ã€ŠI am The Kingã€‹


 Chapter 1

    <h2>Chapter 1</h2>

    "This is the place," Jamal exclaimed. It was like finding water in a desert. "His father, the king, had been trying to keep him in the Palace, with his head buried in a book or staring at teachers with a black board, studying about war, running a nation, finances and other irrelevant things.

    Thankfully, after years of research and spying¡ªscuttling about in his father''s chambers¡ª he had finally found it.

    The Tomb of Khan.

    It resembled an ordinary cave on the mountainside, nestled within the towering Caydunas mountain range, where peaks reached staggering heights of around 9,000 meters. This treacherous terrain was also home to 50 of the Jordee continent''s most perilous species.

    But why, you may ask, was the eldest son of the king, next in line to the throne and a prodigious cultivator of unparalleled talent since the founding emperor, found in one of the most dangerous locations on the continent?

    The answer, dear reader, lies in a literal key. It appears that nobody expects 12-year-old children to possess keys to anything these days ¨C be it locks, repositories, vaults, or concealed chambers shrouded behind layers of impenetrable galdeorite, guarded by the King''s Imperial Iron Brigade. It''s a rather irresponsible oversight.

    So, after sneaking in and out of his father¡¯s chambers and stea¨C borrowing the map to what he had been looking for. Jamal, immediately set out, traversing over and around dangerous swamps and the hunting grounds of multiple apex predators.

    Nonetheless, Jamal had arrived at this place, at the precipice of his life''s work, which, for a twelve-year-old, amounted to quite an accomplishment.

    The imposing doors before him were crafted from a material that seemed to hail from another realm. The wood itself exuded an aura of such value that it appeared to disdain the very mountain that housed it. The doors radiated an atmosphere heavy enough to stifle Jamal.

    wo symmetrical, black patterns adorned the doors, resembling the silent descent of a falcon upon its prey. The doors held a majestic presence, as if they carried the essence of Emperor Khan, asserting that the world was too small to contain him.

    Jamal, exercising caution and common sense, inched closer to the doors. He arrived in front of these magnificent barriers, representing nearly five years of his life ¨C a substantial portion of a twelve-year-old''s existence.

    But the doors remained unmoved, immovable like the imperial guards of the king''s chamber, the Imperial Iron Brigade, denying entry to all deemed unworthy of the king''s presence.

    Hours passed, and Jamal''s persistence waned. The doors remained steadfast, refusing to yield to the full extent of his fifth-stage cultivation.

    He had tried every conceivable approach, even resorting to bargaining with the doors. Jamal had offered his irritating cousin, Maribel as an offering to the doors if they opened for him, as though he weren¡¯t prepared to part with her regardless. In his eyes, Maribel was an unpleasant, bothersome presence who delighted in taunting him for his short stature.

    However ost men in the kingdom would eagerly kiss the ground walked upon by one of the top ten beauties on the continent, talk less off allowing her to be used as an offering.

    Jamal couldn¡¯t stand it anymore, in frustration, Jamal struck the wall with all his might. This action, however, led to an unforeseen consequence. Unbeknownst to him, a jagged rock lay precisely where his fist would land.

    Under normal circumstances, this would pose no threat to Jamal, a fifth-stage cultivator. However, it appeared that the spiritual essence of the door had permeated its surroundings, enhancing their perfection. The jagged rock pierced through Jamal''s knuckles and palm, leaving a gaping wound, with blood spurting across the floor and doors.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    "Aaaaaaaaah," Jamal screamed in unbearable agony, struggling to breathe. The rock seemed to act as a serrated blade designed to inflict maximum harm. Slowly but surely, Jamal''s wound began to heal.

    Amidst the chaos, Jamal noticed that the spilled blood was vanishing, as if being drawn into a concealed syringe. Then, a voice resonated from the very doors themselves.

    "Blood of my blood, crimson kin born of my being, your passage is sanctioned. Enter as you will, step forth." The voice exuded power, its deep bass tones akin to a nature-endowed opera singer, radiating a sense of invincibility. It suggested that the world was but a tiny speck within its grasp.

    The majestic doors gradually swung open, silent and smooth. They operated as if they were freshly crafted and then meticulously maintained every second of their existence. If they could produce sound, Jamal was convinced it would be a world-class symphony.

    Jamal hastily rose from the ground, clutching his right hand with his left, and cautiously entered the doorway, his gaze alert to any signs of danger.

    Inside the cave bore no similiarity to its external appearance. There were no stalagmites or pools of millennia-old spirit nectar. Instead, the walls resembled panels of an intricately secured safe, created to guard a single, immensely precious entity. Jamal struggled to identify the material that made up the cave''s interior, a surprising fact given his years spent within the palace and access to the Jordee continent''s finest education. He was prince after all.

    The inside of the cave had the perfect symmetry of a square, with dark gray walls that would have proven wrong any guess from the outside. As Jamal ventured further, dim lights along the cave''s upper edges illuminated his path.

    A staircase led to a colossal stone block, resembling the spine of a well-etched book, resting upon a pyramid-like structure with a flat, wide surface topping it off. Each step he took echoed solemnly, as though he were partaking in a sacred rite. At the top of the stairs, he laid eyes on the book in all its glory.

    The book''s hue was a profound black that seemed to consume any light that touched it. White-gold engravings adorned the book, leaving only a rectangular space for the word "Khan" inscribed in the same white hue as the splendid doors Jamal had passed through.

    Tenderly, Jamal turned the book towards himself to better discern the lettering on its cover. He then opened it to the first page, where the letters were inscribed as follows:

    This is the record of the life of Khan.

    In the quiet chambers of my thoughts, where the weight of the crown and the echoes of courtiers'' voices faded into less than nothing, I inscribed the beginning of this diary. At first, it was meant for these tired eyes alone, a sanctuary where my innermost fears and dreams could find refuge. A solitary confidant to bear the stories that etch themselves across my soul like scars. But as the years weigh upon my shoulders, I have come to realize the value of sharing the knowledge and wisdom that destiny has bestowed upon me.

    I am Emperor Khan Dahges, ruler of the realms, entrusted with the prosperity and fate of our people. The weight of this responsibility is profound, and with each passing day, I have witnessed the unforgiving hands of time carve lines upon my countenance and lessons into my very existence. As I pen this introduction, I am acutely aware that the echoes of my rule will persist through the ages, not solely in the form of decrees and edicts but in the lessons I''ve gathered from the maze like paths of power and leadership.

    This tome, initially a solitary endeavor, shall no longer be confined to the depths of my private chambers. My beloved descendants, I bequeath this chronicle to you. Within its pages, you will find not only a record of my reign but a compendium of the wisdom, the burdens, and the victories that have molded me into the leader I am today.

    May this diary serve as a lantern to illuminate your own journey through the intricacies of kingship and life. The victories and trials, the alliances and betrayals, the unyielding resolve and the unspoken regrets, all these are woven into the fabric of this narrative. I entrust it to you with the hope that you shall find guidance, solace, and strength within its aged leaves.

    I originally wrote this for myself. In the solitude of my chamber, I pen this diary, initially my confidant. Now, it becomes your guide, my children, heirs to this realm.

    In these pages, I''ve chronicled my reign, the challenges, and the victories. Learn from my legacy. As future rulers, find wisdom and strength within.

    I leave this book here in chamber KH-01, for my descendants, and for the future kings of Andoria-Dahghes.

    Jamal flipped the page again, turning to another sheet in the book, the black shade of the pages and their ephemeral white lettering, serving to give the book a cryptic aura.

    Right there, written on the beginning of the page was the record of the life of Khan.

    It went like this¡­

 Chapter 2

    <h2> </h2>

    Thud... thud... thud... thud. The rhythmic banging of the wooden shovel against the soft, waterlogged dirt filled the air with a somber beat.

    My young and lean body toiled tirelessly, shoving mud out of a steadily growing hole in the ground. The raindrops fell from the dreary sky, masking the tears that streamed down my face and stinging my reddened eyes even more.

    Beside me lay the only person I had been close to since the age of 8, when my mother had mysteriously disappeared ¨C my father, Ullyses Dahgehs, who had succumbed to hunger just two days ago.

    I had been away in the nearby forest, hunting for food to sustain the two of us, but upon my return, I found my father lifeless. The rain did nothing to wash away the pain in my heart. The stinking sense of betrayal hung in the air like a heavy fog.

    As I stood by that makeshift grave, the weight of my grief pressed upon me. It was then that I had a powerful realization ¨C there was nothing left for me in this place. With no other loved ones to turn to and my father''s fate serving as a stark reminder, an unwavering determination ignited within me. I had made a solemn promise to my father before his passing ¨C I would not just live this life, I would ascend as a cultivator.

    Becoming a cultivator was my path to importance and meaning in this pitiless world. I had heard tales of cultivators so powerful they could obliterate entire worlds with thoughts. This was my way to honor my commitments and transform into a person of significance.

    After I had the grave for my father, I prepared a meal from the game I had hunted in the nearby forest. Winter was approaching, making the hunt more challenging, and I had been gone for a month.

    Nothing was in order.

    I roasted the deer I had caught over a spit and placed it in to my father''s resting place. I had failed as a son, but at least I could let my father feast in the afterlife.

    With just the garments on my body, a blade, a few copper coins, a pouch of aromatic spices, and my name, I left the village. My father, Ullyses, had been a generous man who gave until he had nothing left. I always wondered where he found the coin to buy alcohol when our life was so marked by hardship.

    The villagers'' hushed whispers and ashamed glances followed me as I departed, a painful reminder of their ingratitude. I had shared my father''s generosity with them, even when their own resources were depleted. Now, they turned away from me, unwilling to meet my gaze. They had shown my father no gratitude when I was gone. Now he was dead. It was a humiliating but freeing revelation ¨C I had no true friends in the village.

    Turning my back on the village, I vowed to never cross paths with them again. I hurried away, knowing that the forest held dangers for those who traveled it at night. My destination was the Awoken Moon Sect, 10,000 kilometers away. Speed was essential- the cover of night made me a tempting target for nocturnal predators.

