Chapter 1: Tianmu Village

The vast expanse of the night sky stretched endlessly over Tianmu Village, each star a distant beacon of untold mysteries. Wei Lin sat cross-legged on the creaky wooden steps of Grandpa Lu’s small home, his gaze fixed upward. The air was still, save for the occasional rustling of leaves in the soft breeze. Crickets chirped, their rhythmic song filling the silence of the village night.

"They say the stars are the eyes of the immortals," Grandpa Lu’s voice broke the quiet, steady and warm. The old man leaned against the doorway, holding a steaming cup of tea. "Watching over the mortal world, measuring our deeds."

Wei Lin turned his head slightly. "Do you believe that, Grandpa?"

The old man chuckled, setting his tea aside as he eased himself onto the step beside Wei Lin. "Belief is a funny thing, child. When you’re young, it feels as real as the ground beneath your feet. But as you grow older and see the world for what it is, that belief gets tempered by hardship."

Wei Lin frowned, his youthful face etched with curiosity. "Then... are the storytellers’ legends just tales for children?"

Grandpa Lu’s expression grew distant, his eyes reflecting the faint glow of the stars. "Who’s to say? The world is vast, far beyond the hills and forests you’ve seen. Perhaps the stories hold a grain of truth. Perhaps they’re warnings or aspirations passed down through the ages. What matters is what you choose to make of them."

Wei Lin looked down at his calloused hands, flexing his fingers. He had heard the villagers speak of such legends before, always dismissing them with a laugh. But to him, the tales of mighty cultivators battling ancient evils and rising to immortality felt like a spark of hope in an otherwise mundane life.

"Do you think someone like me could ever... become like them?" he asked softly, the question lingering in the still air.

Grandpa Lu studied the boy for a long moment, his gaze kind but measured. "Greatness doesn’t sprout overnight, Lin’er. The soil must be tilled, seeds planted, watered, and nurtured. You’ve got the spirit, but the path is long and treacherous."

Wei Lin’s eyes returned to the stars, a flicker of determination igniting within them. "Then I’ll work harder. Even if it’s far away, I want to see that world. I want to... protect the people I care about. Like in the stories."

Grandpa Lu’s voice softened, carrying an ancient weight. "You know, the old stories don’t just speak of immortals or gods. They speak of cultivators, men and women who climbed mountains of hardship to wield power beyond mortal comprehension. Some say that the first ones were no different than you and me, living simple lives… until they found something. A source of inner strength, or a calling. A great force that changed them."

Wei Lin turned to him, intrigued. "A force? What do you mean?"

Grandpa Lu’s eyes flickered, like he was choosing his words carefully. "There are places in this world where the veil between the mortal realm and the heavens is thinner. Some say these places are where power can be found, where even the lowliest cultivator might stumble upon a source of energy, or a relic from ancient times—something that could awaken their very soul, make them stronger than they ever dreamed."

Wei Lin leaned forward slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. "And the Voidwood? Does it have such relics?"

Grandpa Lu glanced at Wei Lin. "Since we were young, we’ve always been taught that the Voidwood isn’t just one thing," he said, his voice calm but serious. "The forest stretches endlessly, and not all parts of it are dangerous. Around Tianmu Village, the land is still… ordinary. The trees grow tall, the animals roam freely, and the air is clean. It’s a blessing, really. But the deeper you go… the more things begin to change.”

Wei Lin leaned in, intrigued. "Change how?"

"The air thickens, and breathing becomes harder with every step,” Grandpa Lu continued, his eyes flickering with a distant memory. "The trees twist into shapes that defy nature. Strange lights appear at night, and some say they’ve heard voices—whispers carried on the wind from something that isn’t human. That’s where the real Voidwood begins… and where those relics are said to hide. But no one knows the cost of finding them.”

Wei Lin’s thoughts raced. “If these relics are so powerful, why hasn’t anyone in the village gone to look for them?”

Grandpa Lu sighed, his gaze turning to the boundary stones that marked the outskirts of the Voidwood, just beyond the village. “We know better than to stray from the paths through the safer parts of the Voidwood, that connect settlements like ours. Those paths are ancient, and we trust them.” He smiled ruefully. “Our village… we’re just ordinary folk. But to do as you say, and venture deep into the forest… that’s something only those cultivators desperate for power might dare to do.”

