Li Ming finally had a break. No tournaments, no exams, no crazy sect rules—just a few days off. Most disciples would stay behind to meditate, polish their swords, or sit under waterfalls looking serious.
He packed a small bag and started down the road. "Forget waterfalls. I’m going home. I need food, my own bed, and maybe... just maybe... a world where chickens don’t try to kill me."
The dirt path leading to his village hadn’t changed. The same crooked trees leaned across the road. The same old well sat at the entrance. For the first time in months, he relaxed.
At least until he stepped into the village.
"Look!" someone shouted. "It’s Li Ming, the chicken slayer!"
The whole village turned. Doors swung open. People poured out to see him.
"That’s the boy who split a mountain with his bare hands!" cried one villager.
"They say he can crush stones just by sneezing!" gasped another. Find the newest release on Nove1Fire.net
Li Ming’s eye twitched. It wasn’t a mountain. It wasn’t my hands. I tripped on a chicken feather and cracked a rock. Why does this keep growing?!
Before he could defend himself, the crowd surrounded him. Children tugged at his robe. Old women tossed flower petals in the air. A farmer shoved a pig toward him.
"Master Li, please bless my pig! Make it strong like you!"
Li Ming froze, staring at the pig. The pig stared back. The pig snorted.
"...Blessed," Li Ming said finally, patting the pig’s head.
The farmer burst into tears. "Thank you, mighty one!"
Li Ming sighed. This is how rumors start. Tomorrow people will say I made a pig fly.
Then he heard the voice that froze him.
His mother rushed forward, apron still tied around her waist. She grabbed him in a hug so strong he thought his ribs cracked.
"You’re so thin!" she scolded. "Did the sect starve you? Look at your arms, still like noodles!"
"Mother—can’t breathe—" Li Ming wheezed.
She ignored him. "Don’t worry. Tonight I’ll cook thirty buns for you!"
His father came next, still carrying a hoe. He slapped Li Ming’s shoulder so hard his knees buckled.
"Good to see you, son! Everyone’s talking about you. They say you fought a chicken so fiercely, the heavens split open!"
Li Ming groaned. "I lost to the chicken. I tripped—"
"Such modesty!" his father interrupted proudly. "A true hero never brags."
Before Li Ming could argue, something small and fast hit his leg.
"Big Brother!" a little voice shouted.
It was his sister, Li Mei, charging at him with a wooden stick. She swung at his shin with all her strength.
"Duel me! I’m already at Body Tempering stage two!"
Li Ming winced, rubbing his leg. "You’re eight years old."
"Age doesn’t matter! Fight me!" she declared, brandishing her stick.
The villagers clapped and quickly formed a circle.
"I bet on the little sister!" one man shouted.
"Don’t be silly! Li Ming split a mountain. He’ll win for sure!" another replied.
Li Ming muttered under his breath. "It was a rock..."
"BEGIN!" his father shouted suddenly, acting like a referee.
Li Mei charged at him, swinging wildly. Li Ming stepped aside, tapped her on the head with his finger, and said calmly, "I win."
But Li Mei wasn’t finished. She dropped her stick, grabbed his leg, and bit down.
"OW! OW! Let go, you little demon!" Li Ming shouted, hopping around while she clung to him like an angry puppy.
The villagers laughed so hard some nearly fell over. His mother sighed.
"Just like his father. Always bullied by women."
His father coughed. "Wife, must you say that in front of everyone?"
Li Ming finally managed to pry Li Mei off. She crossed her arms, pouting.
"I demand a rematch!"
"You lost," Li Ming said firmly. "Now you have to polish my sword for a week."
"Fine," she said. "But I’ll spit on it every day too."
"Mother! She’s threatening my weapon!"
His mother ignored them both and dragged Li Ming toward the house. "Enough fighting. Come inside. You must be starving."
The villagers cheered like they’d just seen history’s greatest duel. One shouted, "This battle will be remembered for generations!"
Li Ming groaned. If history remembers that my eight-year-old sister bit me, I’ll never leave the house again.
As they entered, his mother shoved him into a chair. Bowls, plates, and steaming buns appeared in front of him faster than he could blink.
"Eat! Eat until you’re strong enough to defeat ten chickens at once!" she ordered.
Li Ming buried his face in his hands. "Mother, please don’t say that out loud..."
But when he opened his eyes, he saw the food. He hesitated for half a second, then grabbed a bun and stuffed it into his mouth. His sister tried to swipe one from his plate, but he smacked her hand away.
"My buns!" he declared with a full mouth.
The family laughed, and the villagers outside whispered tales that would only grow wilder by tomorrow.
And so began Li Ming’s return home—full of food, chaos, and the looming fear that someone, somewhere, was still telling the story of the chicken he never actually beat.