Lin Haoran walked through the streets of the village, taking in the sight before him. Not even a year had passed since the disaster, yet so much had already changed. The population had nearly increased tenfold.
It was all thanks to the steady influx of wounded, displaced, and survivors who had migrated here after being saved. What once was a scattered group of broken people had now become a real village—one with structure, life, and purpose.
With the village now settled at the foot of the Sky Fall Mountain Range, it was officially given a name: Sky Fall Village.
At its center stood a stone monument, a silent witness to everything that had been lost and built since the disaster. In one corner of that monument, etched in clean and careful strokes, was the short poem Lin Haoran had written months ago.
The buildings were no longer simple wooden huts—they were slowly evolving into solid structures, even hinting at the future possibility of a proper town. The village was growing.
As he walked, villagers greeted him left and right. Some bowed, others nodded respectfully. Lin Haoran either returned the gesture with a nod or ignored them altogether—it depended entirely on his mood.
No one seemed to find that rude. In this world, martial artists were held in high regard—much like how doctors or civil servants were respected on Earth. The villagers treated him with a mix of reverence and awe.
Eventually, his steps took him to the poorest part of the village. Here, things were different.
Fewer people greeted him, and those who did looked at him with curiosity rather than familiarity. To them, he was just a well-dressed child wandering where he didn't belong. None recognized him.
Lin Haoran didn't mind.
He wasn't here to be recognized.
He came with a purpose.
Without hesitation, he activated [Astral Sight], and in an instant, everything around him sharpened.
He scanned the alleys, rooftops, broken fences, and dark corners of this district. His gaze cut through every obstruction.
And finally, in a run-down house tucked deep in a back alley, he saw what he was looking for—two figures, around 7 or 8 years old. A boy and a girl. Siblings.
They sat huddled in the cold silence of their home, unaware that fate had just noticed them.
And as for why he was looking for them? that was simple.
After crushing the boar-like beast with a thought, Lin Haoran had a new idea.
Opening another healing branch was now out of the question—too risky, too much effort for too little return. But there was actually another route worth exploring.
A patrol force for hunting the wild beast!! and perhaps protect the villager!!
Well, more accurately—just two people patroling for now.
After all, both healing and killing wild beasts had brought him Destiny Points. If one way was starting to slow down, why not double up? Why not do both?
As soon as the thought came, it stuck. The more he thought about it, the more reasonable it sounded.
And as for the reason he picked the two siblings?
They were orphans—like Mu Qinglan had once been. That meant no ties, no attachments, and more importantly, no one to cry for them if something went wrong during the patrols. Hunting wild beasts was still dangerous, no matter how you looked at it. Accidents weren't just possible—they were guaranteed, eventually.
But the two were siblings. That meant at least some loyalty between them. If one got in trouble, the other wouldn't run. That kind of basic unity was more valuable than fake talent or empty words.
With that, he walked toward the broken house without a second thought.
After reaching the dilapidated house, Lin Haoran paused in front of the crooked doorway.
The place looked like it had been abandoned years ago—wooden planks broken and scattered, the roof patched up with dirty cloth and mismatched tiles. The walls leaned as if they were trying to collapse but just hadn't gotten around to it yet. The cold wind passed straight through the gaps.
Inside, the siblings huddled together.
The boy was barely holding it together—his clothes were thin, ragged, and his lips were blue from the cold. He had a piece of cloth wrapped tightly around his right arm, clearly to stop some bleeding. It had already gone stiff from dried blood. His face was sharp with hunger, eyes hollow like he hadn't slept in days.
His name was Yin Cheng.
The girl looked to be only a little younger, her eyes dull and watchful. She was feeding her brother half of a cold, dried-up bun, carefully breaking it in two like it was some kind of rare treasure. Her fingers were cracked and red from frostbite. Yet she didn't complain once.
Her name was Yin Xue.
She just glanced up when Lin Haoran entered.
There was no fear, no anger—just the kind of wariness that comes from being stepped on too many times. And behind that, something else. A hint of fire.
Lin Haoran stood there silently for a moment.
Then he spoke. Calm, casual.
"Do you want to live better than this?"
The siblings were stunned and didn't respond immediately.
He continued, "Come with me. Food, shelter, strength. I'll give all of it to you. In exchange, you'll follow me—and do what I say."
Yin Cheng narrowed his eyes. Yin Xue looked at her brother. Then she stood up without hesitation and pulled him to his feet.
"We'll go."
Lin Haoran nodded, as if it had already been decided from the beginning.
He didn't ask their names.
He didn't need to.
He would eventually come to know them, and in this rotten world where lives were as cheap as dirt, names didn't matter until they proved they could survive.
What truly matters was character!!
He turned around, and the siblings followed.
The walk back to the shrine was quiet. Snow had begun to fall again, dusting their hair and shoulders. The villagers gave curious glances, but no one stopped them. No one dared.
By the time they reached the base of the Sky Fall Mountain, the siblings' expressions had already started to change. The moment they saw the Grand shrine above—the engraved pillars, and echos of bells, and the stone steps that led into something more mysterious than anything they had known—their eyes widened.
For the first time, there was light in them.
Lin Haoran didn't speak. He simply led them inside.