Chapter 8: The Light That Once Shone on the Clouds
This novel is translated and hosted on BCatranslation
In these times, a heavy darkness covered the entire world. To see a creature that glowed was rare enough that most people learned to hide from it. Such glowing beings were often signs of great danger—monsters beyond normal understanding. Everyone knew to keep their distance.
In the wild lands stretching in all directions, no one could guess how many fearsome beasts lay waiting, ready to pounce at the first chance. Any creature bold enough to shine out here, where every shadow might hold a predator, had to be unimaginably strong.
Qin Ming lowered himself carefully from a tall tree, slipping into the thick underbrush below. His heart thumped heavily in his chest, making it hard to stay calm. This wasn’t some ordinary glow-in-the-dark bug. It lit up the entire night sky above him.
In an age without sun, moon, or stars, the sight was nothing short of a miracle.
“A Moon Bug,” he breathed, hardly believing it. He’d heard about them before, from the old folks in the village who told stories of ancient times. They claimed that once there were both a sun and a moon in the sky. “If you ever see a Moon Bug,” the elders used to say, “you’ll know what the old moon looked like.” It was said to shine just as gracefully, a tiny echo of lost days.
If a Moon Bug truly appeared, it would be the only radiant thing in the entire sky. As it first drifted upward, its glow had been soft, almost gentle. Qin Ming thought he could just barely make out the shape of an insect’s body. But as it rose higher, its light grew brighter and brighter, until it became a dazzling, halo-like disc. It was so bright that its insect shape vanished into the glow, like a legend coming to life.
Elders told how most bright insects never lasted through the harsh winters. Yet, for fifty long years, this Moon Bug had returned to these mountains, though seldom glimpsed by human eyes. It was one of the fabled “named insects” that had survived for decades, living as long as the ancient beasts and even rivaling the Mountain Lords in strength.
Qin Ming’s mind wandered. Was this what the moon had looked like back in those ancient ages? Its light was gentle, painting the dark forest with silvery shades. The ridges turned pale and dreamy under its glow. For once, the blackness was softened, and Qin Ming could almost imagine a different world—one where daylight and moonlight reigned in turn.
Of course, he knew the truth. This bug’s glow barely brightened a couple of nearby hills. The real moon, if the elders’ tales were true, would have lit the world from immeasurable heights, bathing entire lands in silvery splendor.
For a long moment, everything was silent. No snarls, no growls. The Wild Boar King and whatever mysterious beast had chased it were keeping still, lurking in the silence. Even the ordinary creatures dared not make a sound under that strange, holy light.
Then, like a sudden gust of wind, a bright streak of light darted across the sky—the Moon Bug took flight, vanishing as quickly as it had come. Its radiance faded, and the land fell back into its old, quiet darkness.
Qin Ming felt oddly empty, as if something precious had slipped away. But within that emptiness, he found a new resolve. When would he grow strong and free enough to move through this world without fear, like the Moon Bug soaring through the night?
He pushed the thought aside. The beasts, still uneasy, were not yet brave enough to show themselves. It was a rare break. Qin Ming grabbed his two kills—a Blade-Horned Deer and a Donkey-Headed Wolf—and slipped over the low hill, hurrying back home.
Somewhere deep in the mountains, a sudden cry rang out, then fell silent. Something fierce had met its end near where the Moon Bug had flown. After that, the whole forest hushed, and not even the strangest, rarest birds dared to cry out.
At last, Twin Trees Village came into sight. Qin Ming trudged forward, dragging his prey behind him. He paused at the village gate and glanced over his shoulder. Beyond lay a vast sea of darkness, silent and secretive.
The memory of that glowing scene still hovered in his mind. He felt dazed, wondering what the ancient moon might have looked like shining over white, drifting clouds. His stomach soon reminded him that he was hungry, though, and he couldn’t help smiling wryly. Dreaming about the ancient past wouldn’t fill his belly. It was time to eat.
A few children were playing near the village entrance, ignoring the cold. Their small faces were flushed red, and they chased each other around with quiet giggles.
“Hey, guys, guess what?” Qin Ming called, trying for a casual, teenage tone. “I actually went hunting alone and brought down a Blade-Horned Deer!” He grinned, half showing off, half pleased with himself.
A thin boy blinked in disbelief. “No way, Qin! You took down a Blade-Horned Deer by yourself?”
The children’s eyes grew huge when they saw the Donkey-Headed Wolf lying beside the deer. They stared at the carcasses, their mouths watering, longing for a taste of fresh meat.
Qin Ming shrugged, trying to sound confident and a bit playful. “Come by my place later,” he said. “I’ll let you have a chunk. Promise.”
That was all they needed to hear. They glanced excitedly at each other. He moved quickly, pulling the heavy carcasses behind him and heading home, eager to taste what he’d worked so hard to get.
Back in his courtyard, Qin Ming heated up water and called over Lu Ze and Liang Wan Qing to help prepare the feast. At once, the smell of cooking meat filled the air. He cleaned the meat and soon had large chunks simmering in a pot. Outside, a leg of deer roasted over an open flame, fat sizzling and dripping into the fire. Every breath of air tasted delicious.
Liang Wan Qing noticed the blood on Qin Ming’s shoulder. “Qin, you’re hurt,” she said, concerned.
He tried to sound tough. “It’s no big deal, just a scratch,” he answered, forcing a grin. Lu Ze checked the wound and nodded, relieved it wasn’t serious.
Soon the courtyard smelled like a grand feast. Qin Ming couldn’t wait another second. He sliced a thin piece off the roasting deer leg, popped it straight into his mouth, ignoring the heat. “It’s so good!” he said around his mouthful. “Wen Rui, isn’t this what you’ve been wanting for ages?”