Wei Lin looked toward the dark horizon, feeling a pull—a strange curiosity about the forest’s depths, a sense that the Voidwood was a place of both great danger and opportunity. The dark expanse of trees stretched endlessly into the distance, their shapes barely visible under the starry sky.

"Do you think anyone will ever go?" Wei Lin asked, his voice soft but tinged with excitement.

Grandpa Lu’s eyes softened, but his voice remained serious. "Perhaps. The world has never lacked folk with ambition, Lin’er. The power those cultivators sought hasn’t faded—it’s still there, waiting. But be careful what you seek. Power comes with a cost."

Wei Lin’s expression became solemn. "I’ll remember that, Grandpa."

Grandpa Lu patted him on the back, his touch reassuring. "Time for bed, boy. The fields won’t tend themselves in the morning."

Wei Lin nodded, though his thoughts were far from the quiet village that had been his world all his life. As he stood, one last glance upward revealed the stars shining a little brighter, as though they, too, were waiting—watching.

The late afternoon sun filtered through the thick forest canopy, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. Wei Lin crouched among the roots of a gnarled tree, his fingers deftly plucking the small, star-shaped leaves of a medicinal herb. Sweat beaded on his brow, but he ignored it, focusing instead on avoiding the thorny vines that snaked dangerously close to the herb’s base.

This part of the forest was familiar to him, a place he had ventured into countless times. The trees here were tall and straight, their branches swaying gently in the breeze. Birds chirped overhead, and the earthy scent of moss and fresh leaves filled the air. It felt peaceful.

But even in the comfort of routine, Wei Lin’s thoughts were on the stories Grandpa Lu had told him the night before. He had ventured further along the forest pathway than usual—partially because the good herbs were few and far in between today, and partially because he couldn’t shake his sense of curiosity.

His eyes flicked toward the denser part of the forest in the distance, where the light seemed to dim unnaturally. No one from the village ever ventured that far.

A faint rustling sound carried on the breeze. Wei Lin froze, his breath caught in his throat. He crouched lower, gripping the small dagger at his waist. His heart thudded painfully as he scanned the dense foliage. Minutes passed—only the wind and the occasional rustle of leaves broke the silence. Then, nothing.

He exhaled slowly, his pulse steadying. Just a bird, or maybe a squirrel. Still, the moment left him uneasy.

Gathering his bundle of herbs, he glanced around once more before heading back toward the village. The safest paths were always the well-trodden ones, and he had no intention of testing fate today.

By the time he returned to the village, the sun was sinking below the horizon. Auntie Hua stood outside her small wooden hut, her arms crossed and her expression stern. "You’re late again," she chided, pulling him inside.

"Sorry, Auntie Hua," Wei Lin said, setting his basket on the table. "The good herbs were deeper in the forest today."

She tutted as she inspected his haul, her sharp eyes missing nothing. "You’ll get yourself killed one day, running off by yourself so deeply into the forest. Even if the herbs are harder to find, the risk isn’t worth it. What would your parents say if they were here?"

Wei Lin lowered his head. "I just want to help the village."

Auntie Hua sighed, her tone softening. "You’ve got a good heart, Wei Lin. But a dead boy can’t help anyone." She ladled steaming broth into a bowl and placed it in front of him. "Eat. You’ll need your strength if you’re going to risk your neck again tomorrow."

As Wei Lin ate, Auntie Hua sat beside him and began explaining the various herbs that would grow in the regions surrounding the village, and the forest paths that most efficiently led to them. Her voice was firm but kind, and Wei Lin listened intently, committing her advice to memory. 

When he finished the meal, he bowed deeply to her. "Thank you, Auntie Hua. I’ll be more careful.” But as he glanced out the window toward the forest’s edge, the memory of that rustling sound lingered in his mind longer than it should have.

The night sky above Tianmu was a canvas of stars, their light reflected in the tranquil surface of the village’s central pond. Wei Lin sat cross-legged by the water’s edge, his gaze distant as he watched the ripples dance across the surface. He thought about Auntie Hua’s words and his parents, their faces now little more than blurred memories.

"Lost in thought again, boy?" Grandpa Lu’s voice, warm and gravelly, broke the silence.

Wei Lin turned to see the old man approaching with his cane. He smiled. "Just thinking about how to make things better here."

Grandpa Lu chuckled and settled beside him. "You carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, Wei Lin. That’s good, but it’s heavy."

Wei Lin stared at the pond, his reflection rippling with the breeze. "Grandpa Lu, you always talk about protecting the village, but how did you do it back then? Against the bandits, I mean."

