother, you’re so boring. Annoying!”

Old Yang called out, “Is the boy back? Come to me if you need anything!”

Sun Zikai greeted the men along the way but noticed a finely crafted carriage—out of place in this rough land.

Inside Old Yang’s house, he found a group warmly received by Old Yang, while Old Zhang sat silently nearby. Their clothes were neither city fashion nor barbarian style, and though weary, their manners and presence were refined.

Old Zhang beckoned Sun Zikai over and sat him by the table, pointing: “This is him.”

The leader, about forty, examined Sun Zikai and remarked in amazement, “Is this the famed boy slayer of barbarians from the fourteen cities?”

“Yes,” Old Zhang said seriously. “He has killed over a thousand barbarians and earned the highest military merit.”

A flicker of mockery passed the man’s face, noticed immediately by Sun Zikai, who inhaled sharply. Air currents surged inside the room, visible only to him.

The man said happily, “Good! With this young hero, our journey will be smooth.”

“Don’t forget, our boy here must…” Old Yang handed a cup of tea.

The man touched the rim but did not drink, swearing, “Commander Yang, rest assured. He’s qualified by merit. If escorted well, there will be rewards!”

Then he called toward a corner, “Miss, pay the commission.”

Sun Zikai looked over. A young girl sat in the corner, cloaked. Hearing the call, she raised her head, hair falling, revealing eyes full of sorrow reflected under the half-moon, her own shadow in the dark pond.

She stood, her gaze timid but soon calm like a clear pool, as if she found her answer. Bowing her head, she walked behind a screen.

Sun Zikai sensed an unusual energy flow but it vanished quickly. The girl returned to the table, placing a handkerchief-wrapped item before Old Yang. Unwrapping it revealed a foot-long gold bar, engraved with patterns glittering faintly.

She silently returned to her seat.

Old Yang and Old Zhang’s eyes widened. “Miss, you don’t need so much. Some small change would suffice,” Old Yang said.

Old Zhang quickly wrapped the gold bar, saying, “This can buy many lives. You don’t need so much. Please take it back.”

The girl seemed surprised, lifting her head to meet a gaze. Following it, she saw a pair of autumn-moon eyes stirring stars in the night pool—the eyes were his.

The leader waved dismissively, smiling, “This is our lady’s reward. Don’t refuse. Work well.”

Old Yang and Old Zhang looked troubled. Sun Zikai asked what they intended to do. Old Zhang explained, “These are not locals from inside the pass. They’ve come thousands of li from afar.”

“Thousands of li away?” Sun Zikai was incredulous. “For what?”

Old Zhang said, “To escort their lady two hundred li to the banks of Ying Creek, and help them find… what was it?”

The leader said, “Moving Mountains, Dust Rising, a millennial lineage—the Moving Dust Sect! Young brother, you must escort us south beyond the pass, find the creek’s tail, then ascend it five hundred li more to reach the Moving Dust Sect’s territory.”

Sun Zikai was puzzled. “Outside the pass isn’t it all barbarians?”

Old Yang explained, “No. I heard from city elders that traveling south beyond the pass you’ll find a creek. Following it hundreds of li leads to a prosperous land. The barbarians are descendants of ancient nomads within eight hundred li beyond the pass. Our ancestors were nomads too, but our branch settled inside the pass, farming and cultivating. The nomads outside rely on what Heaven grants and often go hungry, turning to plunder, which is the root of the conflict inside and outside.”

Sun Zikai asked, “What is military merit? What do you want me to do?”

Old Zhang replied, “Cultivation sects have given commoners chances to join and bring honor to their families. For us guardians, merit is counted by kills—one kill equals one merit. Collect four hundred merits and you can enter a sect.”

Sun Zikai said bluntly, “Is that really an opportunity? Who can do that? How many years must a guardian kill four hundred people? Even if one survives, by the time they enter a sect, they’re forty or fifty. What cultivation is left?”

Old Yang said, “That’s for us, not you. You can do it. You must seize this chance.”

Sun Zikai coldly exposed the man’s lie: “Even if such a chance exists, what does it have to do with the Moving Dust Sect a thousand li away?”

The man smiled, “I just told Commander Yang, the Moving Dust Sect is allied with Yanming Sect, a hundred li behind the fourteen cities. The two sects maintain contact, so merits can be redeemed there. Of course, if you fail, we’ll compensate you adequately.”

Sun Zikai asked the girl directly, “Why go to the Moving Dust Sect?” but she did not look up.

The man answered for her, “Cultivation. Our lady wants to pursue the path of immortality.”

Sun Zikai said, “If so, I can take you to Yanming Sect behind the fourteen cities. My parents were members there. That sect is strong enough—no need to risk the barbarian lands.”

The man frowned, “Our lady insists on the Moving Dust Sect. Commander Yang, will you accept this?”

Silence fell. Old Yang and Old Zhang looked at Sun Zikai.

Just as Sun Zikai opened his mouth, Old Zhang said, “Xiao Kai, I don’t agree with you going. Within two hundred li, you’re safe. But five or six hundred, maybe a thousand li… it’s too dangerous. Old Yang insists, and I can’t stop him!” His voice held resentment, clearly displeased with Old Yang’s decision.

Sun Zikai glanced at Old Yang, who smiled quietly, saying nothing. He looked at the girl in the corner, then at the man, and suddenly grinned slyly: “Do you really believe a kid like me, who can’t even reach your chest, can protect your whole group through barbarian-infested lands for hundreds, even thousands of li?”

The man smiled meaningfully, “Commander Yang says you’re capable. I believe him. Your legend has spread through the fourteen cities. I’ve heard it all the way here, so I believe it.”

Sun Zikai did not directly expose the man’s lie. He could read emotions from air currents visible only to himself and judge deception. The man’s motives were complicated. He shouldn’t agree, but Old Yang wanted him to go, and he remembered the eyes beneath the cloak.

“Fine, I’ll go. When do we leave?”

“Immediately, no rest.”

“So soon?” Old Zhang insisted they stay a night, and the man relented.

The next morning, Sun Zikai took no luggage. Outside the pass, he needed nothing. Standing atop the wall, he suddenly turned to gaze inside the city.

Old Zhang, sleepless all night, approached him, drinking some cold wine. After a long pause, he spoke, “Old Yang made another decision for you. Five years ago, I advised him not to leave you behind. A child should live safely in the city. I didn’t expect he was right—Ansheng Pass is where you belong. I don’t understand why he made that decision yesterday. It looks like a death sentence. But I hope this time he’s right.”

Sun Zikai lifted the wine jug from Old Zhang’s hand. Moments later, steam rose from its mouth, filling the air with the scent of wine. Old Zhang stared in disbelief.

Sun Zikai said, “Old Zhang, he’s right. We all know it. He has always done the right thing.”

One carriage after another rolled through the opened gate. Sun Zikai hadn’t noticed these vehicles the day before. Old Zhang said, “Six scouts checked last night. Those carriages carry gold and treasures. They’re rich beyond imagination. Who they are, I can’t say. Old Yang also sensed something off. No one outside says you killed barbarians, but Old Yang told the man. He saw they didn’t take you seriously, yet he wants you to go. Trusting his damn intuition… well, his intuition is really sharp, I’ll admit that.”

Bidding farewell to his “family,” Sun Zikai followed the carriages. Old Yang came out too. The two, large and small, smiled at each other. Old Yang said, “Boy, you’re the alpha, a beast. And you have wings. Ansheng Pass can’t hold you. You are free.”

Sun Zikai nodded and caught up with the carriages. Youshi called from the wall, urging her brother to return quickly…