HNYWEF -Chapter 194 Human Clarity (Awakening in the Human World)

After eating and drinking his fill.

Zhou Xiong spat the last duck bone onto the table, rinsed his mouth with a teacup, and spat it into the spittoon beside him.

The sun was still high—bright white, so intense it made the rooftops across the street glint.

He sat for a moment, then downed the remaining cold tea in one gulp, stood up, and walked to the counter.

The shopkeeper was bent over an abacus. When he looked up and saw Zhou Xiong, he immediately put on that polite smile.

“Finished eating, sir?”

Zhou Xiong didn’t respond and pushed the door open to leave.

The shopkeeper glanced after him and cupped his hands in farewell. “Safe travels, sir. Please come again.”

The sun was vicious. It baked the blue stone pavement until it felt hot underfoot, heat seeping straight into his soles.

Zhou Xiong stood at the entrance of the tavern, scanning his surroundings. Then he raised his head and looked west.

West was mountains.

Not distant, hazy silhouettes—but real mountains, pressing right up against the horizon.

They weren’t tall individually, but they stretched endlessly, layer upon layer, extending westward with no end in sight. The white sun lit their outlines clearly, harsh and unforgiving.

As he stared at them, that nameless fire inside him flared up again.

Mountains—again.

He had left the capital of Chang’an, crossed mountains from the Wagang stronghold, gone from Hanzhong into more mountains, then from there to the pass of Jianmen Pass.

All for that deep-blue figure.

And now he still had to go west. Still had to climb more mountains.

Standing there, he cursed that silhouette in his heart an unknown number of times.

Then he cursed himself too.

These past few days, he felt like he had climbed more mountains than during his military days.

Back in the army, climbing mountains was training—there was a finish line, comrades beside him, and hot water and food waiting afterward.

Now, climbing mountains meant doing it alone. No endpoint. No comrades. And after each mountain—nothing, only another mountain waiting ahead.

But he still had to go.

His son was still waiting for him in Chang’an. The promise he made hadn’t been fulfilled.

The matters here had to be resolved now.

He didn’t know why he was so certain it had to be now, but he knew that if he didn’t go, he would regret it for the rest of his life.

Zhou Xiong took a deep breath and stepped forward, heading west.

After only a few steps, he stopped.

Under a locust tree by the roadside stood a person.

A woman, dressed in plain clothing, wearing a veiled hat. A thin veil hung down, covering her face.

She stood in the shade, as if waiting for someone—or simply avoiding the sun.

Her body leaned slightly to the left, her left foot a little ahead of the right, as if she might step forward at any moment, yet never did.

Zhou Xiong stared at her. His feet felt nailed to the ground.

That posture—he knew it too well.

She always stood like that. Left foot forward, right foot back, body slightly tilted left, as if listening to something… or waiting for something.

He had once teased her about it: “Why do you stand like you’re about to run?” She had only smiled and never changed.

The woman under the tree lifted her veil slightly in the wind, revealing half her face.

Zhou Xiong’s mouth opened.

That profile—the familiar curve of her nose, the familiar line of her jaw—but no sound came out.

He wanted to call out, but his throat felt blocked. He wanted to walk over, but his legs wouldn’t move.

So he just stood there, staring.

The woman seemed to sense something and turned her head, glancing in his direction.

The veil fell again, covering her face, leaving only a faint glimpse of her eyes. Those eyes looked at him for a brief instant—then withdrew.

She turned around and walked away down the street.

Her steps were light, her left foot always a fraction slower than the right, her body still slightly tilted left.

Zhou Xiong didn’t move.

His hands hung at his sides. He wanted to chase after her, to see that face, to call out a name.

But reason held him back.

He knew—it wasn’t her.

She couldn’t possibly be standing on the streets of Yizhou (Chengdu), nor could she look at him with that unfamiliar gaze and simply walk away.

He knew all of that.

And yet he still stood there, watching that figure disappear into the distance.

The silhouette wavered through the crowd—blocked by a porter carrying a pole, reappearing, then vanishing again.

Finally, it turned into a side alley and was gone.

People still moved through the street. Porters, carts, children being led by hand. Cicadas still screamed without end.

Zhou Xiong stood there, staring into that alley for a long time.

Then he lowered his head and looked at his own toes. Dust clung to his boots from the tavern floor.

He stood like that for a while.

Then he raised his head and looked west again.

The mountains were still there.

He withdrew his gaze and started walking again. Slower than before—but every step was firm, grounded.

When he passed under the locust tree, the shade was empty. Nothing remained.

When he reached the alley entrance, he glanced inside.

It was deep and dark, nothing visible at all.

He looked away, shook his head, and kept walking.

“Damn it… I’m still expecting something like that…”

He cursed himself in his heart.

The sky was still bright. The sun had not yet begun to set.

His shadow lay short beneath his feet—too small even to step on.

Step by step, he walked westward. His shadow followed him, clinging to his feet like something being dragged along.