CHAPTER 155: CH-155: CALM?

The orchard was no longer just rows of fruit-bearing trees—it had become part of the Root Division’s pulse. The evening light scattered in warm, golden shafts through the leaves, carrying the scent of ripening pears and the faint perfume of medicinal herbs growing along the edges.

Tian Shen walked the narrow earthen path between the trees, boots silent against the loam. He carried no spear today, only the small jade token that marked him as Root Division captain. To most, it was a symbol of authority. To him, it was a reminder that leadership was more about weight than privilege.

Feng Yin was ahead, kneeling beside a sapling she had planted weeks ago. The tiny plum tree was still fragile, its branches trembling in the evening breeze. Her hair was bound up loosely, strands catching the light in silver threads. She didn’t notice him at first.

"You’ve been here since noon," Tian Shen said as he approached.

She glanced up, smiling faintly. "I wanted to make sure it took root properly. A careless step could undo weeks of growth."

Tian Shen crouched beside her, his gaze lingering on the delicate shoots. "It’ll survive. You’ve seen to it yourself."

Feng Yin’s hands, dirt-streaked and steady, brushed over the leaves. "I hope so. Some things you can’t replant."

There was something unspoken there, but Tian Shen didn’t push. He had learned that patience was as much a part of leading as giving orders.

They sat in quiet for a moment, letting the orchard’s hum fill the space between them. Somewhere deeper among the rows, Little Mei’s laughter rang out, followed by Ji Luan’s exaggerated sighs. The rest of the division was enjoying the evening, no drills, no formations—just the ease of a day’s work done.

Tian Shen stood and extended a hand. "Come on. If you stay here too long, they’ll start thinking you’ve abandoned us for the trees."

She took his hand, rising gracefully. "And you? Would you be jealous?"

He met her gaze without flinching. "Of a tree? No. Of what it represents... maybe."

She tilted her head, studying him, but said nothing.

By the time they reached the central clearing, the Root Division had already set up for the night’s gathering. Lanterns hung from the orchard’s taller branches, casting rings of warm light on the ground. Low tables were arranged in a loose circle, laden with dishes brought from the Feilun Sect kitchens.

It wasn’t a festival, just a shared meal. But Tian Shen knew these moments were as vital as any training exercise. Unity wasn’t built in the midst of battle—it was forged in the quiet spaces between.

When they spotted him, the chatter eased. Not from fear, but respect. He wasn’t the type to demand attention, yet somehow it always found him.

"Captain," Ji Luan called, waving him over. "You’re late."

"I was in the orchard," Tian Shen replied.

Ji Luan smirked. "With Feng Yin, I see."

Before Tian Shen could respond, Little Mei piped up, "I think it’s nice. Better than you sulking over formations all night."

Laughter rippled through the group, and even Tian Shen let a small smile slip. They were relaxed around him now—something he’d fought for in subtle ways, breaking down the rigid formality that had once kept them distant.

Feng Yin moved to help with the food while Tian Shen took his seat. The warmth of the lantern light softened the sharpness of the world. For a brief while, there was no talk of enemies, no shadow of the Demon Sect or the Void Hand. Just the simple, grounding presence of comrades sharing space.

Later, after the meal and the teasing had faded, Tian Shen found himself alone again beneath the lantern tree. The jade token sat on the table before him. He turned it in his hands, the smooth surface cool against his skin.

He thought of the months that had passed since the Root Division’s formation. The victories, the narrow escapes, the quiet days like this one. Each carried its own weight.

Footsteps approached, and he didn’t need to look to know it was Feng Yin.

"You’re quiet tonight," she said, sitting opposite him.

"Thinking," he replied.

"About?"

He hesitated. "How strange it feels to have peace. Even for a day."

Feng Yin’s eyes softened. "Strange isn’t always bad, Tian Shen. You don’t have to be ready for a fight every moment."

"Maybe not," he said, "but the world doesn’t usually give warnings before it changes."

She leaned back, gazing up at the lantern’s swaying light. "Then take what you can now. When the change comes, you’ll face it better for having breathed."

Her words lingered in the air like the faint scent of the orchard blooms.

Tian Shen didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached into his robe and pulled out a folded parchment. When he opened it, Feng Yin saw not lists of recruits or tactical sketches, but a drawing—rough, untrained, yet full of care.