The old man’s eyes twinkled with the glimmer of a well-worn memory. "Ah, that story. You’ve heard it before, haven’t you?"

"Yes," Wei Lin said, "but I never really understood it. How could you fight off so many bandits when you didn’t even have a proper weapon?"

Grandpa Lu nodded thoughtfully, tapping his cane on the ground. “Thankfully, the bandits weren’t cold-blooded killers, Lin’er. Desperate, yes—dangerous even—but not heartless. It was a harsh winter, and they were hungry and in need of supplies. We knew they’d come sooner or later—just like they had in other nearby villages. None of the other villages could stop them, so we knew we couldn’t rely on brute strength alone. We needed to prepare.”

Wei Lin leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. "Prepare how?"

"We used what we had." Grandpa Lu’s voice grew stronger. "Fishing nets became traps. Carts were turned into barricades. We dug trenches around key paths and reinforced the weakest parts of the village. Even the children knew where to hide if things went bad."

"But what happened when they came?" Wei Lin pressed.

Grandpa Lu smiled. "They came at dawn. Quietly, at first. But we were ready. Shun led a small group to lure the main force into the northern field, where we’d dug hidden trenches. It worked—half of them fell right in. Those who didn’t got tangled in the fishing nets we’d strung between the trees."

Wei Lin’s eyes widened. "And the rest?"

"We didn’t need to fight them all," Grandpa Lu said with a chuckle. "Mei Xiang, clever as ever, snuck into their camp during the chaos and set their horses loose. By the time they realized what was happening, they were too busy chasing after their supplies to mount a proper attack. We let them go. We had no interest in hurting them—just in making sure they never returned."

Wei Lin’s expression grew serious. "And they didn’t come back?"

Grandpa Lu shook his head. "Not once. Desperation will drive a man to foolish choices, but they were smart enough to know they’d lost. Sometimes, the appearance of strength is enough. We chased them off with pots, sticks, and whatever else we could find. They moved on to easier targets after that.”

Wei Lin stared at the pond, the old man’s words settling deep in his heart. “I think I understand now. Strength isn’t just in your fists—it’s in your heart and your mind, and in the people willing to stand beside you.”

Grandpa Lu nodded. "Exactly. You remind me of Shun sometimes. Always thinking one step ahead. Just remember, strength isn’t about charging in—it’s about knowing when to act and when to hold back.”

Grandpa Lu smiled warmly. “Now, go to bed, boy. You’ll need your strength for whatever challenges tomorrow brings.”

The market square bustled with activity, merchants calling out their wares while villagers haggled over fresh produce and salted meats. Wei Lin walked among the stalls, the scent of spiced bread mingling with the earthy aroma of freshly harvested herbs in his basket. His gaze drifted across the crowd until a commotion near the herbalist’s stand caught his attention.

A boy, no older than eight, clutched a small sack of grain, his face pale with desperation as he pleaded with the merchant. "Please, sir. My mother is sick, and we need the medicine. This is all I have left after buying grain for winter."

The merchant, a stocky man with a well-worn apron, crossed his arms. His eyes glinted with calculated indifference. "Medicine doesn’t come cheap, boy. Times are hard for everyone. If you want it, you’ll need to give me both the grain and the rest of your coins."

The boy’s eyes welled with tears. "But... if I give you everything, how will we survive the winter?”

The merchant shrugged. "That’s your choice. I’m not running a charity. You’ll get the medicine, or you’ll keep your grain. Not both."

The crowd murmured, but no one moved to intervene. A few exchanged uncomfortable glances, but the unspoken rule of the market held firm—business was business.

Wei Lin’s jaw tightened as he watched the boy’s shoulders slump in defeat. His feet moved before his mind had fully caught up, and he stepped between the boy and the merchant. "That’s not a fair bargain."

The merchant’s brow furrowed. "And who are you to tell me how to run my business?"

"Someone who knows when a line’s being crossed," Wei Lin said, his voice steady despite the tightness in his chest. "You’re taking advantage of a sick woman’s need. That’s not business—it’s cruelty."

The merchant sneered. "Times are cruel, boy. Do you think I can give away my goods for free and still survive the winter? You’ve already done enough harm, trying to make me look bad in front of actual customers. Now get lost!”

