Ye Qin's heart clenched. He quickly pushed open the small courtyard gate, strode across the yard, and arrived at the door of the thatched hut. The hut was ancient; even the mud walls were cracked with fine fissures. Inside, there were only a few stools and chairs, and hunting implements—an iron fork and a bow—hung on the wall, along with some old animal hides, but everything was kept tidy and clean, free of any stench save for the aroma of herbal medicine.

A man so familiar he was etched in his memory lay inside, covered with thick, old hides, his body hunched over as he coughed incessantly. A woman, her face etched with worry, was tending a small pot of herbs boiling over a fire within. Two children, no older than ten, sat listlessly on a wooden bench nearby, resting their chins in their hands.

Ye Qin stood at the threshold, his pack still slung over his shoulder, staring blankly at his parents, whose temples were now streaked with white. Wasn't it just yesterday his father led him up the mountain to hunt, his movements so swift and sharp that they were the hunter Ye Qin most admired? Now, the old man was so ill he lacked the strength to rise from his bed.

His eyes grew red, and his lips trembled as he managed to utter, "Father! Mother!"

Hearing the familiar yet strangely distant cry, the woman’s hand shook. She turned in disbelief, staring at Ye Qin. "Qin'er? Is that Qin'er returned?!" She struggled to stand, trying to see clearly, swayed, and nearly fell.

"Mother, your son is home!"

Ye Qin’s eyes burned, immediately blurred by tears. He rushed forward and helped his agitated mother back onto the seat. His mother clutched his arm tightly, her hands tracing the slight gauntness of his face as she scrutinized him. "Our eldest son has returned!"

Old Man Ye, lying on the bed, heard his wife's call and his expression grew agitated, but he couldn't sit up. He choked back a sound, his emotions finally settling, and he murmured softly to himself, "It is good that you returned alive."

Ye Qin then moved to the bedside and examined his father’s injury. He saw a deep bite wound on the leg, inflicted by a wild wolf. Judging by the appearance, the wound had been inflicted over ten days ago and roughly dressed with some local herbs.

Once he fully assessed the damage, a measure of relief washed over him. It was only a flesh wound, not affecting bone or sinew. With the proper healing elixirs he carried, a few months of rest would allow for a full recovery. However, the herbs currently simmering in the pot were clearly inadequate; their potency was too weak. He needed to use the medicine he himself possessed.

Ye Qin nimbly removed the old herbs and tattered cloth from his father's leg. He washed the wound clean with clear water, then took out a small vial. He poured some of the specialized healing medicine from the Caiyao Hall directly onto the injury, then re-bandaged it with a clean strip of cloth.

The two children, perhaps ten years of age, watched him with timid curiosity.

Ye Qin managed a wry smile. When he left home, his younger siblings were tiny. Now, they didn't recognize him. He pulled out some sweets, candied haws, and trinkets from his pack to occupy them.

Only then did Ye Qin sit by the bed and begin chatting with his parents, recounting his experiences over the past few years. He kept the difficult parts vague, merely stating that he was working for a prominent family in the county town.

Father Ye's face was sallow. Upon hearing that only he and Da Niu had returned (The full text can be found on ar.16k.com), he coughed violently. "The rule passed down by our ancestors in the Great Mountains: going out to seek one's fortune after leaving home is like a bird leaving its nest, or an arrow shot from a bow. Until one has established a family and a trade, one cannot return. Qin'er, have you married?"

Ye Qin lowered his head and shook it once. "No."

Father Ye: "Have you established a trade?"

Ye Qin’s head dropped lower still. "No."

Father Ye erupted in anger: "Since you have neither taken a wife nor established yourself, why have you come back? The ancestral rules must not be broken! Tonight, you will kneel in the ancestral hall and beg forgiveness from all our forebears."

Mother Ye quickly intervened. "Husband, Qin'er just returned, why must you say such things?"

Father Ye stated sternly, "Are the rules left by generations of ancestors wrong? How many people can this poor mountain and harsh water of our Old Gully support? Is living outside not better than staying in the Old Gully?"

Ye Qin kept his head bowed, saying nothing, a lump forming in his throat. "Yes, your son understands. I have been studying various skills in the county town these past years and have achieved minor success. In a few days, I may have to travel to the prefectural capital of Pingzhou. It will be difficult to return after that, so I specifically came back to pay my respects to you both. I dare not linger at home."

