Cultivation is Creation-Chapter 179: I Am Ke Yin

The robe fell from her hands as she rushed forward. Before I could react, I found myself wrapped in a tight hug that smelled of jasmine tea and home.

"My boy," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "You're really here."

I hugged her back carefully, trying to match the pressure she was using. Too tight would seem desperate and would easily crush her mortal body, too loose would seem cold and distant. Everything had to be perfect, had to match what her real son would have done...

"Lixue?" a male voice called from the back room. "Is everything alright? I heard the bell..."

"Hong!" she called back, still not letting go of me. "Come quickly! Look who's here!"

And then he was there too - tall and lean, with the same sharp features softened by laugh lines, his fingers perpetually stained with the dyes he used for the finer robes.

Looking at him was like seeing a reflection of what the original Ke Yin might have become, had his path led to needlework instead of cultivation.

"Father," I greeted him, the word feeling strange and right at the same time.

He stood there for a moment, just looking at me. Then, without a word, he stepped forward and joined the hug.

We stayed like that for what felt like a long time but was probably only a few seconds. Finally, Mother stepped back, wiping at her eyes.

"Look at you!" she exclaimed. "So handsome, and those robes... you really made it!”

She wasn't exaggerating about the changes.

Cultivation refined the body as much as the spirit, gradually enhancing one's appearance with each breakthrough. Even at Qi Condensation Stage 6, my skin had taken on that subtle luminosity common to cultivators, while my features had sharpened and refined themselves.

It was one of those things that had always seemed a bit too convenient in the novels: why were all the powerful cultivators described as devastatingly beautiful?

But now I understood.

The same energy that strengthened our bodies also perfected them, smoothing out flaws and emphasizing attractive features. No wonder so many young cultivators seemed to have stepped straight out of poetry.

"The sect has been good to me," I said, which was true enough in its way.

"You must be hungry," she decided. "I was just about to make lunch. Hong, close the shop: our son is home!"

"Mother, I can't stay long," I tried to protest. "There's a beast wave coming, and I need to help set up defenses..."

"All the more reason to eat well now," she insisted. "You can't fight on an empty stomach. Besides," her voice softened, "how can a mother not feed her son?"

How could I say no to that?

"Sit, sit!" Mother was already bustling around the kitchen area. "I was just about to make lunch anyway. Hong, could you get the good tea set? The one with the crane patterns?"

"Mother, you don't have to—" I started to protest, but she cut me off with a look that I somehow knew meant 'don't you dare argue with me about this.'

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"My son returns home after months away, having become a proper cultivator, and you think I'm not going to make a proper meal?" She shook her head, already starting to chop vegetables. "What kind of mother would I be?"

I caught Father hiding a smile as he retrieved the tea set she'd mentioned. It was their best one: a wedding gift from her parents, only used for special occasions.

"Here," Father handed me a cup of tea, the familiar aroma of his special blend filling the air. "Still remember how to hold it properly?"

It was a joke: probably referencing some childhood clumsiness: but my body moved automatically, fingers positioning themselves with the grace that came from years of practice I hadn't actually experienced. The muscle memory was perfect, even if the memories themselves were vague.

"Some things you don't forget," I said, taking a sip.

The taste was consisted of complex notes of oolong and jasmine with just a hint of something earthier underneath. Father had always experimented with his tea blends, treating them with the same careful attention he gave to his tailoring.

"Speaking of not forgetting," Mother called from the kitchen, "have you been eating properly at the sect? You look thin."

I almost laughed. This body was in the best physical condition it had ever been in, thanks to cultivation's enhancement effects. But I supposed to a mother's eyes, her child would always look like they needed feeding.

"The sect provides good meals," I assured her. "Though nothing compares to your cooking."

"Flattery will not get you out of eating a proper lunch," she replied, but I could hear the pleased note in her voice. "Now tell us about the sect. What have you been learning? Have you made friends? Are the elders treating you well?"

As she talked, her hands never stopped moving: chopping vegetables, seasoning meat, adjusting the fire under the wok. It was a dance the original had seen countless times, but watching it now, I noticed details the original Ke Yin probably hadn't. The way she unconsciously infused tiny amounts of qi into the ingredients, for instance. Not enough to count as cultivation, but just that trace amount that came from living near spiritual lands.

"It's... interesting," I said carefully, trying to figure out how to explain sect life without mentioning any of the more dramatic parts. "I've been focusing on formation studies mainly. It turns out I have a talent for it."

"Formations?" Father looked up from where he was setting the table. "Like the protective arrays on the granary?"

"Similar, yes. Though mine are more specialized. I can create barriers, early warning systems, that sort of thing." I decided not to mention the combat applications. No need to worry them unnecessarily.

"Always knew you had clever hands," Father nodded approvingly. "Remember how quickly you picked up basic stitching? Formations aren't so different from sewing, when you think about it. Both require precision, patience, understanding how different parts work together..."