Wei Lin opened his mouth to respond, but the merchant shoved him backward. He hit the ground hard, his basket spilling its contents across the ground. There were a few murmurs from a few onlookers, though most remained silent.

The boy knelt beside Wei Lin, eyes wide with worry. "I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to cause trouble..."

Wei Lin sat up, brushing dirt from his hands. His herbs lay scattered, their familiar scent rising from the ground. His gaze flicked to the boy, then to the small bundle of herbs in his hand—the very same ones Auntie Hua had taught him to gather, ones that could help with fever and cough.

He held them out to the boy. "Here. Take these. They’re not as strong as the medicine, but they’ll help your mother until you can find more."

The boy hesitated, his eyes flicking between the herbs and Wei Lin’s face. "But... these are yours. You were going to sell them."

Wei Lin smiled gently. "Some things are more important than a few coins. Go. Make sure your mother gets better."

The boy took the herbs with trembling hands. "Thank you! Thank you so much!"

The merchant muttered under his breath but said nothing more as the boy ran off. The crowd parted quietly, a few nodding in approval, though none dared confront the merchant directly.

Wei Lin gathered the rest of his herbs, his pulse still racing as he turned to leave. He cast one last glance at the merchant. "Fair business is one thing. Taking from those who have nothing is another. I hope you remember that next time."

The merchant didn’t respond, his face unreadable. But as Wei Lin walked away, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the day’s lesson had been more than just his own.

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Below is a translation of the chapter into Chinese (via ChatGPT).

以下是通过ChatGPT将本章翻译成中文。

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封天遗志

第一章：天木村

天幕苍穹，星辰灿烂，绵延无尽，似远古神祇的眼眸，洞察世间万象，映照出无数未解的奥秘。魏林端坐于陆爷爷小屋前的木阶之上，目光遥望天际，心神与星辰共舞。四周寂静，偶有微风拂过，树叶沙沙作响，虫鸣轻奏，填满了村落宁静的夜晚。

“传说星辰乃是仙人的眼睛。” 陆爷爷的声音打破了静谧，沉稳温和。老人倚在门框上，手中捧着一杯热气腾腾的茶。“他们在注视着凡尘，衡量着世人的行径。”

魏林微微转头，目光询问：“爷爷，您相信这些吗？”

陆爷爷轻笑，将茶杯放下，缓缓坐到魏林身旁的阶梯上。“信仰是一件奇妙的事，孩子。年少时，信仰如大地般真实。但随着年华流转，见识渐广，信仰也会在艰难中被磨砺。”

魏林皱眉，稚嫩的脸上写满了好奇：“那……这些故事传说，难道只是孩童们的玩乐之言？”

陆爷爷的目光变得悠远，眼中似有星光映照。“谁能说得清呢？这个世界浩瀚无边，远超你所见的山川林木。或许，这些故事中有些许真理。或许，它们是警示，是代代传承的志向与希望。重要的是，你如何看待它们。”

魏林低头凝视自己粗糙的双手，微微伸展指尖。村里的人常常谈起这些传说，并以笑声轻描淡写。然而对于他而言，那些关于强大修士与古老邪恶战斗，最终踏上仙路的故事，却仿佛是一束希望的火光，在这平凡的生活中点亮了未来的方向。

“您觉得像我这样的人，真的可以……像他们一样吗？”魏林低声问道，声音在这片寂静的夜空中回荡。

陆爷爷凝视着他，目光温和而深沉。“伟大之道，岂是朝夕可成？土壤需耕耘，种子需播撒，须浇灌、培育。你有这股精气神，但通往那条道的路，漫长且险峻。”

魏林的目光再次投向星空，眼中闪烁着一丝决心的火花：“那么，我会更加努力。即便那条路遥远，我也想去见识那个世界。我想……保护我在乎的人，就像故事里的修士那样。”

陆爷爷的声音轻柔，带着一种古老的分量：“你可知，这些传说中，不仅讲述仙人神祇，还有那些修士，凡人中的男女，他们穿越千山万水，承受无数苦难，终于获得了常人无法理解的力量。有些人说，最初的修士也不过是与我们一样的平凡人，过着简单的生活……直到他们发现了什么，一种内在的力量，或是一种召唤，一股伟大的力量改变了他们。”

魏林转向他，眼中充满了兴趣：“那股力量？是什么样的力量？”