    In a matter of minutes, I left the village behind, the last remnants of my past life fading into the distance. The forest''s winding paths quickly became a labyrinth of unfamiliar greenery. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the nocturnal beasts of the forest stirred, their presence heralded by the screeching sounds.

    I was forced to find refuge in a tall tree, seeking safety from the predators that roamed the night. I climbed to the highest branch capable of supporting my weight and secured myself with a makeshift rope. It was time to rest.

    But sleep remained elusive as the unsettling racket of the night continued. My thoughts turned reflective, contemplating my journey from the village. The night was uneventful, except for the heart-rending sounds of animals meeting their fates just a few branches below.

    I, Khan, the future Emperor of the 12 realms, once the sovereign over even the tiniest ant, found myself shaken by mere mortal beings. I was starting from the bottom, and now, I was on a path that would take me to the top.

    The night passed uneventfully, except for the realization that the beasts I feared also feared others, creating a hierarchy of fear and power. I learned a lesson that night I knew would serve me well in my journey ahead.

    Lesson 1:Everything is prey.

    It was morning, and I had barely managed 30 minutes of sleep in the past 12 hours. With utmost care, I gradually rose to untie the cloth binding my ankle to the tree branch, ensuring no sudden movements or noise to attract unwelcome attention.

    I refused to meet the fate of surviving the treacherous night only to become a meal for some opportunistic predator. My determination to escape this unforgiving forest and transform into the person I aspired to be burned brightly within me. There were sacred promises, ones I had made to myself, my beloved mother, and, above all, my father, that I was unwaveringly committed to fulfilling. Self-pity found no home within my heart.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    The descent from the tree, though less arduous than the ascent, was a journey of its own. The tree''s massive form stretched nearly thirty meters above, its summit shrouded in mystery.

    During my descent, I managed to capture three squirrels of a size comparable to toddlers. However, I exhibited the wisdom to withhold from partaking until I was safely beyond the forest''s grasp. My belly may have grumbled in protest, yet it knew that patience was a virtue when survival was at stake.

    As the sun ascended in the east, I set my course northward, headed for the grounds of the Awoken Moon Sect.

    A bit over two days later, the edge of the forest finally came into view, marking the boundary where two contrasting worlds seamlessly merged. The transition from the dense, dark foliage to the vast expanse of open grasslands and overgrown fields appeared as an inviting place to pause and savor my hard-earned squirrel feast.

    This tranquil setting, free from the threat of larger predators, presented the perfect opportunity to enjoy my meal. Most formidable creatures were known to dwell deeper within the forest, their strength increasing with proximity to its heart, where it was rumored a mystical spirit beast reigned supreme.

    I had embarked on a perilous journey through the forest in the hope of securing acceptance into a sect, where I could acquire a cultivation technique. And yet, there was a beast that existe within the forest, naturally endowed with the power to cultivate without the aid of any technique, filled me with wonder and jealousy.

    I wanted their power for myself.

    Lesson 2: Come to terms with the world''s unfairness, and continue forward.

    I first started the fire with my knife and a nearby rock I could find. I had gathered some dry twigs and grass and placed them in a small hole I had dug into the ground.

    It was about the depth of the length of the first ring on my pinky finger, starting from the nail, and about three feet wide. You''d be surprised as to how well a large flat rock and a good old knife could substitute for a shovel.

    As soon as the fire started going, I put in larger kindling, one at a time, so I was sure the fire could handle it. It wasn''t long before the fire was roaring and crackling.

    I then cut an immature tree pole, and then split it into two. I sculpted the two parts of the pole into a slingshot shape, so I had two very large slingshots with the tail end being very long and the open part of the slingshot being about a finger''s length at its widest.

    Afterward, I placed the two slingshot-shaped pieces of wood at the edges of my fire, before cutting off another tree pole and shaping it into a spear.

    Now, I could finally get to the meat of the matter.

    Pun intended.

    The squirrels.

    I started by laying a dead squirrel on its stomach, then using a knife to cut into the tail of the squirrel.

    Once my knife got through, I turned the squirrel over before stepping on its tail and tugging on it using its back legs. The skin came off fairly quickly after that.

    I then proceeded to chop the head off before gutting its insides and throwing them in another hole I had made about a meter away.

    The good thing about the forest I had just come out of was how many water sources it had, so I quickly cleaned my rabbit and repeated the procedure with the other squirrels before roasting all three of them on the spit and lightly seasoning them.

    We had just come out of winter, so the people in the city near the Awoken Moon Sect were bound to be yearning for some fresh goods, especially spices.

    I ate quickly. Time waits for absolutely no man. Especially when he has something to do and a person to become.

    I set out again.

    Soon, I found a winding trail through a wheat field and some farmers working the land.

    I went towards the closest one before asking him for directions.

    ¡°Good morning, uncle, please where is the Awoken Moon Sect?¡±

    ¡°Mornin¡¯ kid. It''s straight down that path.¡± He pointed at a road to the left of the one I was already on. ¡°If you keep going straight once you get on that road, then you can''t miss it.¡±

    ¡°Alright, thank you, uncle.¡±

    The farmer turned around and waved me off so he could return to his backbreaking work. He probably had a quota to meet before the end of the day, or they might keep his weekly wages or some other form of punishment. Not too dissimilar to the methods I used when I got older.

    I went straight down and turned onto the path he had pointed to before heading straight. It wasn''t long before I saw a city.

    A city so large that I couldn''t even comprehend how it could exist in my little village mind. The most people I had ever seen gathered together in one place was about two hundred or so.

    From what I could see of the city from where I stood, it was clear that there were at least a hundred times that, just at the city walls, with workers bringing in bales of wheat and guards and supervisors checking in to see if the workers were actually bringing in the required amount and not shortchanging them.

    It was a sight to see.

    I would see many more in my lifetime.

    I kept going straight forward before I saw the Awoken Moon Sect.

    I paused.

    My breath, frozen, in a tug of war between my lungs and my mouth.

    To say it was breathtaking would not do it justice.

    The sun had recently bid its fiery farewell to the night, yielding to the moon''s dominion. Atop the tallest building within the sect, a colossal crescent moon-like structure perched, its broken form resembling a slice of a complete circle.

    The moon''s radiance transitioned from a subtle chill to a piercing howl, as though it were proclaiming its presence more fervently within the nocturnal sky.

    I was here. I was finally here.

    I gazed at the sect, my mind alive with the possibilities of the future.

    A new chapter had unfurled in the story of my life, and I was determined not to let it slip by.

    Now, it was onward¡­ to embrace what the future heldH

 Chapter 3

    <h2>Chapter 3</h2>

    The city was at the base of a gigantic mountain range. I could see it was about one hundred and twenty thousand miles long and about twelve thousand meters high and that was just what I could see.

    The city itself was surrounded by 200-meter-tall walls and was as thick as 2 large men standing side by side with their arms fully outstretched.

    On the inside of the city, at the very edge were 4 separate groups of villages that I could see. I learned later that they were collectively called the Humilis district.

    The Awoken Moon Sect building was carved into the mountain, with a large pagoda entrance at the foot of the mountain, flanking the pagoda, and substantial walls extended alongside the mountain range.

    This was only one of the Awoken Moon sect buildings built into the mountain range.

    The pagoda, constructed from a pale blue stone most likely sourced from a region within the mountain, featured three entrances.

    The largest one was in the middle, with golden engravings all over the walls of the entrance, while the other two on either side were smaller and had grey engravings running all over their entrances.

    On the highest peak of the mountain sat a crescent moon.

    The crescent moon-shaped object seemed to be made of some type of glass jade, designed not only to amplify the moon''s light but also its presence. I could feel it.

    I noticed a marked contrast between the nighttime atmosphere here and the forest; a thick, swirling fog enveloped the mountaintop.

    The distant, resounding howls of wolves reached my ears, yet these sounds resonated with an intensity that surpassed that of ordinary creatures.

    I pressed onward until I reached the entrance to the pagoda''s three gates.

    One of the guards at the entrance halted me as I got closer, asking for ID.

    ¡°I don''t have any ID, sir. I came from a little village about a three-day journey from here.¡±

    ¡°What village are you talking about? There''s no village around fro miles. I don''t care how young you are, kid, but you aren''t a kid anymore. Tell the truth or there will be consequences.¡± He took a step forward, with his hand moving onto the handle of the sword latched on his waist.

    I almost smirked at the irony, then I realized how much bigger he was than me. His physique resembled that of a slender yet formidable fortress.

    He stood at what was probably six foot one and had scars running all over his body. There was an especially nasty one on the right side of his neck. I was guessing this man knew how to squeeze the life out of me with his big toe.

    Translation: I would probably lose this fight.

    Thankfully, I didn''t have to fight.

    ¡°Oi, Jerki, I think he''s talking about that hamlet by that old Creek. The one with the skinny poor people.¡±

    ¡°Oh, thaaaat one.¡± Jerki turned back to me. ¡°You''re lucky, kid; you probably don''t have any identification, do you?¡±

    He sighed. ¡°Why do I always have to deal with these dirty newcomers? I wish I worked at the right-side gate, at least then I can work with the nobles.¡±

    The other guard who had told Jerki about my village, which was apparently a hamlet, had walked over by now.

    ¡°Evening, kid, why are you coming to the lovely city of Lunis, at this time of day?¡±

    I looked him straight in the eye. ¡°Cultivation. I want to become a cult-¡±

    ¡°BAHAHAHAHAH, you''re not the first one, kid. If cultivating was that easy, you think I would be here? Jerki, d¡¯ya hear the boy?¡±

    ¡°Hahah, sure did, Michael. He probably has a tragic backstory as well. So many kids have come through here to cultivate; I could probably guess it. What? Did some young master steal your childhood sweetheart? Your mom left you a magic ring or something?¡±

    My face scrunched up in confusion.

