As Mais crossed the walls of Yellow City in the freezing silence of the night, he was not just a shadow, but like the wind itself. He had not yet reached the Sensing stage of the Wind Tao, but he felt he was not far off. Every time his feet touched the snow, he felt the vibration of the crystals in his heart, and these vibrations tried to form a living map of the city in his mind. Or rather, he was trying to make them do so. Just as with the Wind Tao, Mais was on the verge of making progress in the Earth Tao as well. If he reached the Stepping stage, it would not grant him sight, of course, but he would at least be able to sense presences upon the ground to some extent. With his understanding of Wind and Earth, he would attempt to set sail toward the Vibration Tao. This was Mais's plan for using the Tao to fight.
Kasuur's presence sat deep within the mansion like a massive, stagnant mass of energy. He was only a Sage, but he was growing stronger with each passing day. In terms of the Tao, Kasuur was not strong. Nevertheless, he found it easier than anyone else to distribute the Earth Tao throughout all his cores. He did so with a speed that even Mais had not expected. Mais closed his breath and his pores, making his energy signature as lifeless as that of a stone. Evading Kasuur's sharp senses was as dangerous as walking on the edge of a sword. He was aware that Kasuur's perception had reached an unusual dimension. The technique that allowed Mais to hide his presence was merely a Sage-level technique, yet Mais had mastered this silent dance.
As he slid into the cold stone corridors of the house, the faint scent of dampness and fresh snow brushed his nose. Just as he was about to head for the stairs, he heard that fragile voice coming from the darkness. At first, he treated it as a mere presence, but shortly after, he recognized the owner of the voice. Valeria was huddled among the shadows in the corner, her head buried in her knees, shaking. Her sobs were like the sounds of small, wounded birds echoing in the empty corridor. Mais stopped.
When the young girl raised her head, the pure despair in her eyes could not touch Mais's soul. Still, that broken tone of voice was enough. "Mais..." Valeria whispered, her voice trembling. "My father... He can't breathe anymore. Please, I couldn't tell anyone, I was afraid to disturb Lord Kasuur, but he... he is slipping away."
Without a single word, Mais took Valeria by the arm. They stepped back out from the way they came, into the frost of the night. They went toward the other side of the city, where the glittering buildings ended and poverty turned into muddy streets—the slums. Valeria's house was no different from a shack built of makeshift planks, where the wind seeped through every hole. Under normal circumstances, Valeria and her father were not this poor, but Valeria had exhausted her entire salary to buy medicine and had likely been deceived. Since Valeria did not want to inform Mais of such details, he had been unable to help her. Valeria had not said anything to Anika either. She had taken medicine from her father's friends and acquaintances, but her father was not very clever either. His friends were not well-intentioned. Consequently, they had fallen into a difficult situation. The air inside was filled with the heavy, sweetish scent of illness and approaching death.
The old man lay on his thin mattress, reduced to skin and bone, making rasping sounds as his chest rose and fell irregularly. Mais placed his fingertips on the man's forehead. The flame of life was flickering like a candle about to go out. "Do not be afraid," Mais said calmly. He pulled out a green pill that did not even radiate a glow. It was merely waste to him. To this man, it was salvation.
He placed the pill under the man's tongue and, with a very fine, gentle flow of energy leaked from his palm, ensured the medicine mixed into the blood. Within seconds, the man's wheezing stopped. The purplish shadow on his face gave way to a pale but healthy pink. Valeria, kneeling in a corner, watched this change in a silence full of dread and admiration. The tears had dried on her face but were beginning to well up again. For the first time in months, her father had fallen into a peaceful sleep.
"Incredible..." Valeria whispered, as her tears poured out once more. "You... you cultivators are truly different. After all this effort and pain, I just... I thought death was irresistible. Just a simple pill and he... he is healed." The despair in her gaze combined with a deep determination. "Is there no path for me as well? A path to walk to resist despair?"
That way, when she encountered hardship and lost, she would at least not blame the world and would have done her best. Mais understood this. He could empathize with Valeria.
Mais heard Valeria's call for change. Yet, he hesitated. There were things he should not do for a mere ordinary person. He could gain nothing from an ordinary person. Valeria could not be a cultivator. She was useless to Mais.
So why?
Mais pulled an old, worn book from inside his robes and handed it to her. "This is a botany book," he said. "Inside it is the soul of plants, the language of the earth. Cultivation is not just swinging a sword; it is understanding the world. And... it is not something everyone can do. Still, there are different paths. If you truly want this, start by memorizing the name and temperament of every single leaf in this book."
Valeria took the book with a serious expression on her face. How long had it been since she learned to read? And now she had to study a book she struggled even to lift. She was intimidated. Yet, she wanted to do her best.
Mais instructed Valeria to stay with her father for a while and wait for him to recover. As he stepped out the door into the freezing air of the street, Valeria called out from behind him: "Mais, wait!"
Mais turned around. Even though there was only darkness, he somehow found himself trying to imagine Valeria. A little girl standing in hesitation by the door on this cold winter day, just as he was a little boy leaving through that door.
"I'm sorry... That day, when those servants died... We all have fears, and you had your justified reasons. What happened wasn't entirely your fault; I'm sorry for blaming you."
Mais stopped. He turned his back to Valeria again, his shoulders slumped slightly as if carrying the weight of the winter night. "Do not lie to yourself, Valeria," he said in a tone as cold as ice but honest. "Whatever my reasons were, I was the one who took those lives. This reality changes neither with an apology nor with time. I do not want to cover the truth with lies. I want you to live knowing that I did this, even if I was right." He paused for a moment, and as snowflakes fell upon his hair, he continued: "Still... when your father recovers, will you return to my side? Will you let me listen to the world through your voice, and read those books to me?"
Valeria's "Yes" was like a vow lost within the wind.
Just as Mais was about to blend into the darkness, he felt a soft, cold explosion on the back of his neck. He started in surprise. When he heard that crystal-clear laughter coming from behind him, a real smile appeared on his lips for the first time in months. Valeria was challenging him with a handful of snow she had taken from the ground. Mais quickly leaned down, gathered a handful of snow, and using the young girl's laughter, threw it toward her joyous laughter, barely managing to be accurate.
Under the dim light of the street lamps, beyond approaching wars, spilled blood, and heavy fates, two children were enjoying the last snow of winter. When the sun rose tomorrow, this snow would melt, and the new storms brought by spring would begin; but at that moment, there were only floating snowflakes and innocent laughter echoing in the air.