陆爷爷的眼神微微闪烁，似乎在斟酌言辞：“世上有些地方，凡人之境与天界之间的隔阂较薄。有人说，这些地方蕴藏着力量，即便是最微不足道的修士，也有可能在其中偶然发现一丝能量，或是一件古老遗物——它们能够唤醒人的灵魂，使其变得比曾经的梦想更为强大。”

魏林微微前倾，声音几乎低不可闻：“那虚空林呢？那里是否也有这样的遗物？”

陆爷爷看了看魏林，神色依旧平静但严肃：“自小便有教诲，虚空林非单一之地。”他说道，声音沉稳中带着一丝沉思，“这片森林，绵延无尽，非所有地方都充满危险。天木村四周，土地尚且平凡。树木高大，兽群游走，空气清新，真乃福地。然而，越往深处……越是变幻莫测。”

魏林更加倾身，神情专注：“变化在哪里？”

“空气愈加沉重，步伐愈显艰难，”陆爷爷继续说道，眼中闪过一丝深邃的回忆，“树木扭曲成违背自然之形，夜间时常可见怪异光芒闪现。有传言说，曾有人听到耳边传来低语，风中仿佛飘荡着不属于人类的声音。那便是虚空林的真正起始之处……而那些遗物，亦是藏匿其中。但无人知晓，寻找它们的代价为何。”

魏林心中波澜起伏：“若这些遗物如此强大，村里的人为何没有前去寻找？”

陆爷爷长叹一声，目光投向远处标记虚空林边界的石界，那是村落的尽头。“我们比谁都清楚，莫要踏出安全之地，越过那些连接各村落的古老小道。那些小道历经岁月流转，皆是我们信任的。”他露出一丝苦笑，“我们的村子……不过是寻常百姓。可若如你所言，深入森林……那只有那些为追求力量而不惜一切的修士，方才敢踏足。”

魏林凝视着远方漆黑的天际，心中涌起一种奇异的拉扯，一股不知名的好奇心，令他对虚空林的深处充满了无限的向往——一个既充满危险又蕴藏机遇之地。那片辽阔的树海，延绵至远方，星光下，树影若隐若现。

“您觉得……有朝一日，会有人敢去吗？”魏林低声问道，声音虽柔，却掩不住其中的兴奋。

陆爷爷的眼神渐柔，但语气依旧沉稳：“或许吧。世界之大，志向之人从不缺少，林儿。那些修士追寻的力量，未曾消散——它依旧存在，静待有缘人。只不过，追寻之路要小心，力量的代价，往往是无法预见的。”

魏林的神色变得凝重：“我会记住的，爷爷。”

陆爷爷拍了拍他的背，手掌温暖而有力：“好了，去睡觉吧。明日田地可不等人。”

魏林点头，心头却远未平静，那片安静的小村落，已无法容纳他的思绪。站起身时，最后一次仰望星空，星辰似乎比之前更加明亮，仿佛它们也在等待，注视着他的未来。

傍晚的阳光穿过茂密的林冠，洒下斑驳的影子，投射在湿润的林地上。魏林蹲伏在一棵古老树根间，双手灵巧地摘取着一株药草的小星状叶片。汗水顺着额头滑落，但他并未在意，反而专注于避开那些如毒蛇般缠绕的荆棘藤蔓，生怕打扰了这株珍贵草药的根基。

此处的森林他早已熟悉无比，曾多次踏足。这里的树木高大挺拔，枝条在微风中轻轻摇曳，鸟儿在枝头欢鸣，空气中弥漫着青苔与新叶的泥土气息，一切都显得宁静安详。

然而，即便在这份平凡的安宁中，魏林的心神依然难以放松，昨夜陆爷爷所讲的那些故事萦绕在心头。他今日踏足林间小道，走得比平日更远些——部分原因是因为今日良药稀少，部分原因则是他无法驱散那股挥之不去的好奇心。

魏林的目光不自觉地移向远处那片更为浓密的树林，那里似乎有一股不自然的阴影，遮蔽了天光。村中的人，从未有人敢深入到那片未知的黑暗之地。

忽然，微弱的沙沙声随风飘来，魏林猛地停住，胸口仿佛被某种力量紧紧扼住。他低下身形，紧握腰间的小匕首，心脏急剧跳动，目光四下扫视，穿过那密密麻麻的草丛。片刻的寂静，只有风声与偶尔飘动的树叶破坏了这片静谧。时间一分一秒地流逝，然而什么也没有出现。