    ¡°Kid, if you really do have a magical item, you''re best off throwing it away. It''s so low quality that it''s more likely to explode and kill you at some random moment than actually help you.¡±

    ¡°I don''t have anything but the stuff in my bag. I opened it up to him to show what was inside.

    He lost his smile after that.

    ¡°You really are from that small den. Alright, kid, quick lesson. Those copper coins are worth enough for about 2 days of rent and 3 small, hot meals. After you get in, you''re going to want to find some work after failing the aptitude test. I recommend blacksmithing, or butchering.¡±

    I didn''t flinch at the obvious jab. One thing I had always had is belief in myself. I''d had it in spades my whole life.

    ¡°Thank you, sir. Is there a fee?¡± I looked at my pouch.

    ¡°I get paid by the hour. No. Just go in, there are enough of your kind around that nobody will notice an extra one. If you do become a cultivator though, you owe me one.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, sir.¡±

    He pointed over his shoulder at the left gate of the pagoda, indicating I should hurry off.

    I quickly said my goodbyes and left to join the small dwindling line of harvesters, farmers, and other people like me.

    I was let in through a long winding tunnel.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    It wasn''t long before I finally got inside the city.

    I only had one word.

    Disgusting.

    This place was a piping hot dung heap. Did the cultivators not care to keep their city clean?

    There was no way that cultivators lived here.

    I hated uncleanliness and disorganization. I expected cultivators to have that same attitude toward the city. It was even worse than my village.

    Granted, I did get up every morning to go around and make sure that it was clean. It would probably turn into a dung heap like this since I''ve left.

    Animals freely wandered the city, and I observed discarded meat strewn about. The path beneath my feet was a well-worn trail created by the local peasants, marked by occasional horse and cow excrement.

    Needless to say, I felt like I had been bamboozled.

    A beefy man, who seemed even shorter than me, noticed the dazed look on my face and came over to me.

    ¡°You new here, kid?¡± I nodded. ¡°Ha, that''s why you got that look on your face, you came from the pagoda at the entrance, right?¡± He didn''t even wait for my answer this time.

    ¡°You probably saw the breathtaking view of the city and thought that''s where you were going, huh?¡±. I continued to stare with a blank look on my face. He laughed again.

    ¡°This is the Humilis district. The city is divided into three, the Humilis District, the Gallant District for nobles, and the Middle district for wealthy commoners. For people like us. If you want to go to the city you probably saw, then you have to either be a noble, very rich, or,¡± He looked around nervously, ¡°a cultivator.¡±

    My eyes widened in realization while the corners of his mouth curved up as he smiled in satisfaction.

    I asked, ¡°I saw the sect as I came towards the city. How do I get accepted to the sect?¡±

    He glanced at me knowingly and said, ¡° Planning to become a cultivator, eh? My son is also trying this year. They are having a test three days from now. It starts at dawn. If you pass the test, then you get into the sect, if you don''t, then you get rejected.¡±

    ¡°Then where do I go to take the test?¡±

    ¡°Don''t worry about it, kid, looking at you, I''m guessing you don''t have a place to stay. Stay with me for the next three days, you also don''t have money, right? You can help around my house, and then you can go with my son to the sect.¡±

    ¡°Alright, thank you, sir.¡± I immediately took off the bag of farming equipment from his back and invited him to show me the way.

    Soon, we were at his house. It was marginally better than the mud huts we had back in my village.

    The floor was made of earth and straw, and the furniture consisted of a few stools, a trunk for bedding, and some cooking utensils. He had only 3 kids, which was weird when most peasants had over 13 and he didn''t look that young.

    A couple of minutes later, his son also came to the house. It turned out he was a town guard in the Gallant district. He was tall, much taller than me, but most men were taller than me at that time and looked like he was specially formed of thin, wiry, cords of muscle. It was no surprise to me then, when I saw the look of pride in his father''s eyes at the sight of him.

    He was probably counting on his son to take them out of the peasant life.

    The son''s name was Hoffnung, and the dad¡¯s name was Henley.

    Hoffnung¡¯s two sisters immediately pounced on him with cries of joy when they saw him. He beamed and showed teeth whiter and more perfectly aligned than most peasants.

    His sisters screamed louder as he picked them up and let them sit on his biceps. They couldn''t get enough of him.

    The oldest looked to be 6 years old; her name was Isabella, and the youngest, about 5 or so, was called Charlotte. It was sad.

    Not because they were peasants but because they were beautiful. They looked like they should have been born as princesses. They would definitely dignify the arm of any king they were on if they grew old enough.

    That was the problem. It was a curse to be pretty as a peasant. It was like being a fat, slow, cow in the presence of starving lions.

    I looked into Hoffnung''s eyes and saw the fierceness of the fire that burned in them. He understood what I did. That explained his physique and job better to me. Being accepted into the sect was likely also his only hope.

    What awaited his sisters if he didn¡¯t was apparent to all three of us men in the room. I had just met them and I didn''t even want to think about it. I could imagine the feeling was a hundred times more intense for their brother and father.

    I wanted to ask where their mom was, but, judging from the appearance of the father, I could tell the girl''s beauty didn''t come from him.

    I didn''t have to ask to know what had happened to their mother. She probably caught the eye of a noble one day and then disappeared.

    She would be dead by now since it seemed the kids didn''t remember their mother. They were the only ones willing to talk about the little they remembered about her. If she wasn''t dead, then it was best if her kids didn''t have to go through seeing her again.

    She''d be a shell of a person if she was still alive.

    Henley nodded and pointed out the door at me before looking at his son. I understood the message and started to walk outside. It seemed they wanted to talk to me.

    Hoffnung put down his sisters and spoke in a deep, gravelly voice, which irked me because he was only a year older than me, and he already sounded like a man. My voice still sounded like it was in transition.

    ¡°Sit down and keep yourselves warm by the fire, okay? If you keep still and be quiet, I''ll give you a giifftt¡± His voice turned into some sort of sing-song tone the longer he talked to his sisters.

    ¡°Yaay, gift!¡±

    ¡°Is it pondi buns?¡±

    He glared at them, because they still weren''t sitting down,before they went to sit down by the fire and pouted. Chuckling, he walked outside with his father.

    Henley started talking as soon as we were all outside. I''ve not already introduced you guys, but,¡± he looked at his son, ¡°this is Khan, he will be staying here till the Awoken Moon Sect has its entrance test, then you guys will be going together. He will also be helping me out with stuff that needs doing at and around the house or at the farm till then.¡±

    Hoffnung nodded at me. I nodded back.

    ¡°Those are my sisters in the house, the oldest is Isabella, and the youngest is Charlotte. Touch them and I''ll make sure you won''t be able to feel anything ever again. Got it?¡±

    ¡°I don''t appreciate the tone, but I understand.¡± If I had sisters that would also be my reaction, especially if they were as beautiful as them.

    ¡°Alright, you and Hoffnung will be sleeping on the mat on the floor. The girls will be on the bed with me. If you need anything, ask Hoff or me.¡±

    Henley then headed inside, followed by me, then his son. Henley could make a surprisingly good meal for someone who looked like such a muscle head.

    It was time for bed not long after. Henley was snoring on the bed within seconds; he was probably tired from work, and then having to play with his daughters at the end of the day. They were sprawled on either side of his body, with drool coming out of their mouths.

    The bedding was riddled with bedbugs and other biting insects.

    The candles made of oil and fat served to create a pungent aroma which just made it harder to sleep.

    For the 2nd time in a row, I couldn''t sleep. Neither could Hoffnung apparently. Because he was outside practicing with his spear. I could hardly look away. Even if he couldn''t cultivate, he was definitely talented at fighting.

    He noticed me not long after and stopped.

    ¡°What do you want?¡±

    ¡°Can''t sleep.¡± He gave me an appraising look.

    ¡°You can watch but don''t bother me.¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡±

    As he turned around again, I saw the markings on his back. They looked like scars.

    ¡°What happened to your back?¡±

    He glared at me. ¡°You were supposed to keep quiet and not interrupt me.¡±

    Khan just continued to stare at his eyes.

    ¡°I was whipped.¡±

    ¡°Why? You don''t seem like the type to steal or commit a crime.¡± This time he whipped his spear so that its point was barely a hair''s breadth away from my neck.

    He clearly didn''t want to talk about this, but I couldn''t sleep, and this seemed like an interesting story.

    ¡°Go away.¡±

    ¡°Sure. After you tell me what happened. I''ve never seen scars like that. Not even when the hunters in my village got clawed by a beast. Also, your dad has let me into his home when I don''t have a place to stay. If I can help, I want to.¡±

    ¡°They took my mother and I tried to stop them.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡±

    ¡°You should see the ones on my dad''s back. They are way worse.¡±

    ¡°They beat you both for trying to save your mom?¡±

    He sighed; if you want a story, you can have it, but you will sit down quietly and not disturb me after.

    I nodded.

 Chapter 4

    <h2>Chapter 4</h2>

    This was strange. I wasn''t the type to get involved in other people''s business, especially after all that time alone in the forest. But now... maybe I was craving some human interaction. Or maybe I was just bored. Either way, I didn''t like it.

    In a world of cultivators, that was basically a death sentence¡ª being a nosy person. However, it didn''t take long for him to start;

    "4 years ago, the grounds master for the Awoken Moon Sect came over to the city for an inspection. They let us peasants off that day in order to not offend the ''esteemed cultivator.''

    We took it as a day off and visited the market together as a family¡ªmy mom, dad, and then us three siblings. We were just going through the market, spending time together..."

    <hr>

    On a sun-drenched morning, the village market came alive with activity. Laughter and smiles seemed to be in endless supply as the market''s vibrant atmosphere welcomed the townsfolk. Hoffnung couldn''t help but admire his mother''s grace and elegance as she walked hand in hand with him, radiating warmth and kindness to everyone they passed.

