Dao of the World Walker (Xianxia) Book 2

Yang stepped out of the room that had been his home since he woke on the banks of Sivlar a week ago.

Since the day the priestess had left after seeing him, he had spent all his time with Unaib, who had proved himself to be a caring and attentive caregiver. Initially, that had come with offers of wooden toys and made-up games for Yang to play with, but had seamlessly shifted into the role of a patient teacher once he had realized Yang responded far more readily to stories and knowledge about his life and the tribe than to play. After that, Yang’s days had become much more pleasant and had been filled with following Unaib around the house as he explained everything Nahar had apparently forgotten.

The thing that had made Yang the most curious was that, among the many villagers who had visited the house to see him, there had been none who had been introduced to Yang as family, no parents, siblings, grandparents, or uncles. It left him wondering if he was staying true to form, maintaining his record of being practically an orphan in every life.

It took a lot of prodding, circling, and asking leading questions before Yang understood why.

The Sivlar didn’t have any concept of blood or familial relations. 

To them, everyone born in the tribe was equally the child of the tribe. 

Children were fed by whoever was available and raised collectively by the whole tribe. They had no fixed home until they were old enough to make one for themselves. They went to sleep in whichever home they liked on a given night, as every house built had space for a couple of extra people. Once a child was born, they were breastfed by their birth mother or anyone else who was lactating, then simply raised by the whole village with no regard for who had birthed or sired them. 

Yang had noticed a few faces that looked similar amongst the adults and children he had seen walking and working around outside his window. But they had no concept of calling anyone by their relation. There was no mother, father, brother, or sister. Everyone was only addressed by their name or, in some cases, called by their role in the tribe.

Saral herself was the priestess because she was the strongest water wielder and therefore led the tribe. Apart from that, there was no other honor she was allotted. Even the children called her by her name.

To Yang, who had so far always lived in what to him was the traditional hierarchical structure across every life he had lived, it was a difficult social concept to grasp, but he appreciated the freedom and lack of ties being born in this kind of place brought him.

He had also tried asking more about wielding, but all the Sivlar this and Sivlar that left him unsure how much he could go by the tribe’s words. They really came across as religious fanatics, and all their talk of blessing, judgement, and punishment by the Sivlar led Yang to question and overanalyze everything he heard about this world’s power system.

He tried to get Raya to show him some water wielding, as he knew she herself was a practitioner, but apparently the water wielders had been warned against doing so near him without supervision lest he accidentally draw from them and hurt himself or others. 

Yang himself didn’t press the issue further after learning that. He didn’t know what would happen if he accidentally started drawing off one of them. The last thing he wanted to do was harm some poor kid.

He walked across the lush greenery and waved back at the adults and children working and playing around as he made his way towards the slightly larger building that acted as Saral’s house and the main hall for the tribe.

As he approached closer, he saw a few more teenagers making their way in the same direction. Many looked at him in wonder as they whispered to each other. Everyone in the tribe knew about his condition and was curious. Clearly, they weren’t familiar with the amnesia trope in dramas. 

He climbed the two steps and stepped into the hall.

Inside, nearly two dozen people of various ages, from around young teenagers to early twenties, were gathered around a series of over four-foot-tall water urns or were sitting on the floor. Saral stood on one side watching and guiding as two teenagers dipped their hands in the water in the urn and used the other one to draw swirls of water around the room.

A girl sitting near a corner waved at him. She looked around twelve, which made her the closest in age to Nahar.  Though ”close to his age” was a strong term considering he had found out that he was eight years old, and at this stage, four or so years was a big difference. But he was pretty sure the two of them were the only beginners, so it made sense to sit together.

Yang reached her and smiled as he took a seat on the wooden floor next to her. 

“Nahar. Do you remember me?” she asked before he even had a chance to turn to her.

Yang offered an apologetic look. “I do not. I am sorry.”

“It’s okay. I am Som. I will take care of you and help you learn how to wield since I am older,” she said confidently.

Yang couldn’t help but give her an amused smile. “You would?”

And she eagerly nodded, causing her curls to bounce.

“Making friends already?” A voice came from behind, and Yang turned to see Saral approaching and looking at them both. She took a seat in front of both of them with a smile.

“Today is both of your first day learning about wielding the waters of the Sivlar. I will explain the basics, and if you have any questions, you may ask me. Alright?” She asked

Yang and Som both nodded.

“Then we shall begin with what water wielding is.”

“We all are children of Sivlar, born from its water. When we reach a certain age,” her eyes briefly moved to Yang, “we get the ability to communicate with Sivlar better.”

She raised her hand and made a small fountain of water sprout out of her palm. Som let out a gasp, and even Yang leaned forward to look. He noticed that the water seemed to be condensing from the surface of her skin and rushing a few inches up before collapsing back into her skin. He also noticed that not a drop of water left her hand as she stably held the fountain in her hand while she spoke. “At first, you will learn to feel the waters of Sivlar. Once you have learned that, you will learn to draw water from a water source to your hand.”

“Will I be able to do that?” Som asked eagerly

“As long as you work hard, little Som,” Saral said with a smile, retracting the small fountain from her hand and sprinkling the last few drops onto Som’s face.

“You didn’t use a water source,” Yang said. 

Saral immediately turned her gaze to him, her eyes getting sharp. “I did. I am the source. Water is life, and all living things are made of water. It’s only a matter of skill to know where you can draw water from.” She explained.

Yang was aware of this but glad to see the tribe was knowledgeable about such things as well. It bode well for him learning more from them.

“What about what you and Unaib did to me last week to heal me?” Yang asked. While that energy was potent, it was not simply drawing and manipulating water. He wanted to know the intricacies and the upper limit of this system.

Saral looked curiously at him, though she didn’t seem displeased. “I didn’t know you were so scholarly, Nahar.” 

“I want to learn everything about water wielding,” Yang said clearly. He hoped that the personality change and his sudden scholarly inclination would just pass as a side effect of the amnesia, and barring that, he would not mind his intelligence being classified under the umbrella of Sivlar’s so-called ‘Blessings’.

“An expert water wielder can absorb the energy into their very soul. It was that energy that we used to check on your condition.” Saral explained clearly enough before raising a hand with a warning tone, “Do not go around trying it; you may harm yourself and others if you play around with forces beyond you. You have to learn to wield water completely before you can learn to absorb the Sivlar’s energy into your soul. Even Raya only managed to heal you because she was in the river herself.”

This gave rise to more questions in Yang’s mind instead of answers. He wanted to get clearer answers, but he was stuck refraining from doing so. He didn’t want to arouse any suspicions regarding himself. 

There were no meridians or dantian in his body. How did one draw the energy into the soul? How did one even begin to learn to recognize this energy? The bead was the main reason he had been able to absorb what he now knew as Sivlar’s energy, or rather, some kind of water elemental energy into himself. But what if there were no bead? Would he have been able to absorb the energy at all?

Yang felt a prickle of frustration at having to restrain himself from getting into an in-depth discussion and having to solely rely on Saral’s word. Logically, absorbing the energy should come before manipulating it. 

He was immersed in his thoughts when he suddenly noticed Som and Saral both standing, looking down at him. 

Saral smiled at him. “Come follow me. Be patient; you will learn all with time.”

Yang stood and followed Saral as she led him and Som outside the hall.

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