他缓缓松了口气，脉搏渐渐平稳。只是风声，或许是一只鸟，甚至可能是只松鼠罢了。但那一瞬间的紧张，依旧让他心中不安。

魏林将药草束起，四下望了望，方才起身，踏上归程。最为安全的道路，永远是那些人迹常至的路径，而他今日并无兴趣与命运作赌注。

当他归村时，夕阳已悄然沉落，天际染上了一层橙红色的余晖。花姨站在她那间简陋木屋前，双臂交叉，神色严肃。 "你又迟了，" 她斥道，将魏林拉进屋内。

"对不起，花姨，" 魏林低头道，将篮子轻轻放到桌上。 "今天的好药草都在林深处。"

花姨轻声叹息，眼神如鹰隼般锐利，仔细检查着他所采摘的草药。 "你这孩子，什么时候才能长点心？这么深进森林，日后难保会出事。药草虽难寻，但冒这个险值不值得？如果你父母还在世，看到你这样，他们该作何感想？"

魏林低下头，声音微弱。 "我只是想帮村子忙。"

花姨叹息一声，语气稍微柔和。 "你心地善良，魏林。但一个死去的孩子，谁也帮不了。" 她盛了一碗热汤，放到他面前。 "吃吧，明天若还要冒险，体力是必需的。"

魏林吃着汤，花姨则坐在一旁，开始讲解村周围常见的药草，以及哪些林道最能通向这些药草。她的声音坚韧而温柔，魏林专心听着，将她的教诲牢牢记在心中。

当他吃完饭后，深深作揖致谢。 "谢谢花姨，我一定会小心些。" 然而，当他从窗户望向那片森林的边缘时，耳畔依旧回响着那阵沙沙声，心头的疑虑挥之不去，久久难以散去。

天木村的夜空如一幅浩瀚的画卷，群星点缀其上，映照在村中静谧的池塘之中，波光粼粼，宛若碎金洒落水面。魏林盘腿坐在池边，静静凝视着水波的荡漾，心思却早已飘远。花姨的话仍在耳畔回响。

"又陷入沉思了，小子？"
一声温和而低哑的嗓音打破夜晚的寂静。

魏林回头，见陆爷爷拄着拐杖缓步而来，嘴角微微一扬，道："只是想着，如何让村子变得更好。"

陆爷爷轻笑，缓缓在他身旁坐下："你总是把整个村子的重担背在肩上，魏林。这是好事，但也沉重。"

魏林望着池水，微风拂过，水面微微荡漾，他的倒影在波纹中晃动不定。"陆爷爷，您总说要保护村子……可当年您是怎么做到的？尤其是对抗那群匪徒的时候？"

陆爷爷目光微微一亮，似乎勾起了某段被岁月磨砺的记忆。"啊，那件事啊……你应该听过很多次了吧？"

"听过，" 魏林点头，"但我一直不明白。您当时甚至连一件像样的武器都没有，怎么可能挡住那么多的贼匪？"

陆爷爷轻轻敲了敲地面，沉吟片刻，缓缓开口："幸好，那群贼匪并非冷血之徒。虽是亡命之人，但未至于穷凶极恶。他们只是饥寒交迫，急需粮草过冬。我们早已料到他们会来，就如他们曾洗劫过的那些村落一样。既然硬碰硬无法取胜，我们便只能另寻他法。"

魏林微微前倾，眼中透着好奇："您们是如何准备的？"

陆爷爷的声音带上几分回忆的力量："因陋就简，见招拆招。渔网成了陷阱，牛车化作壁垒，我们在要道设壕沟，在村中薄弱之处加固防御。甚至连孩童们都知道，一旦事有不对，该如何藏身。"

"可当他们真的来了呢？" 魏林追问。

陆爷爷笑了笑："他们于黎明时分而至，悄然无声。但我们早已布好局。顺带领一小队人马，故意引他们主力至北边的田地。那里，我们早已掘好陷坑，待他们踏入，半数人立刻跌入坑中。那些未落陷阱的，亦被我们预先布下的渔网所缠，难以行动。"

魏林眼睛一亮，急切地问道："那剩下的贼匪呢？"

陆爷爷眯眼一笑："无需与他们死战。梅香机敏非常，趁乱潜入匪寨，解开他们的马匹，将其驱散入林。待他们察觉时，已然自顾不暇，连营中粮草也一并丢失。我们并无意伤人，只要让他们知难而退，便已足够。"

魏林神色渐凝，沉声问道："他们……后来没有再回来？"