    Amid the bustling market, the cheerful chatter of vendors and shoppers combined with their laughter, creating a harmonious symphony of happiness. Marianna''s grace was captivating, turning heads as they passed, but what truly caught everyone''s attention was the unmistakable love in her eyes as she gazed at her family.

    Henley, their father, was a pillar of protection, walking beside them with Hoffnung''s two younger sisters in tow. The girls clung to his strong hands, finding comfort in his reassuring presence. As they explored the market''s stalls, surveying the array of fruits, flowers, and handcrafted wares, their idyllic morning was suddenly marred by a sinister presence.

    A man with wicked intentions had spotted Marianna, and the glint in his eyes showed an unwavering obsession had just been ignited¡ª a malevolent determination within him. He moved with ill concealed stealth, his eyes fixed on her radiant beauty, casting a predatory gaze that sent shivers down Hoffnung''s spine.

    Hoffnung was the first to notice¡ªa slight shift in the air, like a sharp chill running down the small of his back. The warmth of the sun seemed to fade in that instant, as if something had cast a shadow that had fallen over their sunlit scene. His heart began to pound, each beat echoing a higher sense of unease. The familiar buzzing of the market¡ªits laughter, its joy¡ªsuddenly seemed distant. A cold weight settled in his chest, between his lungs and his throat, making his breath shallow. His instincts screamed to freeze- to stop everything and run, but he clenched his fists, refusing to obey the fear creeping up on him.. He looked around for whatever was causing this before noticing the poorly concealed man.

    Hoffnung reached for his father''s hand before his grip tightened, the warmth of his father¡¯s palm a stark contrast to the cold dread creeping up his spine. Their eyes met in a single, shared moment¡ªa silent understanding passing between them. It was a moment that felt stretched, as if the world around them paused for just a heartbeat. They didn¡¯t need words. The agreement was clear: they would protect their family, no matter what.

    Henley, with a voice that carried both strength and concern, instructed Hoffnung to stay close to his sisters. The urgency of the situation weighed heavily on his heart.

    Stepping forward, Henley''s protective instincts were at the forefront of his mind. The man''s sinister intentions were evident to all who witnessed his approach, like the bright insignia of the Awoken Moon Sect on a full moon night. Henley was determined to shield his family from harm.

    Marriana, sensing the impending danger, sought refuge behind a market stall, away from her husband and son. But the man showed no sign of relenting. With bold determination, he reached for Marianna''s arm, his grip forceful and invasive. Marianna''s expression shifted from radiant warmth to shock and discomfort, and her radiant smile was replaced by a look of distress, cutting Hoffnung like a blade.

    "Release her!" Hoffnung''s voice echoed through the market, an unexpected wellspring of courage surging within him.

    Henley¡¯s movements dripped with intention, his every step measured as if the weight of the situation pressed down on him. His face remained stoic, but beneath it, a fierce determination burned in his chest. The need to protect his family surged through him like a storm¡ªfast, raw, unstoppable. His muscles tensed, ready to act, every instinct screaming for action as he advanced toward the threat.

    The tension in the market remained palpable, its witnesses frozen in place, their eyes locked onto the unfolding drama. The sinister man''s twisted grin grew ever more wicked as he tightened his grip on Marianna, savoring her distress.

    Henley moved quickly, his body =, driven by pure instinct, the need to protect his family pushing him forward with a force that felt almost primal. Each step was a rush of adrenaline and something else, his body moving before his mind could fully catch up. Every fiber of his being was focused on one thing: getting between his family and the looming threat. A formidable collision ensued, echoing through the air as Henley was sent tumbling back into a display of fruits and vegetables, his protective instincts warring with the brute strength of their assailant.

    It was undeniable now¡ªthis man was a cultivator, and his presence had shattered the peace of the once vibrant market. A silence, like a soundless sonnata of clashing bells, descended upon the villagers as they dared not offend the powerful cultivator in their midst.

    Hoffnung, his young heart aflame with determination, seized a nearby basket, swinging it at their assailant with unwavering resolve. But their resistance called forth additional foes who emerged from the shadows to join in the brutal assault.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    Despite their valiant efforts, Henley and Hoffnung were battered and outnumbered. They fought ferociously, yet their attackers showed no mercy. The odds stacked heavily against them, their assailants striking with ruthless brutality.

    As the ordeal reached its brutal climax, Henley and Hoffnung lay on the ground, their bodies battered and broken, the cultivator''s allies showing no restraint.

    The most senior of their attackers, cruel in both intent and demeanor, considered extending the punishment to Hoffnung''s sisters. The rage that surged within Hoffnung only intensified their ruthless assault.

    Witnessing his son''s defiance, Henley could only plead, his tears and snot mingling with the dirt and blood that stained his face. The cruel cultivator, in turn, savored their suffering, reveling in the agonizing symphony he had orchestrated.

    However, a man in light grey robes arrived with a small wooden box containing an Imperial Dragon Fruit. Gao Lan, a powerful cultivator and the Head of Grounds at the Awoken Moon Sect''s outer court, ordered that Henley and Hoffnung be restrained.

    They were shackled to a beating post, a brutal and public form of punishment, their backs turned to one another on a raised circular platform. The whole community would watch, an unwilling audience to their pain.

    Hoffnung''s sisters, trembling and crying, were led away by a neighbor named Uncle Jary, who sought to shield them from the harrowing spectacle. Henley pleaded for mercy, but his pleas fell on deaf ears.

    Lashes on lashes rained down upon Henley, while his son could only bear witness, shackled and bound. Hoffnung¡¯s throat burned, a suffocating feeling that refused to choke him, as he fought back his tears, every lash on his father¡¯s back an agony of its own. His father¡¯s teachings echoed in his mind, but nothing could quell the storm of helplessness and rage that threatened to consume him.

    Gao Lan, the cultivator, declared that for every 100 lashes Henley endured, Hoffnung would be spared one. Hoffnung endured fifty lashes, but his father, exhausted and broken, collapsed.

    The village healer, Kim, cared for Henley''s injuries, but the weight of the punishment had taken its toll. As the days passed, it became evident that Henley''s slightly hunched back would serve as a lasting reminder of their ordeal.

    "That''s the story," Hoffnung concluded with a heavy heart, the memories of that fateful day forever etched in his mind.

    "You don''t want to hear my story?" Khan inquired, to which Hoffnung replied in the negative.

    Hoffnung, with a smirk, observed, "Lemme guess¡­ some sort of tragedy and now you''re here for vengeance or something."

    *Hmph*, "No".

    Hoffnung''s perceptive response underscored the fact that his story, while sad, was not an anomaly. With resolve burning in his heart, he remained determined to carve a path that would set his tale apart.

    Khan grudgingly conceded, "Fine, I''ll leave you alone. Let me know when it''s time for me to wake up. I don''t want to oversleep when I should be helping my benefactors."

    Hoffnung nodded and returned to his spear training. The next morning, Hoffnung shook Khan awake, the exhaustion of the previous day''s events still weighing heavy on their eyes. The Awoken Moon Sect''s entrance test was just two days away.

    "Get up, ''Aunt Clattern,'''''' Hoffnung urged Khan with a playful nickname. Khan begrudgingly rose, groaning with fatigue.

    "Morning, Hoffnung," Khan muttered, "What do you need me to do around here?"

    Hoffnung outlined their tasks for the early morning, involving chores with the chicken coop and tending to Betsy, their elderly ox. As the sun rose, they worked diligently to complete their tasks before Henley and the girls awoke.

    Khan appreciated the work ethic and comradery that had already formed between them. "It''s about 3 AM now," Hoffnung noted, "and I''ll be leaving around 5. Before that, help me with the chores. We''ll be finished before Pa and the girls wake up."

    Khan agreed and they began the morning tasks together. Within 45 minutes, their work was complete. Sweating and tired, they shared a brief moment of respite, sipping the meager water they had, and taking a seat on the sturdy bench beside the house. For a place like this, the bench was a testament to Henley''s friendships with skilled craftsmen in town.

    With the morning sun on the horizon, Khan turned to Hoffnung with a request, "Hey, Hoffnung, do you mind teaching me that spear technique you were practicing the other night? I''d like to at least prepare for the sect¡¯s entrance test."

    Hoffnung considered Khan''s request but eventually shook his head. "Two days of practice won''t be enough to secure a spot in the sect. And you look fit, like you''ve seen battles. Don''t you have your own practice sets to

    Hoffnung gazed deeply into his eyes, unwavering, and discerned the dogged resolve that burned within them. Those eyes told a story of their own.

    "Sure, but don''t expect it to help you much," I replied.

    "Thanks," he said.

    I snorted and got up to teach him the technique. About an hour later, Henley also woke up, Hoffnung had left for his guard post about ten minutes before.

    "Morning, boyo. Has Hoff gone off to the guard station yet?" Henley asked.

    "Yes, sir. He left just before you woke up."

    "Mmm, alright. I''m going to make breakfast for the kid and us, then we can head off to the city farming fields."

    It took Henley about 30 minutes to get everything ready before he woke up the girls for breakfast. Khan and the girls sat around the fireplace and ate their food. Afterward, Henley and I walked the girls to a relatively large and well-kept hut where we found an old lady, probably 100 to 120 years old. She had wrinkles upon wrinkles, and her neck area looked like a tortoise''s neck. Most people would have just nodded or exchanged greetings with her until they looked into her eyes. Those eyes held the look of experience earned through decades of work in her region of expertise. Her eyes golwed with a sharp wisdom, making it feel like you should think twice before underestimating her. She was called Healer Kim.

    After bidding farewell to our companions, Henley and I embarked on a serene escape to a farm nestled just beyond the bustling city walls. The soft, golden glow of the sun''s ascent at around 7 AM illuminated our rustic haven. These two days unfurled as a refreshing interlude, where the rhythm of farm life offered us a respite from the urgency of our journey.

    The evening preceding the sect entrance exam was fraught with a unique blend of excitement and trepidation. As the sun dipped below the horizon, whispers of anticipation danced in the air. Disciples huddled in contemplation, recognizing that the forthcoming sect evaluation wasn''t merely a test of martial prowess. It was a profound journey, a quest to unveil their inner strengths and weaknesses.

