Volume One: The Wild Boy Chapter Four: Echoes Along the Hundred-Li Pavilion

Once, sages bearing the burden of guilt defended the remote, bitter frontier against foreign foes. To maintain contact and preserve the flame of civilization, they established signal towers every hundred miles. Over time, the border’s isolation became notorious; its guardians endured not only the harsh cold but also profound loneliness. Within that solitude, the hope for news from the towers became the brightest light in their hearts, even if that light held no promise.

Maple leaves chill beside the reeds, untouched by autumn’s bitterness, unawaited by winter’s severity. Yu Baili and Lin Changtian meet across a hundred miles, unmoved by joy or sorrow.

The spring breeze passes the Jade Gate, and at last Yu Baili, unable to endure further, recalls the legend of Lin Changtian, the god of war famed for fighting atop ceilings. He asks, “Do you come to this rear mountain every day?” Lin Changtian says nothing, only nods.

Yu Baili lapses into silence, unsurprised by Lin Changtian’s calm. He has read Lin Changtian’s existing records, all matching the life of a normal man. Yet these records are the only ones Yu Baili had to review twice before forming an impression, which he found absurd. This is why he now waits here for Lin Changtian.

With no reply forthcoming, Lin Changtian walks straight toward Yu Baili. He likes the embroidered crane robes, but feels no fondness for their owner.

He stands before Yu Baili, scrutinizing him with the same gaze Yu Baili used when questioning him in the forest.

One is intruding, the other relentless.

Yu Baili furrows his brow. For a moment, he feels he should apologize for his “rudeness.” Surprised at himself, he nonetheless bows properly in apology. This unsettles Lin Changtian. In his nineteen years, he has endured insults, bullying, false friendships, and pretentious concern—little evils that intoxicate the world with endless sorrow. Barbarism hides within civilization; the order that divides life and death by strength is suddenly upended in an awakening that ascends to the heavens. Yet, when animal instincts surge, this guest in white appears, and all petty squabbles retreat into filth.

This guest in white apologizes to a frail scholar.

Lin Changtian feels guilty and awkward. He asks, “Are you apologizing to me?”

“Yes.” Yu Baili straightens, his posture light as if boneless. After smiling at Lin Changtian, he stows away his doubts and prepares to leave.

“It’s a bit embarrassing. I’ve never had anyone bow to me in my life.” Lin Changtian scratches his head, looking at Yu Baili awkwardly. “Actually, I have a wish—since childhood, no one has ever kowtowed to me… could you do it just once?”

Yu Baili’s smile freezes. He glances deeply at Lin Changtian, then turns and walks away.

Lin Changtian remains rooted to the spot, gazing at the fading silhouette beneath the starlit mist, full of regret.

He thinks, if only he had prepared some New Year’s money for the boy—perhaps there would have been a turning point.

Lin Changtian watches the distance; that person walks so swiftly.

...

The next day, the Boundary Keeper arrives as promised. Yu Baili stands at the podium, scanning the crowd carelessly. Upon seeing Lin Changtian, he offers a slight smile as greeting.

Once everyone is settled, the guest in white begins to speak: “All of you have heard, more or less, about the recent changes sweeping the world. Many among you have awakened new abilities as a result. First, congratulations—after all, this is a glimpse into the path of cultivation, though you are still many steps away from becoming Boundary Keepers.”

Yu Baili pauses, then continues: “Awakening does not mean you may trample law at will. The enforcers have merely become Boundary Keepers. Our rules—you will learn them in time. That’s all from me. For the rest, I’ll trouble you, sir, to explain further.”

He bows to a scholarly elder, and after the elder nods, Yu Baili and the others in white depart, leaving the old man smiling warmly at the students.

“If all goes well, I’ll be your teacher from now on,” he says, slowly moving to the edge of the podium. With a smile he adds, “I’m just a poor scholar who’s taught half his life, not a Boundary Keeper. I can’t instruct you on cultivation, but I do know a bit about the oddities of Boundary Keepers. I won’t claim to answer your questions, but I can at least share some basic knowledge.”

He pauses, takes out a tea set, and begins preparing the leaves in his pot, ignoring the room full of students.

As the tea boils, the classroom grows ever noisier. The old man pays no mind, sipping his tea slowly. The taste moistens his tongue, and satisfied, he resumes: “This tea—these leaves—are remarkable. Today, let’s start with the origin of the Boundary Keepers, shall we?”

Some nod, some scoff, some gaze out the window, others sleep.

Lin Changtian is curious; feeling hungry, he gnaws at his fingernails.

“First you must understand: Boundary Keepers and awakening… well, they’re actually unrelated. The term ‘Boundary Keeper’ is new, only adopted in recent years. Previously, they were simply called Cultivators. Their existence dates back a thousand years; the earliest were gifted saints who passed down countless methods to aid later generations—these were the first seekers of immortality.”

He seems to recall something, sips his tea again, and his expression grows wistful yet deeply moved. “Beyond that, there’s little to tell. The tale is old, full of secrets, and few are revealed publicly. The details you’ll learn only if fate allows.”

Some students droop their heads, others sleep; most find the elder’s story dull.

Even the highest enthusiasm is ground away.

Lin Changtian, however, is different. He finishes his fingernails, staring blankly, fixated on the old man’s teacup, wishing for a sip to moisten his throat.

“More important is today’s situation, which you must understand. The environment is extremely complex. World order must be rebuilt, and as for the unknown calamities facing humanity, we know nothing.”

“So, was what happened in ’99 true? Our civilization has developed to this point, yet foreign ambitions remain exposed. Unfazed, with a spear in hand, we’ll sever the enemy!” The solemn Strength Brother stands and salutes the elder. He is always earnest.

Since Yu Baili took him aside for a lesson on the ‘core values of Boundary Keepers,’ he’s been acting twitchy, constantly muttering strange words.

The old man looks at Strength Brother, half amused, half helpless. After a moment, he replies seriously: “It’s not as dire as you say, though indeed, our ‘Earth Defense Force’ has encountered problems.”

“Damn, is there truly no Diga in this world?” Strength Brother laments. The students’ eyes turn mischievous; their interest is rekindled.

“No,” the old man’s face becomes calm again, but his words plunge the classroom into silence.

“Once, sages bearing their guilt defended the bitter frontier against foreign foes. It has been a thousand years. Even in modern times, the ‘Sin Clan’ left by those sages secretly guards the central plains. Yet, after the Sword Uprising in the South Sea, it is said that seven thousand Boundary Keepers in the northern border were slaughtered, their entire tribe wiped out, women and children alike—border defenses shattered.”

He leaves one event unspoken: it is said that on that day, at the Bailei Signal Tower, when flames raged and cries of battle echoed, it happened to be Mid-Autumn beyond the pass, families gathered, lanterns glowing.

Amidst the carnage, a figure in white fought from the flames to the land of peace. People called him Yu Baili.