It was the orchard. The lantern tree at its center. Figures seated beneath it, faces half-recognizable, caught mid-laughter.

"You drew this," she said, surprised.

He shrugged. "Couldn’t sleep a few nights ago. Thought I’d put it on paper before I forgot."

She studied it, then looked at him. "You’re better at keeping things than you think."

He wasn’t sure if she meant the orchard, the division, or something else entirely. But for once, he didn’t need to know.

...

The lanterns burned lower, shadows growing deeper among the trees. In the distance, the sound of crickets rose. Somewhere in the dark, Drowsy shifted on her perch, her feathers catching the faintest glint of light.

The night was calm, and Tian Shen let himself believe—just for this moment—that it would stay that way.

Because here, in this small corner of the world, they had carved out something worth protecting.

And he intended to protect it, no matter how the wind changed.

...

The next morning broke with pale light and a cool breeze drifting through the orchard. Dew clung to the grass, glittering in the early sun. Tian Shen was already awake, standing at the edge of the clearing with his arms folded, eyes scanning the horizon.

It was not habit alone that had drawn him from sleep before the others. Something in the night air had felt... taut, as though the quiet was stretched too thin.

Behind him, footsteps crunched softly on the damp earth. Feng Yin approached, her hair still mussed from sleep, a steaming cup of tea in her hands.

"You’re up earlier than usual," she remarked.

"Couldn’t sleep," Tian Shen replied, not looking away from the distant treeline. "The wind shifted."

She raised an eyebrow. "That’s all it takes to unsettle you?"

"In my experience," he said evenly, "the wind only changes for a reason."

Feng Yin followed his gaze, but saw nothing out of place. The orchard was calm, the world still half-dreaming. Yet she didn’t dismiss his unease—Tian Shen wasn’t prone to false alarms.

"Should I wake the others?" she asked.

"Not yet," he said. "Let them have their rest. If something comes, they’ll need their strength."

They stood in silence for a while, the steam from her tea curling between them. Eventually, Tian Shen turned and walked toward the outer edge of the orchard, where a narrow trail led into the wild, unclaimed slopes beyond.

He did not take his spear. Instead, he moved quietly, every step a measured press into the earth. He did not need weapons to scout—his eyes and ears were sharper than steel.

The air beyond the orchard was different—cooler, sharper, with the faint scent of smoke. Not fresh, but old enough to have traveled far. His jaw tightened.

A rustle broke the quiet behind him. He turned, ready to act, but it was only Feng Yin again, her own steps noiseless on the leaf litter.

"You’re not subtle," he told her without heat.

"I wasn’t trying to be," she said. "You think I’d let you wander off alone if something is wrong?"

For a moment, they stood in the shade of the wild growth, the orchard’s orderly rows now hidden behind them. The breeze carried another faint trace of smoke, mingled with something metallic.

"Steel," Tian Shen murmured.

Feng Yin caught it too this time, and her posture shifted—loose, but alert. "Travelers?"

"Maybe," he said. "But travelers don’t hide their cooking fires this far from the roads."

They moved deeper into the brush, following the wind’s trail. The ground here was uneven, broken by roots and old stones. A bird cried out in the distance, startled into flight.

They found the remains of a camp not long after—a few stones blackened by fire, a half-burned scrap of cloth caught on a branch. The fabric was dyed a deep crimson, the edges singed.

Feng Yin crouched to study it. "Not local," she said.

Tian Shen nodded. "And not friendly."

He stood still for a long moment, weighing choices. Returning now meant keeping the orchard—and the Root Division—safe, but leaving this sign unexplored meant uncertainty, and uncertainty had teeth.

"We head back," he decided at last. "Double patrols for the next week. No one leaves alone."

Feng Yin gave him a sidelong look. "You’re certain this isn’t just a hunter or a lost caravan?"

"I’d rather overreact than bury someone," Tian Shen said simply.

They retraced their steps, the orchard’s lantern tree soon coming into view between the trunks. The air seemed warmer here, the scent of pears replacing the metallic tang.

Yet the calm no longer felt the same.

Tian Shen glanced at the jade token at his belt, its weight more noticeable than usual.

The wind had shifted—and it was only a matter of time before the reason revealed itself.