    In the waning light of day, the collective spirit of aspirants brimmed with determination. With every passing moment, the sect evaluation drew nearer. It was more than a mere examination; it was a portal to a realm of profound self-discovery. As twilight cast long shadows, disciples steeled themselves for the challenges and revelations that awaited.

    With hearts resolute and unwavering, disciples embraced the impending sect entrance exam. Their journey wasn''t solely about martial prowess but about the indefatigable pursuit of excellence. As the sun set on the eve of the evaluation, they ventured forward, driven by their aspirations and the unshakable belief that their destinies would soon intertwine with the mysteries of the martial world.

 Chapter 5

    <h2>Chapter 5</h2>

    The much-anticipated day had arrived, and I found myself awake earlier than Hoffnung, busily preparing for the entrance tests. Even Henley and the children were out of bed earlier than usual, fully aware of the day''s significance. Our purpose for the day was to escort my elder brother, Hoffnung, and our new family friend, Khan, to the entrance of the sect for their pivotal tests.

    The air was charged with palpable excitement, a sensation as electrifying as it was undeniable. Anticipation rippled through our veins, raising the tiny hairs on our necks, forearms, and legs. We completed our daily chores with remarkable swiftness; this was no ordinary day, and none of us could afford to overlook any task.

    While the official testing hour was set at 6 AM, candidates were expected to assemble at 5 AM. As the clock neared 3 AM, the restless night had taken its toll on all of us. We gathered around the comforting warmth of the fireplace, restlessly fidgeting, and provided soothing words of reassurance to both Hoffnung and Khan. The girls even serenaded us with their lullabies, a touching effort to calm Hoffnung, who was practically bouncing off the ground with nerves.

    I couldn''t help but find my daughters'' gesture profoundly endearing. It was one of the sweetest things they had ever done, and it melted my heart. With the arrival of dawn, we knew it was time to commence our journey. The sect''s entrance was approximately an hour''s walk away, so we had left promptly at 4 AM.

    We made the tough decision to leave the girls under the protective care of Healer Kim''s clinic, refusing to expose them to any unsavory or influential individuals that might be present. We would rather face any potential danger ourselves than risk any harm coming to them. The Awakened Moon sect''s cultivators paid little regard to a person''s social status in the non-cultivation world, except in cases where individuals were connected to more influential figures. This meant that peasant children and aristocrats alike would be taking the test side by side, all crowded in the same compact space.

    Upon our arrival at the sect entrance, just before 5 AM, we were met with the sight of a vast and hopeful throng of approximately a thousand candidates and their accompanying families. This was a life-altering event, one that had the power to shape the destinies of generations yet unborn. It was a momentous occasion that demanded the presence of family members as witnesses.

    As time ticked away, more and more families joined the swelling crowd. By the official starting time of 6 AM, well over a thousand aspiring cultivators had congregated at the entrance. The atmosphere was electric, humming with anticipation as we stood closely packed together, akin to sardines in a can. With no cultivators in sight yet, and only a couple of formidable guards present, the opportunity remained to grab their attention with the right incentive.

    This particular sect testing hall was the closest one to our village, and the sense of expectation was palpable. At precisely 6 AM, three figures emerged, all dressed in the sect''s distinctive robes. One of them was garbed as an elder, while the other two donned the attire of outer sect disciples. The grey-haired man, dressed differently from the others, exuded an air of authority and commanded immediate respect.

    In the most commanding voice I had ever heard, the elder declared, "Form three lines." His voice carried a weight so undeniable that it felt as though the world itself bent to heed his words. In mere moments, over a thousand people arranged themselves into three perfectly organized lines, sorted by height.

    Hoffnung and Khan found themselves in the third line. The grey-haired man continued, "One by one, you will approach me and this podium." A podium, adorned with a glowing, floating cube, had materialized seemingly out of thin air, positioned before the three figures. The elder took center stage behind the podium, flanked by the two outer sect disciples.

    The grey-haired man went on, "Place your dominant hand on the cube and follow my instructions. Understood?" The entire assembly responded in unison, "Yes, sir!" Even the thousands of family members standing to the side joined in, though they hastily silenced their conversations when the three figures cast disapproving glares in their direction.

    The elder pressed his hands to the sides of the cube, setting it into rapid rotation while emitting thick white gas. One of the disciples to the left called upon a young boy from the first line to approach the podium and instructed him to place his dominant hand on the cube. The boy complied, and a fog enveloped his hand, gradually coalescing into a miniature cyclone.

    After a minute, the fog remained white, and the disciple to the left declared the boy as "Undeveloped" before summoning the next candidate. The process continued with each person who approached the cube.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    A girl, around 15 years of age, with blonde, curly hair and captivating green eyes, followed the same procedure. In a matter of seconds, her fog turned black with multiple white spots. The disciple on the right announced, "Star grade. Premium!" The grey-haired cultivator''s eyes widened in surprise, and he ordered the disciple on the left to escort the girl inside immediately.

    Without a word, the disciple promptly seized the girl and whisked her away into the sect''s entrance hall, disappearing in a matter of seconds. The elder returned to his composed posture, but then he instructed the disciple on his right, Bareem, to ''use more energy.''

    As the testing continued, it was finally the turn of those in the third row, where Khan stood. He watched as several candidates ahead of him underwent the process with the cube. When it was his turn, Khan approached the podium, placed his hand on the cube, and followed the elder''s instructions. The fog swirled around his hand, gradually taking on a pale brown hue.

    Bareem promptly declared, "Root grade. Subpar. Failed. Next." The word "Root" echoed in Khan''s ears, leaving him with mixed emotions. It wasn''t the best result, but it was better than having no grade at all. He began to make his way back to where Henley was.

    Upon seeing Khan''s result, Henley met his eyes with understanding and explained, "I understand, kid. The same thing happened to me when I was younger, but my result was even worse ¨C I received no grade and couldn''t cultivate at all. Let''s wait for Hoffnung to finish and then join us."

    As the testing went on, Hoffnung finally had his turn. Out of the thousand applicants, only a hundred were able to cultivate, heightening the tension. As Hoffnung approached the podium, the three figures surrounding the cube, his movements seemed increasingly urgent.

    This was his moment, the solitary path toward becoming someone capable of safeguarding his sisters and exacting vengeance on those who had harmed his mother. Each day, the memories of his mother''s fate and the beatings he endured as a child plagued him. The nightly wind''s mournful howling often brought back vivid recollections of the barbed whip''s lashes on his back.

    He valiantly fought back tears, stifling sobs in silence, determined not to reveal his vulnerability to his father. This was his singular opportunity, and he was resolute in seizing it with unwavering determination.

    In a seemingly disinterested tone, the elder instructed, "Place your hand over the cube." Hoffnung acted with the utmost urgency, and the fog, as it had done for countless others, began to twirl around his hand, gradually taking on a light blue hue with flashes of white. The elder''s raised eyebrows signaled his surprise, "Oh? Sky grade. Premium. Step aside with the others."

    Hoffnung beamed with pride, turning to glance at his father with joy in his eyes. Henley smiled and nodded, acknowledging his son''s remarkable success. Hoffnung had been tested for his cultivation capability four times prior, and each time, he had been marked as ''undeveloped.'' This triumph marked a pivotal moment in his life.

    Hoffnung promptly joined the ranks of the other hundred cultivators standing to the right of the elder, a few steps behind the disciple on the right. After further hours of testing, the evaluations were complete, and only 116 candidates exhibited the ability to cultivate.

    This group included 85 individuals with Sky grade (Subpar) ethereal bridges, 25 with Root grade (Premium) bridges, and 7 with sky-grade (Premium) ethereal bridges. Only one person had been found with a Star grade bridge, which was the girl who had been escorted away earlier.

    The elder, with a wave of his hand, made the podium disappear and addressed the candidates in his authoritative voice, "There are two paths to cultivation: spiritual cultivation through your ''Ethereal Bridge'' and body cultivation through your physique."

    He explained that the next test would be a focus on physique. The most recognized indicator of an individual''s body cultivation talent was their "Gravitas Factor," which assessed the amount of force their bodies could generate relative to their mass. This factor was categorized into five grades: Mono, Modest, Capable, Mighty, and Cosmic.

    With this additional challenge, the candidates were presented with a new opportunity. Excelling in body cultivation could offer a different path towards realizing their aspirations. It was an opportunity to reach for the sun, to soar like eagles with outstretched wings.

    The elder continued, "The test is simple. You will all be placed in our force generation array. Last as long as you can inside the chalk circle, and we will give each of you a red coin. Rub it when you are unable to endure any longer."

    The candidates were measured for their mass, and the disciples recorded their names and aura signatures. Subsequently, every candidate, regardless of their spiritual cultivation talent, was led into a square arrangement marked with peculiar symbols and drawings on the ground, positioned at the square''s edges. Inside, chalk circles were drawn to measure the force output.

    As the candidates took their places within these chalk circles, the ground began to radiate a bright blue light. In an instant, the gravitational force within those circles increased tenfold. In less than a minute, nearly 500 candidates reached their limits, urgently rubbing their red coins to signify their inability to continue.

    The force of gravity returned to normal within those circles. Another 300 candidates yielded after five minutes, and 200 more after twenty minutes. An hour later, the remaining candidates found themselves unable to endure any longer, marking the end of the test.

    The final stage encompassed physical assessments, such as running and striking objects to record the force of their punches. These evaluations aimed to identify candidates who, despite having average or subpar ethereal bridge talents, might possess a greater aptitude for body cultivation.

    It was a chance for those candidates to discover whether their aspirations could elevate them to new heights, enabling them to soar like eagles with outstretched wings.

 Chapter 6

    <h2>Chapter 6</h2>

    ¡°No anchor grade.¡± The elder¡¯s voice was cold, indifferent, as though sealing my fate meant nothing. He had done this many times before, I could tell, but somehow I could feel he cared just as little during those times as he did now. My hands trembled at my sides, and I couldn¡¯t tell if it was from anger or despair. This was it¡ªthe verdict that shut every door I had ever dreamed of opening.