陆爷爷摇了摇头："一次也没有。困境会逼迫人走上歧途，但聪明人都明白，若已失败，再折返无异于自寻死路。强弱之势未必取决于武力，单凭竹竿、铁锅与石块，我们便让他们知难而退。他们后来转而劫掠别处，而我们，终究守住了村子。"

魏林望着池塘，陆爷爷的话在心底泛起层层涟漪。他缓缓道："我想我明白了……强大，不仅仅在于拳脚，更在于心智，更在于愿意与你并肩而战之人。"

陆爷爷满意地点了点头："正是如此。你让我想起了顺，总是习惯多想一步。可记住，力量并非盲目冲锋，而是知何时出手，何时隐忍。"

他拍了拍魏林的肩膀，目光温和："好了，去睡吧，孩子。明日如何，尚未可知，你得养足精神，应对未来的一切挑战。"

市场广场热闹非凡，商贩们高声叫卖，村民们在新鲜的蔬菜和腌制的肉类前讨价还价。魏林在人群中缓步行走，香气四溢的香料面包味与篮中新采摘草药的土香交织在一起。他的目光穿过熙攘的人群，直到一阵喧哗声吸引了他的注意。

一名约八岁的男孩，手中紧紧抓着一小袋粮食，脸色苍白，眼中写满了绝望，他向药商乞求：“求您了，先生。我母亲生病了，我们需要药材。这是我为冬天买粮后，剩下的最后一点。”

药商是一位结实的中年男子，身上穿着布满油渍的围裙，双臂抱胸，眼中闪烁着冷酷的精明：“药材可不便宜，小子。如今日子艰难，谁都不容易。如果你要药，那就把粮食和剩下的钱一并给我。”

男孩的眼眶红了，泪水在眼中打转：“可…如果我把所有都给了您，我们怎么熬过冬天？”

药商冷漠地耸了耸肩：“这是你的选择。我不是做慈善的，要么给我粮食，要么给我钱，二者不可得兼。”

周围的人群窃窃私语，然而没有一个人上前干预。几人交换了不安的目光，但市场的潜规则早已根深蒂固——生意就是生意。

魏林的下巴紧绷，注视着男孩肩膀的无力下垂，心中愈加沉重。脚步已先于思绪行动，他走上前，站在男孩与药商之间：“这不是公平的交易。”

药商眉头一皱：“你算什么东西，竟敢教我做生意？”

魏林的声音如常稳重，尽管胸口依然紧绷：“我只是知道何为越界。你正在利用一位病母之人的苦境，这不是做生意，这是残忍。”

药商冷笑一声：“世道如此，少年轻狂，你以为我能白白送货还能过冬吗？你已经够了，想让我在顾客面前颜面尽失，现在，滚开！”

魏林正欲回话，却被药商一推，重重摔倒在地，篮中的草药洒落一地。人群中响起几声低语，但大多数人依然保持沉默。

男孩急忙跪在魏林身旁，眼中充满忧虑：“对不起！我不是故意惹事的……”

魏林坐起身，拍了拍沾满尘土的手掌，眼中没有愤怒，反而是平静。他低头望着散落一地的草药，那熟悉的香气缭绕升起，随即目光定格在男孩手中的小小药束上——正是花姨教他采集的草药，可以缓解发热与咳嗽。

魏林将草药递到男孩面前：“拿着这些吧，虽不如药材强效，但能帮你母亲，直到你能找到更好的。”

男孩犹豫了一下，眼神在草药与魏林的脸间游移：“但…这些是您的。您本来是打算卖掉的。”

魏林微微一笑，眼中带着温和：“有些东西，比起几枚铜钱更为重要。去吧，确保你母亲早日康复。”

男孩颤抖着双手接过草药，激动得说不出话：“谢谢您！谢谢您！”

药商低声咕哝几句，却再无言语，男孩飞快地跑开。周围的群众悄然分开，几人微微点头，表示认可，然而没有一个人敢直面药商。

魏林拾起散落的草药，手指紧紧捏住那些仍然新鲜的草叶，心跳依然如鼓，脚步未曾停顿。当他转身离开时，最后一眼投向了那位药商：“公平的生意是一回事，抢夺那些无助者的东西又是另一回事。希望下次你能记住这一点。”

药商面无表情，不发一言，魏林的脚步渐远，他却感到，今日的教训，或许不仅仅是自己的。