Volume One: Youth Enters the World Chapter Eighty-Four: Greenwood Island

Putting the disc away, Fang Tian didn’t feel the slightest bit sleepy. He thought he might as well go to the prow to breathe in some sea air. As he walked to the front of the ship, he saw Zhang Cheng, the man he had rescued, already standing there. Hadn’t he told him to get some rest? Why was he out here alone? With this question in mind, Fang Tian approached and stood beside him.

“Brother Zhang Cheng, you’re still injured. It’s best you go and rest.”

Zhang Cheng turned around, surprised to see Fang Tian. He had only wanted to be alone for a while, not expecting that Fang Tian would come as well.

“Greetings, young hero. My mind is in such turmoil that I can’t sleep at all.”

“The dead cannot return. Please try to restrain your grief.” Fang Tian understood that Zhang Cheng was still tormented by the massacre of his sect at the hands of pirates. From his murmurs even in sleep, it was clear that those who died had meant as much to him as family.

“I understand. It’s just that such a calamity happened so suddenly. My heart cannot move on,” Zhang Cheng said softly, his expression dark and downcast.

“By the way, Brother Zhang Cheng, you mentioned you’re from the Clear Creek Sect?”

“Yes.”

“I’m headed to Greenwood Island as well. When we arrive, I can see you safely ashore.”

“I heard from the steward that you’re bound for Greenwood Island. When we get there, I’ll inform my sect and ensure your life-saving grace is properly acknowledged.”

“No need for that. I dislike trouble,” Fang Tian said, refusing. He had no wish to attract further complications, especially since he would soon have to assume a new identity to enter the sect. Such notoriety would only make things harder.

When Zhang Cheng heard this, he became agitated and quickly replied, “That won’t do. If you hadn’t saved us, we’d have long since perished at those pirates’ hands, suffering unspeakable torment.”

“It was mere coincidence that I saved you. Don’t take it too much to heart. Such gratitude is more than I can bear—I’m not used to it,” Fang Tian replied with a gentle smile.

“I see. Well, I won’t insist. Since you come from Ice Spirit Island, I’ll go there myself to thank you one day. For someone so young to vanquish pirates, you must be a figure of great renown on your island,” Zhang Cheng praised.

A figure of renown? Fang Tian thought about it—perhaps so, though his reputation was far from spotless. In such a short time he had caused quite a stir on the island, and he couldn’t help but feel a touch of admiration for himself.

He smiled without answering, then turned to head back to the cabin, reminding Zhang Cheng not to stay out too long. Zhang Cheng nodded in reply.

Two days passed in a blink. As the island drew closer, Fang Tian saw from afar that it was shrouded in green. Only when they neared did he realize the island was covered in lush, verdant trees—a place full of vitality. The spirit ship moored at the port of Greenwood Island. Fang Tian called Zhang Cheng and Li Wan’er, telling them they had arrived.

The two emerged from the cabin. Seeing the familiar shores, Li Wan’er couldn’t hold back her sorrow, tears quickly streaming down her cheeks. Zhang Cheng hurried to comfort her.

Fang Tian glanced at them and said, “I have some matters to attend to. I won’t see you off further.”

Li Wan’er wiped her tears, bowed, and spoke softly, “Young hero, I will never forget your life-saving kindness.”

Zhang Cheng added, “Young hero Tianyu, are you sure you won’t come with us to the Clear Creek Sect as our guest?”

Fang Tian shook his head and declined, “No need. After such a grave event, you should hurry back and make your report. Don’t mind me.”

Seeing Fang Tian had no intention of joining them, Zhang Cheng said, “Very well, junior sister, let’s leave at once and report what’s happened.”

“Yes, senior brother,” Li Wan’er replied obediently.

Then Zhang Cheng clasped his fists and bowed deeply. “Young hero Tianyu, the mountains and rivers will reunite us. Until we meet again.”

“Until we meet again.” Fang Tian nodded.

With that, Zhang Cheng led Li Wan’er off the spirit ship and away into the distance. He had already told Fang Tian the location of the Clear Creek Sect, in case Fang Tian wished to visit.

After they left, Fang Tian turned to look for the steward, who, understanding that Fang Tian wanted a word, stepped forward respectfully to stand by his side.

Fang Tian paused before speaking, “I’ve arrived. You may return now.”

The steward knew his task was complete, but felt reluctant. Over the past few days, his respect for Fang Tian had only grown. How wonderful it would be if Fang Tian allowed him to stay by his side.

“My lord, you travel alone and have no one to handle daily affairs. Might I remain at your side as your steward?”