    The results were out. Khan had even less body cultivation talent than he did with qi. Only twenty individuals had any real body cultivation talent, with them all being at Mono body anchor grade. In the realm of body cultivation, this marked them as individuals of minimal talent.

    With this his fate was sealed, there was no way for him to cultivate. Especially with a deformed spirit conduit, his body was doing its best just keeping him alive. It¡¯d be easier to see a carp jump over the dragon¡¯s gate than see Khan cultivate in any meaningful way.

    But, let¡¯s focus on Hoffnung for now, after all, Khan may depend on him later on.

    Among the Sky Grade candidates, Hoffnung stood out¡ªnot just as the only commoner but as a constant irritant to nobles- His betters. How could a peasant have better talent than they did?

    Furthermore, the look in his eyes, he didn¡¯t regard them as anything to be scared of. He looked like he thought about as much of them, as they did of him, before he got such a high evaluation.

    It stung their pride. A slap in the face. Made all the worse, because of the person who was doing it.

    Among these nobles, there was one that was especially peeved, seeing as they both had the same talent levels. His name was Hung Lee.

    Hung Lee hated Hoffnung all the more. Every glance that he directed at Hoffnung was sharp with contempt. For someone like Hung Lee, born into one of the most prominent families in the inner city- the real part of the town- away from all the human filth, this was far more unbearable for him.

    How could they share the same spot under the sky? Furthermore, his cousin was already a cultivator in the sect. If he got a hold of Hoffnung, and roped him into his faction, not becoming head of the family would be the least of his problems.

    He¡¯d be grateful if his head was still attached every time he woke up from sleep. If that peasant with talent met his cousin, everything he had built could crumble. He glanced at Hoffnung again with barely concealed anger, gritting his teeth.

    ¡®Should I rope him in? No, roping him in is out of the question! How could I share my plate with a dweller of the Humilis district?¡¯

    He was already building a new faction among these nobles. They hadn¡¯t much time to speak before, and he didn''t see the reason as they all belonged to unimportant families.

    ¡®At least I waited till the tests were over.¡¯ He couldn¡¯t imagine having to waste his precious time investing in relationships with his lessers.

    The elder, accompanied by the outer sect disciples, cleared his throat again to get attention from those surrounding the sect grounds.

    "Should your body anchor grade in body cultivation rank as Mono or higher, and you manifest ''root'' or lower as your spiritual conduit grade, proceed to the right. You are destined to embark upon the path of body cultivation."

    "Conversely, if your spiritual conduit talent is rated at Root Grade (premium) or higher, and your body anchor grade attains Mono or surpasses it, you will be acknowledged as a Spirit cultivator. Please shift to the left."

    "Those blessed with equal proficiency in both body and spirit cultivation may exercise your choice of path. Everyone else may leave"

    Candidates hurriedly positioned themselves within the prescribed groups.

    The elder, seeing that his orders had been followed, nodded approvingly. ¡°The two disciples here,¡± he pointed at each side, ¡°will be escorting you towards the parts of the sect you now belong to. You shall get some time to say farewell to your families.¡± The plain look on his face somehow got colder, ¡°Be here before sundown.¡± He clapped his hands together in dismissal.

    Slowly, I trudged toward the edge of the sect grounds, I could hear the chatter and laughter of those who had passed. Families embraced, and some candidates boasted loudly about their potential. It was as though I didn¡¯t exist¡ªa shadow fading into the background.

    My fists clenched as a boy nearby beamed about his ¡®good¡¯ rating. I didn¡¯t need to hear it; the word ¡®failure¡¯ already echoed loud enough in my head.¡±

    The walk back felt endless. The further I got drove the word deeper into me: failure.

    When a mother nearby rushed to hug her son, I averted my gaze, the sting in my chest too sharp to bear. By the time Henley greeted me with his usual warmth, I couldn¡¯t meet his eyes. He didn¡¯t say the words, but the pity in his voice cut me deeply.

    I looked out again at the elder, who was already turning back.

    He swiftly disappeared through the sect gates, suddenly, the place erupted in chatter. Hoffnung, with nothing else to do, quickly located his father and Khan, before walking towards them.

    Only a few steps in, Hung Lee and his new posse of three nobles stopped him. An outer sect disciple looking on, the leader stepped forward, ¡°Congratulations,¡± there was no smile on his face, ¡°A commoner from the humilis district having a sky grade spirit conduit, impressive,¡± he placed a hand on Hoffnung¡¯s shoulder, one of his lackeys stepped forward, his grin too eager, as if desperate to impress, the other hesitating before looking at the sect disciple, then closing in as well. ¡°You¡¯d do well to remember, ¡° he spat out the next phrase, ¡°peasant, talent doesn¡¯t make you untouchable. Sect members have¡­ accidents all the time.¡±This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    Hoffnung, rage already painting his face red, looked to the outer sect disciple, who acted like nothing was happening, he could see what was going on now. His fists itched to swing but he forced himself to think properly-the disciples almost cocky indifference making it clear, if the disciple was already on his side, escalating this would just make it worse. But still, that time he was a kid was the last he would allow himself to be stepped on.

    So he chose to smack the noble¡¯s hands off. Getting into a fighting stance, ¡°I¡¯m sure I can take care of myself¡±

    Hung Lee smiled, amused, it was much more fun when they fought back. ¡°Why so defensive, friend? I was only giving you some advice.¡± He nodded towards his men, ¡°We¡¯ll be out of your hair, we just wanted to say hi.¡±

    After the exchange, they sauntered off.

    Hoffnung finally let his fear crack through, ¡®Enemies so early¡­¡¯ They even had an outer sect disciple on their side!

    He made sure, to maintain the stance a while, as he watched their backs fade away, then walked towards his father, Khan by his side, they had been obstructed by the throng of people moving around saying their farewells and heading home.

    He sped up towards them, while Henley, brimming with excitement, rushed to his son, enveloping him in a heartfelt embrace, his heart filled with pride. Hoffnung returned his father¡¯s big hug, a huge grin on his face.

    With a lighter countenance, Hoffnung announced, "I''ve done it, Dad. After four years of being the underdeveloped child, I''ve finally done it."

    Observing the unspoken connection between father and son, I took a step back, I did not want to intrude on their already generous hospitality.

    The smile on Hoffnung¡¯s face was tinged with a cold, resolute determination¡ªa resolve borne of injustice¡ªand Henley understood it all too well. What could he say? Stop? Abandon his thoughts of vengeance? He couldn¡¯t do it¡­ he wanted it too.

    As much as he might have yearned to exact revenge himself, he was content with his son bearing the mantle.

    Henley, noticed how awkward it had gotten with Khan just standing there by the side, pretending to look off into the distance. "Alright, boys, let''s not get too caught up in the moment," Henley proposed. "We have a soon-to-be cultivator in our midst."

    "I''m not a cultivator yet, father." The objection was raised with very little actual resistance, and a slight grin.

    "In my eyes, you''re every bit a cultivator, son. Let''s gather your sisters. We''ll invite Healer Kim and Uncle Jary. I¡¯ll make sure it¡¯s a big celebration."

    Henley was already listing names of friends to invite, his excitement filling the space around them. I forced a smile and nodded where I thought I should, but I couldn¡¯t shake the weight in my chest. Failure wasn¡¯t just in my mind¡ªit was in the way Henley¡¯s voice softened when he spoke to me, in the glances he gave me when I wasn¡¯t looking. I wanted to be happy for Hoffnung, but all I could feel was the sharp, cold edge of envy.

    They trudged back to Henley¡¯s home, each step heavier than the last for Khan, but light and hopeful for the father-son duo.

    The echo of ¡®failure¡¯ still rang in my ears, a cruel reminder of what I lacked. Henley greeted me with his usual warmth, but I could see the pity in his eyes, the words he didn¡¯t say. ¡®It¡¯s alright, kid,¡¯ he said, clapping me on the shoulder. ¡®There are other ways to make your mark.¡¯

    I forced a smile, but inside, a quiet rage burned. If the sect wouldn¡¯t give me a path, I¡¯d carve one with my own hands.

    ¡°Besides, you''re young and have your entire life ahead. You''re welcome to stay with me for as long as needed, but in return, you must continue with Hoffnung¡¯s chores."

    Thank you, Uncle Henley,¡± I muttered, trying to muster sincerity.

    ¡°No need to thank me, kid,¡± he said, chuckling softly. ¡°Let¡¯s just focus on celebrating Hoffnung¡¯s success, alright?

    It was obvious he was trying to cheer Khan up. ¡±This is a time for celebration."

    With a nod, I summoned a faint smile, recognizing the harsh truths of our world. Most individuals would not spare a thought for someone like me, but I refused to cast a shadow upon the spirits of those who had demonstrated compassion.

    The house filled quickly with laughter and the smell of roasted meat. Healer Kim handed out mugs of steaming tea, and Hoffnung¡¯s sisters danced circles around him, giggling at his awkward attempts to dodge their excitement.

    I lingered near the fire, my back to the warmth, watching the joy from a distance. I wanted to believe Henley¡¯s words¡ªthat there were other ways to make my mark. But all I could think of was the sect¡¯s rejection, the cold indifference in the elder¡¯s voice, and the suffocating feeling of doors closing all around me.

    Henley clapped Hoffnung on the back, pride shining in his eyes, but when he glanced at me, his expression softened. ¡®This is a day for celebration,¡¯ he said gently. ¡®We¡¯ve all got something to be proud of.¡¯

    A few hours later, I accompanied Hoffnung and his family to the sect for his initiation. Healer Kim had already bade farewell to the girls earlier. After their departure, we returned to Henley''s humble abode. As the world slumbered, I sat by the fire, stoking the flames, and lost in contemplation. Denied entry into the sect, I faced limited options, and whatever choice I made still had to lead me to if not a cultivator, then something very close. I did not want to give up so easily.