Hearing that Ye Qin would soon depart, Father Ye's throat constricted, but in the end, he said no more.

Setting that aside for the moment, Ye Qin asked about the cause of his father's leg injury.

Mother Ye quickly explained: "A few days ago, your father went up the mountain and was chased by several wild wolves. He injured his leg accidentally. Fortunately, a few uncles and neighbors were there and managed to rescue him. It wasn't serious. The trouble is the herbs are hard to find, and I cannot climb the mountain myself, so the wound has been lingering. You must go thank those uncles this evening."

Ye Qin nodded.

Since Ye Qin was home for this rare occasion, Mother Ye happily stoked the fire to cook, adding some preserved meat Ye Qin had brought from the county town to make a simple coarse rice and meat porridge. The family ate a reunion meal together. While they weren't paying attention, Ye Qin crushed a Dew-Condensing Pill and sprinkled it over the dishes. The Dew-Condensing Pill was a spirit elixir for cultivators, but even for mortals, it had the effect of curing illness and prolonging life, vitalizing their spirit and energy. At the very least, it would ensure the family lived free from sickness and pain.

After dinner, he tossed a Dew-Condensing Pill into the village's only well, considering it repayment to the fellow villagers. Then, he went door-to-door, visiting the uncles and neighbors.

The villagers were overwhelmingly delighted and offered him enthusiastic hospitality. Learning that Ye Qin had studied skills in the county town, some even hoped to marry their daughters to him. Several fifteen or sixteen-year-old girls from the village peered at Ye Qin from their doorways, blushing shyly. Although Ye Qin's appearance was ordinary, in the village, he was considered simple and refined—one of the few handsome youths.

Ye Qin could only laugh ruefully. He thanked every household and politely declined these offers.

That night, wrapped in a thick, old padded coat his mother had given him, he knelt in the Ye family ancestral hall for the entire night to reflect on his faults. For him, kneeling for a night was hardly a hardship.

He was fortunate enough to see once more the autobiographical manuscript housed in a wooden box within the ancestral hall—a book bequeathed to his descendants by an ancestor who was a scholar ten generations prior.

The book was covered in dust and decaying badly; few in the village could still read it.

The book recorded some simple matters that could barely be deciphered: Ten generations ago, the Ye clan had been a literate commoner family in Zhuqi County. Later, to escape wartime calamity, they fled with several dozen other common families to this poor, remote region to survive. The scholar ancestor, having endured great hardship, left the book as a warning to his descendants to settle quietly in this desolate land. If any future generations were to leave home to venture out, they must remain humble, never contesting officials, never fighting bandits, following Heaven's decree, and living a life of quiet forbearance.

Ye Qin finished reading, closed the book, and sat in silent contemplation for a long while, sighing softly in his heart.

In this world, how could one survive without striving or fighting?

Ten generations ago, Zhuqi County suffered disaster from soldiers; ten generations later, it suffered chaos from gangs. Where was the end? In times of turmoil, where could there be any peaceful place? Fortunately, the village was situated in a remote, desolate area. Although impoverished, at least no soldiers or martial artists bothered them here, making it a relatively safe haven.

Even thinking this, his mind was intensely focused on devising a long-term plan for the survival of the Ye family and this small mountain gully village in this era.

Ye Qin pondered for a long time, concluding that the long-term solution lay in two paths: the Civil and the Martial. The Civil path nurtures wisdom; the Martial path strengthens the body.

He took a small knife and sought out a piece of hard rock from the nearby ridge, carving it into a stone "book" one foot square and two inches thick. He then inscribed tiny, fly-like characters upon it, writing swiftly, leaving it in the ancestral hall for future generations to remember.

He had intended to carve a fragment of the Sitting in Forgetfulness Scripture cultivation method, but after long deliberation, he refrained. The dangers on the path of immortal cultivation far surpassed those faced by ordinary mortals. Leaving behind such a manual might bring unpredictable consequences, potentially not a blessing for the Ye descendants. Better to let nature take its course.

The next day, he instructed Da Niu to spend a little money to invite a poor scholar from the nearby town to teach literacy in the village. He also handed over several volumes of low-level martial arts manuals he had purchased in the county market to Da Niu and his village companions, telling them to learn on their own and then teach the other villagers to temper their bodies. This way, even if they encountered wolves in the future, they would have a means of defense. By promoting these Civil and Martial paths, perhaps in a few years or decades, the village's situation might change, and he could leave with peace of mind.

.