Wen Rui took a bite and her face lit up with delight. “Mmm! It’s amazing!” she said, nodding quickly, her cheeks stuffed with meat. “You’re the best, Qin!”
They called Lu Ze and Liang Wan Qing over to eat. Meanwhile, Qin Ming kept carving up the meat, his hunger stronger than ever. Little Wen Hui, only two years old, tried hard to chew the roasted leg but struggled, so they mashed some softer meat for her. She pouted adorably, which made everyone laugh.
Qin Ming felt the nourishment flooding his body. He had been on the brink of Awakening, and now it seemed that every bite fed that mysterious change. His whole body felt alive, his senses sharpening with each mouthful.
Outside the courtyard, a few children gathered, peeking in from behind the doorframe. They smelled the meat and gazed at the steaming pot, eyes bright and hopeful.
Qin Ming waved them in. “Hey, come on, don’t be shy,” he said, lifting his chin in a friendly way. “I told you I’d share, didn’t I? Grab a bowl and dig in!”
“Thanks, Qin! You’re awesome!” The children rushed forward, stuffing their faces happily, cheeks bulging like hamsters. Liang Wan Qing hovered over them, urging them to slow down and take small bites.
With every mouthful, Qin Ming felt stronger. It was as if water had been poured into dry soil, and now fresh buds of power were pushing through. He could sense his body changing—his bones creaked quietly, his blood felt warm and bright, and his mind felt oddly awake and glowing.
By now, Lu Ze and Liang Wan Qing had put down their bowls, full and satisfied. But Qin Ming kept eating, as if he could never get enough. Sweat ran down his forehead, and steam rose from his skin. The others watched, astonished.
“He’s… changing,” Lu Ze murmured. Qin Ming’s Awakening seemed to be taking a huge leap forward. It was happening much faster than anyone expected.
The younger kids had eaten their fill. They smiled sheepishly, wiping their greasy faces. Qin Ming gave them a friendly wave. “Off you go, then,” he said. “Go have some fun. Just don’t trip over your full bellies.”
Not long after, word spread that Qin Ming had returned with a Blade-Horned Deer and a Donkey-Headed Wolf. Neighbors gathered at the courtyard gate, amazed. The forest was terrifying these days. Few dared go deep into the mountains. Yet Qin Ming—a boy of barely sixteen—had managed to return with such rare prey. It wasn’t just luck; it had to mean he was special.
“Is he having a Golden Age Awakening?” an older villager wondered, marveling at the boy’s feat.
Some parents came with their children, who stared longingly at the food. It was a lean season, and the scent of roasted meat made everyone’s stomachs rumble. Qin Ming couldn’t stand to see hungry kids. He waved them in, calling out, “Go on, have some! Don’t just stand there looking all shy.”
The children glanced at their parents, hesitating. The adults began to refuse politely, but Qin Ming cut them off: “You can all take five pounds of meat home,” he said firmly. “No arguments. We have enough for everyone.”
“Such a generous young man,” one of the uncles said, smiling. “He’s nearly old enough to settle down. Maybe we should find him a nice girl?”
Qin Ming blushed, waving his hands quickly. “Come on, don’t start that,” he said, sounding like any embarrassed teen. The courtyard filled with warm laughter, and the children ate with shining eyes and greasy smiles.
Later, Yang Yong Qing appeared. “Qin, tell me straight,” he said, stroking his beard. “Have you Awakened?”
Qin Ming shrugged, trying to sound cool. “Maybe I have,” he said with a half-smile. “You told me some important lady might show up one day, right? Thought I’d better shape up. Running into danger out there made something spark inside me. Guess I Awakened. No big deal.”
Yang Yong Qing chuckled, pointing at Qin Ming. “You’ve got a way with words, boy.” But everyone knew Qin Ming’s strength was his own doing, the result of his hard work and courage.
“Awakening during the Golden Age,” breathed Old Man Liu. “We haven’t seen that happen in decades!”
Excitement spread through the crowd. A Golden Age Awakening meant Qin Ming stood out even among the wider world, giving him a future that might shine brighter than anyone dared hope.
Qin Ming’s body felt like a furnace. The cold night air bit into his skin, but he was drenched in sweat, steam curling around him. He was undergoing a true transformation, like a seed bursting into life after a long winter.
Yang Yong Qing watched intently, amazed. Qin Ming’s changes were more dramatic than he’d expected. It was as if the boy’s blood glowed, purifying itself as he grew stronger. A sticky film of old sweat and dirt covered Qin Ming’s skin, but beneath it, fresh power surged.
Qin Ming felt himself getting sleepy. He stretched and yawned. His belly was full and warm, and he felt as if his body demanded rest, like a bear settling into hibernation. “Lu Ze,” he said, voice heavy with sleep, “help share out the rest of the meat. And don’t forget to give extra to Grandma Zhou’s family. Today’s her funeral.”
He poured cold water over himself, rinsing away grime and sweat, then stumbled indoors. He collapsed onto his heated bed, eyes closing before anyone could say another word.
Outside, everyone whispered in amazement. Yang Yong Qing stroked his beard thoughtfully. He’d seen a lot in his time, but Qin Ming’s Awakening was far from over. There was no telling how far it would go.
Of course, no one expected Qin Ming’s rise to match the famous youths from that distant bright city—heroes whose names stirred awe. Still, here in Twin Trees Village, under a dark and starless sky, Qin Ming’s transformation shone like a spark of hope, lighting the darkness that had swallowed the world long ago.