Chapter 170: The Missing Children

Chapter 170: The Missing Children

Country B [Willow-Brook Village]

Night had settled over Willow-Brook Village. The moon shone above the mountains, and lanterns glowed beneath the wooden eaves. Nearby, children laughed as they ran through the village square.

Beneath an old banyan tree, several elders sat around a wooden table. Since the apocalypse, their conversations had changed. They no longer spoke only of harvests, marriages, and the price of herbs. These days, they talked about cultivation.

"My son awakened a wind spirit root three days ago," one man said proudly, raising his cup. "The moment he touched the awakening stone, a gust swept through our courtyard."

"Is that so?" another elder asked.

"The village cultivator examined him. He says my son has potential." The man puffed out his chest. "With enough resources, he might even reach Foundation Establishment."

The others chuckled.

"Don’t get ahead of yourself. A spirit root doesn’t guarantee a glorious future."

"At least my son awakened something!" The man turned toward a plump woman sitting nearby. "Unlike some people, who are still waiting for their children to show any talent."

"Are you talking about me?" she asked, clicking her tongue.

"Did I say your name?"

"You didn’t need to!" She put her hands on her hips. "My daughter has already been invited to the Azure Wind Sect’s preliminary assessment. Once she passes, she’ll become an outer disciple."

The elders exchanged glances. Someone whistled.

"That’s impressive."

"Of course," the woman said, lifting her chin. "My daughter has always been clever. Her talent is finally being recognized."

She gave the man a triumphant look. "Perhaps your son can carry her luggage when they meet."

The elders laughed. The man nearly choked on his drink.

"Your daughter hasn’t even entered the sect, and you’re already treating her like its next grand elder!"

"Jealousy is an ugly thing."

Their argument continued beneath the moonlight.

Nearby, several children played hide-and-seek. Nobody paid them much attention.

Among them was five-year-old Anthony. He had messy black hair, round cheeks, and a worn plush rabbit tucked beneath one arm. He called it Mr. Bun. His mother had given it to him for his last birthday, and he rarely went anywhere without it.

"Anthony!" his mother called from their doorway. "Don’t wander too far!"

"I won’t, Mama!" He waved and ran back to his friends.

His mother smiled and returned to sorting medicinal leaves. Every so often, she glanced toward the children. They were close enough. There was nothing to worry about.

"Everyone, close your eyes!" a little girl shouted. "We’re playing hide-and-seek again!"

The children cheered.

Anthony covered his eyes. "Don’t peek!"

"I’m not!"

"You always peek!"

"Do not!"

Their laughter filled the square. One child counted while the others scattered between the houses, behind water jars, and beneath wooden porches.

Anthony ran toward a narrow passage beside an old storage shed, Mr. Bun tucked under his arm.

Then he disappeared.

There was no flash of light. No gust of wind. No scream or hurried footsteps.

One moment, the passage was empty. The next, it was still empty.

The lantern above the entrance flickered twice, then steadied.

The children kept playing.

"Found you!" a boy shouted, dragging another child from behind a water jar.

"That doesn’t count! You looked there first!"

"That’s the point!"

The children laughed. A few minutes passed before the girl who had been counting looked around.

"Where’s Anthony?"

No one answered.

"Anthony?"

She checked behind the shed, then beside the water jars and under the porch. Nothing.

"Anthony, stop hiding!" another boy called.

The children searched again, checking the same places twice. Still, he was nowhere to be found.

"His mother is outside!" one boy said. He ran toward her. "Auntie!"

Anthony’s mother looked up. "What’s wrong?"

"We can’t find Anthony!"

Her fingers stopped over the medicinal leaves. "What?"

"He was playing with us. Now he’s gone!"

She stood so quickly that her stool fell over.

"Where is he?"

"I don’t know!"

She rushed to the square and called his name. She searched the passage, the shed, the water jars, and the nearby houses.

Nothing.

"Anthony!" Her voice grew louder. "Stop playing around and come out!"

A child pointed toward the narrow passage. "He went over there, Auntie!"

She ran to it. Beneath the lantern lay a small plush rabbit. One ear had folded under its body. Its stitched eyes stared up at the sky, with one ear missing.

She stopped breathing.

"No..."

She picked it up with trembling hands. She knew the toy. She had repaired the loose stitching on its left ear two days ago. Anthony slept with it every night.

"Anthony!" she screamed.

She sank to her knees, clutching the rabbit. "My baby!"

The villagers came running. The elders left their table. The children stood together, frightened and confused.

"He was just here," Anthony’s mother said, looking from face to face. "He was just playing."

No one answered.

"Where is my son?"

One elder crouched beside her. "We’ll find him." Even he sounded uncertain.

The village chief arrived with several armed warriors. Someone had rushed to call him. He listened to the children and examined the passage. The ground was soft enough to hold footprints, but there were none leading away from the spot where the rabbit had been found.

He extended his spiritual sense. He found no trace of a teleportation technique, no disturbed dust, and no sign of a struggle.

"Bring the lantern closer," he ordered.

He examined the ground again, then stood. "Search the entire village. Check the houses, wells, storage sheds, riverbank, and woods. Don’t search alone."

The warriors spread out. Lanterns lit the roads. They searched the nearby forest and riverbank with their spiritual senses. They questioned residents and inspected abandoned buildings.

They found nothing.

No footprints. No blood. No broken branches. No sign that Anthony had ever left the passage.

Only his plush rabbit.

Anthony’s mother sat near the square, barely aware of the blanket someone had placed over her shoulders. She stared at the toy in her hands.

"Anthony..."

Tears fell onto its worn fabric. "You promised you’d stay close."

The chief returned after hearing the warriors’ reports.

"We’ve searched everywhere," he said.

"Search again," she pleaded. "He’s only five. He doesn’t even know how to cross the river alone."

The chief looked away, then turned to his warriors. "Continue until dawn."

"Yes, Chief!"

He faced Anthony’s mother again. "I’ll report this to the Arbitration Hall in the morning."

"Will they find him?" was what she could only murmur.

The chief hesitated. "I’ll do everything I can."?