He wasn't wrong, actually. The way he'd taught the original Ke Yin to visualize sewing patterns wasn't that different from how formation masters mapped out energy flows. I filed that comparison away for future reference: it might be useful for teaching others.

"Hong, stop trying to turn everything into a tailoring lesson," Mother chided, but her tone was fond. "Let the boy tell us about his life! Have you made friends? Found a nice girl perhaps?"

I almost choked on my tea. "Mother!"

"What? A mother can't be interested in her son's happiness?" She started transferring dishes to the table: when had she prepared so much food? "Though I suppose cultivation comes first at your age. Your father was the same way when we first met, always so focused on perfecting his craft..."

"Lixue," Father's ears had turned slightly red. "I'm sure Yin doesn't want to hear about that."

"Oh? And why not? It's a cute story! I never told you this but your father spent three months working up the courage to speak to me. And when he finally did, he pretended he needed help choosing herbs for a headache remedy..."

"I did have a headache," Father muttered. "From spending three months trying to work up courage."

The banter felt... natural. Comfortable. I found myself relaxing despite my earlier tension, drawn into their easy dynamic.

"The food smells amazing," I said, partly to save Father from further embarrassment and partly because it was true. Mother had outdone herself: there were at least six dishes on the table, each one looking better than the last.

"Just simple home cooking," she said modestly, though her pleased smile said otherwise. "Nothing fancy like what you must get at the sect."

That was debatable. The sect's food was technically "better" in terms of spiritual energy content, but it was also standardized for optimal cultivation benefits. This... this was food made with love, each dish chosen specifically because they were things that the original had enjoyed.

There was the twice-cooked pork with just a hint of spice, exactly how I apparently liked it. The winter melon soup that had been a childhood favorite. Even the vegetables were prepared the way I preferred: the string beans cut at precisely the right angle, the mushrooms sliced to the perfect thickness.

"Thank you," I said softly, and meant it. "This is... this is perfect."

"Eat, eat!" Mother urged, already filling my bowl with rice. "You're too thin. How can you fight spirit beasts if you don't keep up your strength?"

I noticed she'd given me all the best pieces: the most tender cuts of meat, the crispiest bits of vegetables. It was such a mother thing to do that it made my chest ache with an emotion I couldn't quite name.

"So," Father said as we began eating, "formations? Tell us more about that. The sect must have amazing resources for studying such things."

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I latched onto the safe topic gratefully. "They do, but I'm also part of the Formation Guild now. The guild has archives going back centuries, and I've been learning under Formation Master Chen Yong."

As I spoke, I found myself falling into the familiar rhythms of a family meal. It helped that their questions were genuine, showing real interest in understanding what I was learning rather than just politely listening.

"I…I recently became a Level 2 Formation Practitioner."

The words came out tinged with pride, even though I knew they had no idea what the ranking meant. Something about telling them made me want to stand taller, like a child showing off a good mark on a test.

"Level 2 Formation Practitioner!" Mother beamed, reaching across the table to pat my hand. "Our son, already achieving such things!"

The pride in their eyes was almost overwhelming. Father was trying to maintain his usual calm demeanor, but I could see the way his chest puffed up slightly. Mother wasn't even attempting to hide her joy, practically glowing with pride.

"That's my boy," Father said softly, and something in his tone made my chest tighten. "Always knew you were meant for great things."

"So these formations," Mother added more soup to my bowl before I could protest, "they'll help keep you safe during this beast wave business?"

"Absolutely," I assured her. "That's actually why I was chosen for this mission: my formation skills are particularly useful for defensive operations."

"Good, good," she nodded, but I could see the concern in her eyes. "Just... be careful, alright? Those beasts, they're not like the normal forest creatures."

"I know, Mother. We have a good team, and a solid plan. Everything will be fine."

"Of course it will," Father agreed, though I noticed him exchanging a worried glance with Mother. "Our son is a proper cultivator now. He can handle himself."

There was still pride in his voice, but also something else. A hint of... distance? Not emotional distance, but the kind that comes from knowing your child has stepped into a world you can't follow.

"I'm sorry I haven't written," I said suddenly, feeling the need to address the elephant in the room. "The sect... it's been intense. Very competitive. But that's no excuse. I should have found time."

"Oh, sweetheart," Mother's eyes softened. "We understand. It's a whole new world for you. Of course you needed time to adjust."

"Still," I insisted, "I'll do better. When I go back, I'll write regularly. I promise."

And the strange thing was, I meant it. Not just as something to say to make them feel better, but as a genuine commitment. These people: who had loved and raised their son, who had celebrated his achievements and supported his dreams: deserved better than silence.

"Well," Father smiled, "that's something to look forward to then. Though perhaps you could visit occasionally too? When you're not busy with important sect business, of course."

