Gratitude swelled around him, a suffocating wave. Xiao Tian shifted uncomfortably, the villagers' cheers grating on his nerves. He hated this. Every fiber of his being screamed for anonymity, for the quiet obscurity he craved. Yet, here they were, bowing and praising, mistaking his desperate attempt at damage control for heroic prowess. "Please, rise," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the din. He waved a dismissive hand. "It was nothing. Pure luck, I assure you. Those rogue cultivators... they were clumsy." Nobody believed him. Their eyes shone with awe. The elder, a wizened man with eyes like ancient coals, approached, leaning heavily on a gnarled staff. His gaze was far too knowing for Xiao Tian's liking. "Young master, your modesty is as profound as your power," the elder said, his voice raspy. "But even luck does not manifest as a flawless Nine-Star Sword Formation. Never have I witnessed such mastery." Xiao Tian's stomach twisted. Mastery. He had just wanted to scare them away, maybe break a few bones. The system, in its infinite wisdom, had decided to *optimize* his minor distraction into a devastating, show-stopping spectacle. He internally cursed its efficiency. "Elder, you misunderstand," Xiao Tian insisted, trying to project sincerity. "I merely... swung my sword. The formation was a fluke. A coincidence of qi flow. Truly." Shakes of heads met his denials. The villagers exchanged knowing glances. This was precisely the kind of attention he couldn't afford. It attracted trouble, drew the gaze of those who would exploit, betray, or worse. "Come, young master," the elder urged, a quiet authority in his tone. "There are matters we must discuss. In private." Xiao Tian hesitated. His instincts screamed for him to run, to disappear into the forest and never look back. But he couldn't simply abandon the village now. The elder led him to a small, secluded hut at the edge of the village, its walls adorned with faded carvings and age-old talismans. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of dried herbs and antiquity. He sat opposite the elder, the flickering oil lamp casting long, dancing shadows. The elder produced a scroll, its parchment brittle and yellowed, its edges frayed. He unrolled it carefully, revealing intricate symbols and celestial diagrams. "For generations," the elder began, his voice dropping to a low, reverent murmur, "our village has protected this prophecy. Passed down from ancestor to ancestor, it speaks of a coming darkness, a blight upon the lands that will consume all light." Xiao Tian listened, his mind already formulating an escape plan. Another prophecy. Another chosen one. It was always like this in these backwater realms. Some local legend, some grand destiny, always foisted upon an unwitting traveler. He just wanted to cultivate in peace. "But the prophecy also speaks of salvation," the elder continued, tracing a finger along a specific line of script. "Of a 'Star-Touched One.' One whose power transcends the ordinary, whose arrival heralds the turning of the tide. One who bears the mark of the stars, reborn under a new constellation." A chill snaked down Xiao Tian's spine. Star-Touched One. Reborn. A new constellation. The words echoed his own reality, a past he desperately tried to outrun. He clenched his fists, knuckles white. "Elder, I am no Star-Touched One," he stated, his voice tight. "I am merely a traveler. My name is Xiao Tian. I cultivate a little, yes, but my abilities are... modest. My sword formation was an accident, I swear." Ancient eyes, heavy with wisdom, fixed on him. "The prophecy describes a power so immense it could be mistaken for a force of nature. It speaks of a 'celestial display' marking their arrival, of an aura that 'blazes with the starlight of myriad realms.'" Xiao Tian swallowed hard. The accidental 'Nine-Star Sword Formation' he'd unleashed. The way the villagers had described his 'blazing aura.' It was all too specific. His past life as Xian Tian, an Earthly Realm cultivator of immense power, had ended in betrayal, a consequence of his strength and the attention it drew. He had been reborn precisely to avoid such entanglements. "No," he whispered, shaking his head. "You're mistaken. There are many powerful cultivators. Many who could fit this description. I'm just... not that strong. Really." He felt the crushing weight descend. The burden of a destiny he never asked for, a role he was utterly unwilling to play. His core wound, the deep-seated fear of betrayal, throbbed. He had fallen once because he was strong, because he was visible, because he trusted. He couldn't go down that path again. "The darkness approaches, young master," the elder said, his voice now laced with urgency. "Our scouts have reported strange movements in the Whispering Woods. Shadow creatures, unlike any we've seen. Their presence saps the very life from the land." Xiao Tian's mind raced. Shadow creatures. A 'coming darkness.' This wasn't just about a local cult or a few rogue bandits. This sounded like the kind of cosmic threat that drew the attention of powerful, dangerous entities. Entities like the ones who had engineered his downfall in his past life. He wanted no part of it. He needed to be invisible, not a target. "I cannot," he stated, his jaw tight. "I am not the hero you seek. My path is one of solitude, of quiet cultivation. This... this grand destiny, it is not for me." His words fell on deaf ears. The elder looked at him with unwavering conviction. He saw not a humble traveler, but the 'Star-Touched One' foretold in his ancestors' sacred texts. Xiao Tian's denials only served to deepen the elder's belief in his humility, further cementing his heroic image. "The prophecy states the Star-Touched One will initially resist," the elder revealed, a faint smile touching his lips. "They will seek to avoid their fate, for the burden is great. But destiny, young master, has a way of finding its champion." Xiao Tian felt trapped. He had tried to be subtle. He had tried to be weak. But every attempt to diminish his actions only amplified the legend growing around him. The universe, it seemed, was intent on forcing greatness upon him, even if it meant dragging him kicking and screaming into the spotlight he so vehemently avoided. His past life's lessons screamed a warning. Great power, great responsibility, great betrayal. He couldn't allow himself to become entangled in another grand narrative. Not again. His heart pounded with a mix of dread and growing panic. He was not prepared for this. He was not strong enough to face whatever cosmic forces were truly behind this 'darkness' he was supposedly destined to repel. He was just Xiao Tian, trying to live a quiet life. "Elder, please listen to me," he pleaded, leaning forward. "My strength is a facade. A trick. I am not the one. I cannot protect this village from a coming darkness. I cannot repel anything." His words were desperate, genuine. He wished they were true. He wished he genuinely *wasn't* that strong. The thought was a painful reminder of his core wound, the gnawing belief that his previous power had been insufficient, leading to his demise. This new, accidental power felt like a curse, a magnet for the very dangers he sought to escape. The elder merely shook his head, a look of profound pity and admiration on his face. "Your humility is truly extraordinary, young master. But the signs are undeniable. The heavens have spoken." He wanted to scream. He wanted to vanish. He wanted to undo every single 'accidental' display of power he'd made since his rebirth. He just wanted to be left alone, to cultivate without the weight of cosmic expectations. The thought of being responsible for an entire village, let alone repelling some world-ending darkness, made his blood run cold. His gaze fell upon the ancient scroll, the intricate symbols twisting into a horrifying vision of his future. A future where he was once again a target, once again at the mercy of forces far greater than himself. A future where he might once again fall, betrayed. A chilling shriek echoes from the forest, and the elder's eyes widen in terror, pointing a trembling finger, "They've come for you."

Chapter 7: The Prophecy's Burden