I gain ten years' worth of cultivation every day, and even geniuses will only see my doorstep!

Behind the Xuan Yuan Sect, the old plum tree's branches were already covered with leaves. Not flowers, but leaves. Tender green with a touch of red at the edges, they trembled gently in the wind. Qin Yuan sat on a blue stone, holding neither a teacup nor a sword, nothing at all. He simply sat there.

Seven men arrived at the stream. They emerged from the mist, their footsteps light, yet the sound of their footsteps on the pebbles was clear. Seven men, seven different kinds of clothing. Some wore robes, some animal skins, some cloth, and some armor. But they all wore the same badge on their chests—a white bird with outstretched wings, a broken chain held in its beak. The emblem of the Free League.

The leader was a young woman. She had short, ear-length hair, a narrow face, a pointed chin, and small but bright eyes. She wore a gray short-sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, revealing an old scar on her forearm. She walked to a stop three steps away from Qin Yuan and stopped. There was no greeting, no small talk.

"Qin Yuan, you restored the myriad realms, and we thank you. But did you consult us before setting the rules you established?"

Qin Yuan didn't stand up. He looked up at her face, his gaze calm. "What rules?"

"Time, cause and effect, fate. You've fixed them all. We can't even change the sunrise and sunset in our own world." Her voice wasn't loud, but she enunciated each word clearly.

Qin Yuan said, "Changing the timeline will cause it to fork. You can't afford the consequences."

That's our world. Our world, we'll take responsibility for it ourselves.

Lin Qing'er came out of the house, carrying two bowls of tea. She placed one bowl beside Qin Yuan and handed the other to Li Qing. Li Qing did not take it. Her hands hung at her sides, and her gaze remained fixed on Qin Yuan.

Lin Qing'er didn't insist. She placed the teacup on the bluestone, turned around, and walked back into the house. Her footsteps were very light, and the wooden door closed very quietly.

Li Qing said, "We have 380 worlds. Not too big, but not too few either. We don't ask you to abolish all the rules. We only ask—let us govern ourselves."

"What happens when the strong bully the weak when there are no rules?"

"That's their freedom."

Qin Yuan remained silent for a long time. He picked up the teacup and took a sip; the tea had gone cold. He didn't refill the cup but placed it back on the bluestone.

"I will go and see your freedom."

Qin Yuan followed the representatives of the Free Alliance through countless worlds. The first world was called the Crimson Sand Realm. The sky was yellowish-brown, as if covered by a layer of fine sand. When the sun rose from the east, the light was not golden, but dark red, like congealed blood.

Red Sands is famous for its minerals. The veins extend from underground to the surface, like the exposed spine of a giant beast. Mine entrances are everywhere, some wide, some narrow, some open, and some collapsed.

Li Qing walked ahead, his steps quick. "The ruler of the Crimson Sand Realm is called Old Monster Rock, a Mahayana stage cultivator. He owns four hundred mines and twelve thousand miners. The miners work sixteen hours a day, earning three low-grade spirit stones as payment. If they get sick, there's no medicine; if they're injured, they have to bear it themselves. Nobody cares."

Qin Yuan followed her into a mine shaft. The entrance was narrow, allowing only one person to pass at a time. The walls were inlaid with luminous crystals, and the light was dim, like dusk. The air smelled of sulfur, as well as sweat, blood, and urine.

The miners stood in a line, each carrying a basket of ore on their shoulder. The baskets were woven from bamboo, and the ore was black and shiny. They kept their heads down, silent, and didn't look at anyone beside them. Qin Yuan reached out and stopped one of the miners; the man's shoulders were very stiff, like iron.

Why don't you leave?

The miner looked up. His eyes were cloudy, and his eyelashes were covered in mine dust. His lips moved, but no sound came out.

Qin Yuan released his grip. The miner was gone. His footsteps mingled with the footsteps of others, making it impossible to distinguish one from another.

Deep in the mine, a man lay by the side of the tunnel, his back against the wall. One of his legs was broken below the knee, and a piece of cloth, its color indistinguishable, was wrapped around the cut, soaked in blood and blackened. The old man's face was ashen, his lips white, and his eyes sunken.

When he saw Qin Yuan, his cloudy eyes lit up. It wasn't light, but a kind of warmth, like a dying ember being stirred by the wind.

"You are the Guardian of All Realms? You've arrived."

Qin Yuan squatted down. His hand rested on the old man's broken leg. The bone was shattered into several pieces, some fragments protruding through the skin. There was no infection, because the wound was so fresh, probably from yesterday or the day before. But his body was too old, so old that its healing ability was almost zero.

Qin Yuan didn't speak. He carefully put the broken bones back together, piece by piece, with his hands. The bones creaked and cracked in his palms. The old man bit his lip until it bled, and blood dripped from his chin onto the back of Qin Yuan's hand. Qin Yuan didn't wipe it away.

After setting the bone, he took out a handful of pills from his pocket. Not a bottle, but a handful. He crushed the pills, applied them to the wound, and pressed them in with his hand. The powder, soaked in blood, turned into a black paste. The old man's brow slowly relaxed.

He grabbed a handful from Qin Yuan's hand. His nails dug into Qin Yuan's skin, but Qin Yuan didn't flinch.

"Didn't you say someone would take care of it? Where is that person?"

Qin Yuan didn't answer. After bandaging his wound, he stood up. His legs were numb from squatting, and it took him three breaths to regain his balance.

Back on the ground, the sunlight was a blinding, dark red. Li Qing stood at the cave entrance, his shadow stretched long, all the way to the slag heap.

"Is this your freedom?"

Li Qing said, "It's not perfect. But it's better than being managed by someone else."

Qin Yuan didn't refute. He turned and left the Crimson Sand Realm. After walking a few steps, he stopped and took out all the healing pills from his robes—more than a dozen bottles, the bottles made of cool jade. He placed the pills on a rock at the cave entrance. It wasn't enough to share, but he didn't have any more.

Upon returning to Xuan Yuan Sect, Qin Yuan sat under the old plum tree for three days.

On the first day, he watched the stream flow from left to right. On the second day, he watched the stream flow from right to left. It wasn't that the direction of flow had changed, but rather that he was sitting in a different direction. On the third day, the stream stopped flowing. It wasn't that it had frozen over, but rather that his eyes could no longer see it.

Lin Qing'er placed the porridge beside him every morning and took it away when it cooled down in the evening. The porridge was freshly cooked every day, made with red dates and glutinous rice, just like the porridge he had forgotten to drink. He never took a single sip.

On the fourth day, Lin Qing'er sat next to him. There was only enough room for two people on the bluestone, so she sat very close, her shoulder touching his.

"What are you thinking about?"

"I'm wondering, what gives me the right to make decisions for others?"

Do you want to make decisions for other people?

Qin Yuan shook his head. "I don't want to. But I can't just ignore it."

"Because you are the strongest. It's not the logic of power that the strong make decisions for the weak. It's because the weak are incapable of making their own decisions."

Qin Yuan remained silent for a long time. The leaves of the old plum tree rustled in the wind, making a soft, turning sound like turning pages of a book.

"The progenitor of chaos said that living beings were too noisy. Now I think he was right."