Senior sister, stop working and go home for dinner.

Chapter 410 Waiting at the foot of the mountain, answering from the mountain

Time travel is a fantastic adventure for anyone, isn't it? Wang Rui had read too many novels where the protagonist, after time-traveling, either possessed extraordinary talent or had incredible luck, advancing triumphantly all the way to immortality. Although Wang Rui knew he wasn't destined to be a protagonist, since he was already here, he had to give it a try, right?

But in the past two years, the work he has done has nothing to do with cultivating immortality.

Registering, guiding, explaining the faucets, comforting the new refugees, helping Fatty Li unload goods, delivering letters to the Feng family, running errands, doing odd jobs... he did more work than he did back home, yet he never complained. It wasn't that he didn't want to fix it, but that he dared not bring it up.

Master Chen was busy breaking through his limits, intimidating Qingyang Valley, settling refugees, and going into seclusion as soon as he transmigrated. Fatty Li is Master Chen's disciple, Xiao Ling'er is a legitimate disciple of the Yunyin Sect, and Zhao Mengmeng, Xiao Man, Qi Lan, Huiming... aren't they all well-known and respected figures?

Who does he think he is?

rich second generation?

Before his transmigration, this identity allowed him to live a more carefree life than most people. He didn't have to worry about making a living, squeeze onto the subway during rush hour, or have to put up with his boss's attitude. He could do whatever he wanted and go wherever he wanted.

After time travel, this identity became a joke.

But now, Chen Anran asked on her own initiative.

Wang Rui's Adam's apple bobbed violently a few times. He wanted to say, "I want to cultivate immortality," he wanted to say it forcefully, he wanted to say it with righteous indignation. But the words that came out were a cautious whisper:

"Can...I fix it?"

"Why not?"

Wang Rui opened his mouth, unsure how to respond.

Chen Anran stood up and walked up to him.

"You came here from three thousand years ago, and for two years and three months, you haven't slacked off for a single day. Resettling refugees, registering them, guiding them, running errands—which of these tasks weren't you doing?"

Wang Rui lowered his head and stared at his toes.

"Those...those are all minor matters."

"A small matter?"

Chen Anran shook his head but didn't explain anything. He only said, "From today onwards, you, Sun Wei, and Zhang Hao will cultivate under Fatty Li. You will be considered outer disciples of the Cloud Hidden Sect."

Wang Rui was stunned.

"We'll wait until we enter the Qi Refining stage," Chen Anran continued, "before we can discuss whether to officially include it in the recording."

Wang Rui stood there, stunned, for a long time.

It wasn't until the mountain breeze blew through the bamboo forest, causing the handful of wild fruit in his hand to sway slightly, that he finally came to his senses.

"Master Chen..." His voice was a little dry, "You mean... Sun Wei, Zhang Hao, and I can all cultivate?"

Chen Anran looked at him without saying a word.

Wang Rui suddenly felt his eyes burning.

He wanted to say something—to say "thank you," to say "I will definitely try my best," to say "I won't let you down." But those words stuck in his throat, and he couldn't squeeze out a single one.

He just stood there, like a child who had finally received an answer.

Chen Anran withdrew his gaze and looked back at the distant mountains.

"Let's go down the mountain," he said. "Tell the men Wei Shuai sent to wait a moment; they'll see a good show soon. Then go find Qi Lan and have her bring some people to maintain order."

………………

Down the mountain, at the eastern entrance of the settlement.

Zhou Da stood there, having waited for almost half an hour.

The twenty elite cavalrymen of the Western Army behind him were still leading their horses, with twenty boxes still loaded on the packhorses, motionless. The young man named Wang Rui had gone and never returned; no one came to greet them, and no one chased them away.

They stood there like twenty stakes driven into the ground.

"Zhou Tou," the young scout behind him couldn't help but lower his voice, "this Yunyin Sect... they're really showing no respect to Commander Wei! We're supposed to be from the Western Army, and we've been standing here waiting for half an hour without even a bowl of water being offered..."

"Shut up." Zhou Da Tou didn't even turn around.

The scout shrank back, not daring to speak again.

Zhou Da gazed at the unfamiliar cluster of buildings ahead, at the ordinary people working in the morning light, and at the distant mountain shrouded in mist, yet felt an unusual calm in his heart.

He spent twenty years in the Western Army, and the first thing he learned was to wait.

Waiting for enemy activity, waiting for orders, waiting for the right moment. Sometimes, the wait would last for three days and three nights, lying motionless in the snow, watching the lights flicker in the barbarian camps, watching the morning star rise and set in the sky.

What's half an hour?

The sun gradually rose higher.

Zhou Da remained standing still, motionless. The twenty elite cavalrymen of the Western Army behind him also remained standing, the twenty boxes still loaded on their packhorses, like a group of forgotten stone sculptures.

People passed by them one after another.

Farmers carrying hoes to the fields, women carrying wooden basins to the well to wash clothes, children chasing and playing, peddlers carrying loads... When these people pass by, they always glance at them curiously, but only glance, and then continue on their way, chatting and laughing, or working.

No one questioned them, no one drove them away, and no one even showed the timidity that refugees often display when they see government officials.

just like……

Just like those twenty armored and sword-wielding soldiers, they were nothing more than a few extra trees and stones by the roadside, nothing to make a fuss about.

The young scout finally couldn't hold back any longer.

"Zhou Tou," he lowered his voice, a complex emotion welling up inside him, "why aren't these people afraid of us?"

"Zhou Tou," he lowered his voice, a complex emotion welling up inside him, "why aren't these people afraid of us?"

Zhou Da did not turn around.

"Why be afraid?"

The scout opened his mouth, but didn't know how to answer.

Why be afraid?

He was a member of the Western Army, a scout who had survived the northern frontier battlefields, his hands stained with the blood of barbarians. He had seen countless looks at him in his life—fear, awe, fawning, hatred. But he had never seen anything like this…

That look in his eyes, as if he didn't exist.

"They're not afraid of officials," another, slightly older scout suddenly spoke up from behind, his voice low. "And they're not afraid of soldiers either."

The young scout was stunned.

"They're not even afraid of immortal masters," the old scout continued, his gaze falling on a woman squatting by a tap washing vegetables in the distance. "Why would they be afraid of us?"

The young scout followed his gaze.

After washing the vegetables, the woman turned on the tap, stood up with the wooden basin in her hand, and glanced in their direction. Their eyes met, the woman paused slightly, then smiled at them, nodded, and walked away with the basin.

He just left like that.

There was no bending of the knees, no bowing of the head, no quickening of the pace to avoid it.

It's like meeting a young neighbor in a village, nodding, exchanging greetings, and then going your separate ways.

The young scout's Adam's apple bobbed violently.

"Where exactly is this place..." he murmured.

No one answered him.

Zhou Da continued to gaze ahead, at the mountain peak shrouded in clouds and mist.

He had an answer in his heart.

This is a place where ordinary people can learn to stand up again.

The third quarter of the hour of Si (9:45 AM).

Wang Rui finally appeared at the end of the road.