    With a piece of wood, I etched my thoughts into the sand illuminated by the faint glow of the half-moon behind me.

    The sect¡¯s doors were closed to me, but there had to be another way. From what I could see of the place so far, I had a few options open to me; maybe I¡¯d mine spirit stones, clawing my way up for scraps of knowledge. Or I¡¯d find work as a guard,like Hoffnung, hoping some passing cultivator would notice me. Whatever it took, I¡¯d find a path forward. One way or another, I¡¯d get what I wanted¡ªeven if it killed me.

    I paused and sighed, "It would be better if I got some sort of cultivation manual, even if it didn¡¯t work well with my spirit conduit, maybe I could just brute force it?

    This was exhausting.

    I wouldn¡¯t spend the rest of my life fetching water or patching roofs or any other menial job, there were other paths-there had to be, and I would make one mine¡ªeven if it meant I didn¡¯t have any help.

    I didn¡¯t know how or when, but I would find a way to carve my name into this world. I wasn''t about to let rejection define me,especially not with this mark etched into my arm like a curse. I scratched at it, trying to see if I could take it off but it refused to budge, glaring in the moonlight, as if trying to mock me.

    ¡®Fine¡¯, I thought. If the skies want me to fail, I would gladly go against them.

 Chapter 7

    <h2>Current Chapter 7:</h2>

    Khan sat silent, brooding and in deep thought, weighing his future, he understood that this moment was pivotal for whatever success he wanted to achieve.

    ¡®Wait,¡¯ Khan thought, quickly, ¡®Cultivators valued wealth and influence even  in the mortal circles although, to a far less degree than those who couldn¡¯t cultivate¡ªif I could gain both, perhaps I might be able to angle myself into getting someone to offer me a manual one day.¡¯

    With such a dream, it wouldn¡¯t happen in a few months or even a year, but it was a path, and that was enough for the budding emperor.

    As he considered his options, a daring plan began to take shape in his mind.

    It wouldn¡¯t be easy, or hard, it would be near impossible. Especially getting a cultivator to value or even regard him enough to trade a cultivation manual with him. They kept those secrets notoriously guarded, no matter what faction they belong to.

    Cultivators rarely dealt with mortals unless it suited them. But if Khan could offer something they needed, maybe someone would take him seriously.

    Surely cultivators didn¡¯t source all their own supplies, by themselves did they?. They¡¯d need someone like him¡ªsomeone who could make their lives easier, for a small fee,yes a very small of course. Khan cackled to himself. If anyone saw him now, they might think his poor cultivation evaluation had driven him mad.

    He thought to wield his accumulated goodwill as a bargaining chip. Would it work? What was to stop them from just killing him and taking whatever they wanted?

    Khan couldn¡¯t afford to dwell on any doubts he had, it might shatter his already harmed ego.

    Even If they couldn¡¯t show him how to cultivate, they could at least guide him on something else that could work¡­ right?

    Khan knew his plan sounded like a long shot¡ªmaybe even foolish¡ªbut it was a start. Cultivators rarely bothered with mortals unless they had power or influence¡ªand even then, it was usually on their terms. He¡¯d need to tread carefully, proving his worth without offending anyone. Wealth would be his first step¡ªwithout it, he had nothing to offer; with it came opportunities to connect with the right people

    Khan was aware it would not be easy, he would encounter many problems along the way. He¡¯d need to complete every task flawlessly, build connections with the right people, and¡ªabove all¡ªavoid offending anyone. Cultivators weren¡¯t known for their patience with mortals

    Khan''s goal was now clear; earn enough goodwill to convince a cultivator it would be in his best interest to help him. It would be a tough sell, and a long journey, but he¡¯d have to take it one step at a time.

    Khan knew the first step was to gain wealth and influence. Without them, his plan wouldn¡¯t go anywhere.

    Khan thought about how he could start building influence. Merchants seemed to thrive in the area¡ªfood staples, tools, and other essentials were always in demand. Maybe he could start small, trading what people needed most. It wouldn¡¯t be much at first, but it was better than nothing.The idea sparked something in him. Maybe he could become a traveling merchant, bringing more than just food to the people.

    Intrigued by the notion of broadening the range of goods he could offer to the discerning masses, Khan¡¯s mind raced with ideas. He could sell more than just food¡ªtools, clothing, anything people needed..

    However, Khan was not oblivious to the pressing and practical need for securing gainful employment. While Henley''s gracious and magnanimous hospitality had provided him with a place to call home and a means of sustenance, it was not lost on Khan that such an arrangement had a transitory quality.

    Driven by pragmatism, he recognized the importance of seeking formal employment, an endeavor that would serve the dual purpose of financial stability and the accumulation of resources for his budding business ventures.

    After thinking through his plan, Khan lay back on his mat. He didn¡¯t have all the answers, but he had a direction¡ªand that was enough. After a moment of respite, he ventured outdoors to embark on the relentless practice of the cultivation technique imparted to him by Hoffnung. The bright sun ascended into the azure sky, casting its warm and illuminating glow. Meanwhile, the industrious Henley and his dutiful daughters commenced their daily duties. At that juncture, Khan had already diligently completed his assigned household chores, his heart and mind fully aligned with his aspirations for the future.

    Approaching Henley, who had just concluded his morning ritual, Khan greeted him in a cordial tone, affirming, "Good morning, uncle Henley." Khan said, his voice steady

    Henley nodded, noticing the determination in Khan¡¯s eyes. "Morning, Khan. You¡¯ve been busy. Got something on your mind?

    Khan, in his characteristic manner, elaborated on his aspirations, revealing, "I have a fervent desire to explore the vast hunting grounds that sprawl across the fields. In my ancestral village, I was celebrated as a proficient and accomplished hunter."

    In response to Khan''s revelation, Henley, mindful of the established hunting regulations, offered to intercede with the supervisory authority on Khan''s behalf. Sensing the gravity of this opportunity, Khan eagerly embraced Henley''s offer, showcasing his unwavering commitment to this newfound avenue.

    Henley,gave Khan a thoughtful look, "Most kids your age are trouble to deal with,,¡± he said, scratching his hairy chin. ¡°But you?¡­ You¡¯ve got your priorities right. You¡¯ve got focus. That¡¯ll take you far"Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    ¡°Thank you, Uncle Henley. I just want to make the most of this chance."

    Henley clapped him on the shoulder. "Good. Let¡¯s get moving¡ªwe¡¯ll send my daughters to Healer Kim¡¯s, and I¡¯ll take you to the farm after.¡±

    Khan gathered his things and followed Henley. The journey to Healer Kim''s and subsequently to the farm flew by.

    Henley, greeted multiple people as he led the way towards the supervisor, knocking respectfully to be let in through the shabby door.

    They were let in with a little delay, a little show of power.

    Khan remained at Henley''s side as he introduced him respectfully to the supervisor.

    The supervisor studied Khan, doubt flickering across his face. He frowned, his gaze sweeping over Khan, measuring him and finding him lacking. ¡°You don¡¯t seem like the type for this kind of work,¡± he muttered, ¡°I¡¯ve seen plenty like you¡ªbig talk, little substance,¡¯ the skepticism in his tone clear. ¡°We¡¯ll see if you can prove me wrong.¡±

    The supervisor laid out the hunt¡¯s requirements¡ªeach task more grueling than the last. and intentionally demanding. His eyes lingered on Khan as if daring him to back down. ¡°You¡¯ll find the tools in the equipment room,¡± He gestured toward the equipment room without much care.

    Khan squared his shoulders, his voice steady as he replied, ¡°Understood, sir. I won¡¯t fail.¡±

    The supervisor paused for a moment, perhaps expecting hesitation or excuses, but when none came, he merely nodded.

    The supervisor¡¯s expression didn¡¯t shift as he dismissed them, leaving Henley and Khan alone. Henley hesitated, his concern evident. He leaned closer and said in a low voice, ¡°He¡¯s testing you,I don¡¯t know why, but he doesn¡¯t like you, you know. ¡± Henley murmured, his voice low. ¡°That quota¡¯s not just high¡ªit¡¯s a setup. He doesn¡¯t think you can do it, and he¡¯ll make sure everyone knows it when you fail.¡±

    Khan¡¯s jaw tightened, but he gave Henley a calm smile. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Uncle Henley. I can handle it.¡± His eyes held a quiet determination, quelling Henley¡¯s unease, though only slightly.

    Henley sighed, clapping Khan on the back

    Khan nodded, gripping the equipment tightly as he headed out. The task ahead was daunting, but backing down wasn¡¯t an option. "Don¡¯t worry, Uncle Henley. I can handle this. The quota won¡¯t be a problem."

    Henley hesitated but nodded. "Alright, but don¡¯t overdo it."

    Throughout the day, he masterfully set traps, artfully concealed himself, and hunted with precision, returning with more than enough game to surpass the quota.¡±

    Khan returned with a full haul, enough to silence the supervisor¡¯s doubts, he unveiled his bountiful catch with a quiet sense of pride, shocking the supervisor.

    The supervisor quickly put his facial expression under control, settling for a raised eyebrow as he glanced at Khan¡¯s haul. ¡°Not bad,¡± he muttered, handing over a modest ten copper coins. ¡°You¡¯ve earned a place here¡ªbut keep this up. Fall short, and you¡¯re out.¡±

    ¡°Understood, sir.¡± Khan nodded, his face steady, trying not to show any sort of emotion. He was good at hunting but he wanted to really sell the image, as if this was nothing for him.

    The supervisor gestured to the attendants, who took their cut of the game before outlining the terms: a fifty-percent commission on anything above the daily quota.

    The deal wasn¡¯t fair, but fairness didn¡¯t matter here,Khan accepted it without complaint, swallowing his pride. Life rarely was, and he had no time to dwell on it.