Having someone to attend to him would be convenient, but Fang Tian was unlike others—he would eventually have to leave the Northern Sand Islands and didn’t want any lingering attachments. He declined, “I appreciate your kind offer, but I have other matters to attend to. Having someone with me would only be inconvenient. You’d best return. With the pirates gone, your journey home should be safe.”

“I understand. May you have a safe journey, my lord.”

“Mm.”

Stepping off the ship, Fang Tian signaled for the steward to leave. Realizing he was no longer needed, the steward called to the crew to turn the spirit ship back toward Ice Spirit Island. He dared not linger, knowing the Third Prince might take offense if he was late in reporting back. If he could return early and explain all that had happened, perhaps the prince’s view of Fang Tian would change, and his resentment fade. After all, the steward himself had witnessed how Fang Tian had subdued the Third Prince.

Of course, Fang Tian knew nothing of the steward’s inner thoughts. He had always treated others with kindness, so long as they bore him no ill will.

The spirit ship vanished into the vast sea. Fang Tian did not linger but found a secluded spot to restore his appearance to its original form. Then, glancing in the direction Zhang Cheng had indicated, he set out. Thankfully the distance wasn’t far. With less than two months before the Grand Gathering of the Hundred Islands, he had to hurry—there was not a moment to lose.

After several days on the road, he drew ever closer to the Clear Creek Sect. He did not rest, traveling day and night. Though he passed through several small towns, he did not stop. For him, rest or no rest mattered little. Born with a spiritual body, he possessed an innate advantage—his spiritual power would not wane even without cultivation. Instead, the world’s spiritual energy constantly flowed into him, keeping his body perpetually vigorous. Thus, even without sleep, he felt no fatigue.

No troubles arose along the way. Yet, passing by a village, Fang Tian unconsciously slowed his steps, pausing to observe.

By the river, some washed clothes; by a haystack, others chopped wood. From a few chimneys, smoke curled into the sky. Some villagers, perhaps with little else to do, gathered to chat and laugh, likely sharing amusing stories.

Children played and tumbled nearby, and as they passed Fang Tian, one with muddy hands tugged at his sleeve before dashing off with a laugh. The child’s father, seeing this, hurried over, scolding the child and apologizing profusely to Fang Tian. Fang Tian only smiled and assured him it was nothing. The father, giving a slight bow, grabbed a small stick and chased after his child, scolding as he went.

Witnessing these villagers so full of hope for life reminded Fang Tian of his father—he could almost hear him calling, “Wake up, come and eat.” And little Lan bringing him delicious treats before he set out to sea. The voices of those villagers who had cared for him, every word of concern—he remembered them all.

A sourness welled in his chest, and Fang Tian’s eyes grew moist.

Seeing his expression, a villager kindly asked if something was the matter. Fang Tian smiled and said it was nothing. The villager scratched his head, puzzled, thinking Fang Tian was a rather odd fellow.

He composed himself, pushing aside his sorrow, and let a steadfast resolve take its place. One day, he would reclaim this laughter and peace. Now was not the time for grief.

Without lingering, Fang Tian pressed on. After several more days, he arrived at the foot of the mountain where the Clear Creek Sect stood. There was a town nearby, and Fang Tian decided to enter and learn more before making any decisions. Looking up at the distant peak, he knew the sect was atop the mountain Zhang Cheng had mentioned.

The Clear Creek Sect was built upon a mountain at the center of the island—the island’s sole power. All governance was conducted by members of the sect. Unlike the Zhao Dynasty, the Clear Creek Sect placed few restrictions on the people; the only commonality was their swift and decisive handling of evildoers, keeping the island peaceful.

Entering the town, Fang Tian sought out a small tavern, knowing that the best way to gather information was where people congregated. At this hour, many would be dining, making it easier to overhear useful tidbits.

Stepping inside, the attendant saw a guest and hurried over, bowing and smiling. “Welcome, sir, please come in.”

The attendant led Fang Tian to a vacant table near the back and asked for his order. Fang Tian, more interested in news than food, simply requested two good dishes and a pot of wine.

Understanding, the attendant wiped down the table and went off to prepare the meal.

Soon, the food and wine were set before him. The attendant invited Fang Tian to enjoy and went to serve other guests.

Pouring himself a cup of wine, Fang Tian took a bite, quietly circulating his spiritual power to heighten his hearing to the surrounding conversations.

Sure enough, his choice was correct. Not far ahead, at a table, a few men were drinking and discussing the Clear Creek Sect.

Fang Tian sipped his wine, appearing to eat, while he listened closely to their conversation.