"Of course," I agreed, surprising myself again with how much I meant it. "I'd like that."

Mother beamed, adding more food to my bowl despite it still being half full. "Good! And maybe next time you visit, you'll be able to meet your new sibling."

I blinked, the words taking a moment to register. "My... what?"

"Oh!" Mother's hands flew to her mouth. "I wasn't going to say anything yet, but... well..." She looked at Father, who nodded encouragingly. "I'm with child. Just over a month along."

I sat there, stunned, as the implications sank in. A sibling. Not only had the original Ke Yin been an only child, but I had too...

Almost without conscious thought, I extended my spiritual sense ever so slightly. Sure enough, there it was: the tiniest spark of life, barely visible to my cultivation-enhanced perception. A new soul, just beginning to form.

"That's..." I searched for words, found myself smiling genuine. "That's wonderful! Congratulations!"

"We weren't sure how to tell you," Father admitted. "With you being away at the sect, starting your new life..."

"Are you kidding? This is amazing!" And it was. The idea of being a big brother: even in this complicated, borrowed way: filled me with an unexpected warmth. "Do you know if it's a boy or girl yet?"

Despite it only being a month, I knew there were techniques to predict a child's gender years before conception: complex divination methods using star charts and blood essence that could tell you not just the gender, but potential talents and even approximate cultivation aptitude.

But those techniques belonged to the realm of immortal sects and powerful clans, far removed from this peaceful village life.

Though it wouldn't surprise me if old Lady Zhu down the street claimed she had some secret method passed down from her grandmother: every village seemed to have at least one elderly woman with mysterious "traditional knowledge."

"Too early to tell," Mother laughed. "Though your father is convinced it's a girl."

"A father knows these things," he said with mock solemnity, then broke into a grin. "Though I was also convinced you would be a girl, so perhaps I'm not the most reliable source."

The conversation flowed easily after that, moving from the baby to village gossip to more stories about my time at the sect (carefully edited for parental consumption). Before I knew it, an hour had passed in what felt like minutes.

"I should go," I said reluctantly. "The team will be waiting, and we need to set up defenses before the beast wave arrives."

Mother's face fell slightly, but she nodded. "Of course, of course. Duty calls." She started wrapping up leftover food in leaves. "At least take some of this with you. Spirit beasts or no spirit beasts, you need to eat."

"Mother, I have a storage ring full of supplies. I don’t nee—"

"Storage ring or no storage ring, you're taking food with you." Her tone brooked no argument. "And you're coming back to say goodbye properly before you return to the sect. No disappearing without a word!”

"Yes, Mother," I agreed, accepting the wrapped packages with as much dignity as one can muster while being fussed over by a parent.

"And be careful out there," Father added, pulling me into another hug. "We're very proud of you, son. But we'd rather have you safe than heroic."

I hugged him back, then found myself wrapped in another embrace from Mother. "I'll be careful," I promised. "And I'll come back. Both from this mission and to visit properly once things are settled at the sect."

As I stepped out of the shop, food packages safely stored away and promises to return still ringing in my ears, I felt... different. Lighter somehow, as if some tension I hadn't even been aware of had finally released.

"Your heart rate has stabilized significantly," Azure noted. "And your qi flows are more harmonious than they've been since you started cultivating."

"Is that your way of saying family time was good for me?"

"I believe the technical term is 'emotional cultivation breakthrough,'" he replied dryly. "Though I suppose 'family time' works as well."

I smiled, looking back at the shop one last time. I had a beast wave to stop, defenses to set up, and a mysteriously acting teammate to keep an eye on. But somehow, none of those challenges seemed quite as daunting as they had an hour ago.

Perhaps that was the real power of family: not the emotional support or the practical help, but the way they could make even the most complicated situations feel manageable. And standing here, I realized something important: there was no point in constantly thinking of myself as an impostor.

If the family had noticed anything unusual about their son, they didn't mention it, whether it be because they were in denial or I did a good job at hiding it, I wasn't sure.

But it didn't matter anymore, for all intents and purposes, I was Ke Yin now.

The original might be gone, but his legacy lived on through me. His parents' happiness, his unborn sibling's safety, his village's protection: these were now my responsibilities, my privileges, my life.

Not because I had stolen them, but because fate, karma, or whatever cosmic force governed reincarnation had entrusted them to me. Sometimes acceptance wasn't about resolving all your doubts, but about choosing to move forward despite them.

"Master," Azure interrupted my philosophical musings, "I feel compelled to point out that you're still standing in the middle of the street, and several villagers are giving you concerned looks again."

"Right," I shook my head, turning toward where I could sense my teammates gathering. "Time to go save the village. Can't be a proper big brother if I let spirit beasts eat everyone, can I?"

"...I'm not entirely sure that's how being a big brother works."

"Well, we'll figure it out as we go. Just like everything else."

After all, that's what family does, right? Figures things out together, one step at a time.