    As the supervisor and his attendants were leaving, Khan approached him cautiously. ¡°Sir, about the surplus¡ªmay I use it to prepare a meal?¡±

    The supervisor waved him off, his tone uninterested. ¡°Do what you want, just keep it quiet.¡±

    Khan saw an opportunity. He was new here and his new found success might ruffle some feathers. With Henley¡¯s help, he set aside the foxes and a deer for himself and began preparing the rest for a feast. The farmers deserved it, he thought¡ªpeople who worked so hard rarely had the chance to enjoy a full meal.

    Khan seasoned the birds and rodents with the few spices he had remaining in his satchel, cooking them over the fire. With Henley''s assistance, he skillfully prepared the venison. Henley, deeply moved by Khan''s generosity, acknowledged the daily struggles that weighed upon the local populace, a struggle for sustenance and nourishment.

    As the scent of grilled meat wafted through the air, villagers gathered, their surprise evident in every smile and word of thanks.

    The farmers gathered, grateful for the rare feast. Laughter and conversation filled the air as they ate, their smiles genuine. Khan sat by the fire, watching the scene unfold. Khan¡¯s actions didn¡¯t just feed the farmers¡ªthey made him part of the community.

    For the farmers, the feast was a rare luxury, one that earned Khan their respect in ways money couldn¡¯t.

    As the feast concluded, Henley turned his attention to Khan''s plans for the remaining venison. Khan shared his plan to sell the remaining meat at the marketplace, determined to turn the surplus into a valuable stepping stone for his goals. ¡°It¡¯s a good start,¡± Henley said, nodding approvingly. ¡°We¡¯ll get you the best price for that venison.¡±

    Together, they loaded the sled with their spoils, tying down the bundles of meat to keep them secure. As they trudged along the uneven path back to Henley¡¯s home, the older man glanced at Khan, his expression turning thoughtful.

    ¡°Khan,¡± Henley began, breaking the comfortable silence, ¡°there¡¯s something you need to remember. Next time you hunt¡ªor any time you deal with the supervisor¡ªyou¡¯ll want to keep a few of the finest cuts for him.¡± He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°I saw the way he looked at you today. He¡¯s not the kind of man you want holding a grudge.¡±

    Khan frowned slightly but nodded. ¡°I understand. I¡¯ll make sure to set something aside for him.¡±

    Henley gave him a firm clap on the back. ¡°Smart lad. It¡¯s not just about respect¡ªit¡¯s about keeping your options open. People like him don¡¯t need much of an excuse to make life difficult. Best to stay on his good side.¡±

    As they neared Henley¡¯s home, the sight of the house, warm and inviting, brought a sense of accomplishment. Back inside, Khan quickly set to work, preparing the venison for sale and storing the rest. Henley watched him with quiet approval, admiring the boy¡¯s focus.

    It wasn¡¯t long before Henley¡¯s daughters returned. The sight of the carefully grilled meat and the lingering scent of roasted venison stopped them in their tracks. ¡°Wow!¡± one of them gasped, her eyes widening. ¡°All this food¡­ is it for us?¡±

    Their smiles brightened the small home, their joy infectious. For a moment, the weight of the day lifted, replaced by the warmth of shared satisfaction.

    After the meal, Khan went outside, finding it more comfortable to stay out in the cold night weather.

    He gazed at the stars, possibilities swirling in his mind, his dreams steeped in the promise of wealth and power. . This was only the beginning¡ªthe road ahead would be steep, each step treacherous and every step forward would bring its own dangers. But no matter the cost, he¡¯d carve his own path¡ªto a destiny the skies couldn¡¯t deny him.

 Chapter 8

    Chapter 8

    The scent of freshly cooked food filled the air, an unexpected comfort after days of constant light hunger.

    The joyous expressions on the faces of Henley''s daughters quickly faded as they rushed to claim the very first morsels of the meal.

    The older daughter darted forward, her hunger driving her to grab the food first. However, she paused and, with a glance towards her father, politely asked, "May I have a bite?" The girls sat in a loose circle.

    Henley nodded with a smile and responded, "Of course, sweetheart, but don''t forget to thank Khan; he''s the one who provided us with this delicious feast."

    "Really? Thank you, Brother Khan!" She beamed, her eyes lighting up with gratitude, eagerly digging into her meal. Her younger sister joined her, echoing the sentiment.

    Khan nodded at the girls'' thanks, his mind occupied with thoughts of his plans. The warmth of their smiles barely registered¡ª his expression polite but distant.

    Henley¡¯s family had been kind, but Khan couldn¡¯t afford to let himself get too attached. Gratitude was fleeting; he¡¯d learned not to rely on it.

    He reciprocated their thanks by saying, "You''re welcome, but I couldn''t have done it without your dad,"

    While Khan thanked the girls, their focus remained on their meal, too absorbed in savoring the food to notice much else.

    Beside him, Henley sighed and said, "Doesn''t seem like they¡¯re listening."

    Khan offered a calm smile in response, though his mind was elsewhere. Outwardly composed, he was lost in thought, turning over the day''s events and what they meant for his future.

    Having earned ten copper coins for his day''s labor, he examined the ten coppers in his palm. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was a start. The real question wasn¡¯t how much he had¡ªit was how he¡¯d use it to grow. Was ten coppers a decent start, or barely anything at all? He couldn¡¯t tell yet, but he knew it had to be enough¡ªfor now.

    More pressing on Khan''s mind was the looming question of how much wealth and influence he would need to genuinely become a valuable asset to cultivators.

    As night fell, Henley and his daughters settled in for the night, but Khan lay awake, sleepless, his thoughts refusing to quiet.

    The hunting quota was no challenge for someone with his skills, and the extra income from selling surplus animals would help. But even with that, it wasn¡¯t enough to make him truly valuable to cultivators.

    His mind circled the day¡¯s lessons¡ªsuccess wasn¡¯t just about skill; it was about leverage. And today, he¡¯d taken a small step toward finding it, toward understanding how to gain it. If he could master the network of bargains and alliances necessary to get it, he could do more than just survive¡ªhe could thrive.

    Still, Khan knew it wasn¡¯t enough. If he wanted to stand out in a world that dismissed him, he¡¯d have to do more¡ªsomething extraordinary. The path ahead would be grueling, requiring years of relentless effort, but he was ready to face it.

    Late into the night, Khan finally decided to return indoors. Before settling onto his mat for some much-needed rest, Khan rehearsed the cultivation technique, running through the technique Hoffnung had shared with him, committing every detail to memory. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was a step¡ªone he wasn¡¯t willing to skip.

    Though no groundbreaking ideas came to him that night, Khan knew nights like this¡ªrestless and filled with planning¡ªwould only become more common as he started building his future and accumulating wealth.

    Khan eventually drifted off, grabbing a few hours of rest.

    Henley looked at Khan through the shoddy wooden opening in the wall, thinking back to how the boy had handled himself in the fields. ''If he¡¯s going to make it, he needs a foot in the door.

    ***

    Henley woke up earlier than usual, clearly planning something. He glanced at the slumbering Khan, his expression thoughtful. Today, he had something special in mind, a plan that could potentially open doors for Khan in the bustling maze of the district marketplace.

    First, he had to prepare the girls to stay with Healer Kim, before taking Khan out to meet who he wanted him to.

    Not long after, Khan woke up, the pull of responsibility already tugging on him. Another day of work waited but was ready to face it with determination. To him, each task was another step on a long, uphill climb toward a future filled with promise. He wasn¡¯t about to let any chance, no matter how small, pass him by.

    As the first light of dawn filtered through the trees, Henley glanced at Khan, choosing his words carefully. ¡°You¡¯ve been doing well with the hunting,¡± he said, adjusting the straps on his daughters¡¯ satchels. ¡®But if you want to get anywhere in this city, you¡¯ll need more than skill¡ªyou¡¯ll need connections. I¡¯ve got someone in mind who might be able to help.¡¯

    ¡°Really? When do we meet him?¡± Khan asked, his interest piqued, but a bit confused.

    ¡°Give me a moment,¡± he said, adjusting his stance. ¡°I¡¯ll get the girls settled with Healer Kim. You don¡¯t remember? I told you I would help you out. It¡¯s good to see a kid like you with some ambition.¡±

    The city¡¯s heart was alive with energy as the duo made their way through the crowded market. Stalls overflowed with goods, the scent of fresh bread mingling with the sharper tang of meat. Khan kept pace with Henley, eyes scanning the sea of people. Every vendor had their own story, but Henley had one in mind for him.

    With a friendly smile and a purposeful stride, Henley led Khan toward a well-known figure in the market¡ªa butcher who stood out from the rest. As they approached, Khan couldn¡¯t help but study the man¡¯s unusual appearance.

    The butcher had the build of someone who¡¯d spent years in the trade¡ªbroad shoulders and thick arms, muscles honed from hours of slicing through meat and bone. There was no mistaking the strength in him.

    But what really caught Khan¡¯s attention was the butcher¡¯s facial hair¡ªa perfectly groomed horseshoe mustache that curved up from his lip and spread out to the sides of his mouth. It gave him a mix of charm and eccentricity that was hard to forget.

    Henley, with a touch of pride in his voice, enlightened Khan about the figure before them. "See that big guy with the mustache? That¡¯s Tarig. Don¡¯t let the fancy moustache fool you¡ªTarig means business when it comes to his craft. He''s a master of his trade."

    ¡°¡®There¡¯s our man.¡¯ Henley grinned, slapping Khan¡¯s shoulder when they reached the stall. The butcher, looked up and broke into a grin of his own.

    ¡®Henley, you old dog! Finally decided to show your face again, huh?¡¯ Tarig called out, his voice gruff but warm.

    Henley chuckled. ¡®Had to bring this one to meet you,¡¯ he said, nodding at Khan. ¡®He¡¯s sharp¡ªand more useful than he looks.¡¯

    Tarig gave Khan a once-over, his eyes narrowing as he sized him up. ¡°Henley, you¡¯re bringing me kids now?¡±

    ¡°What? You think I¡¯d bring him here if I wasn¡¯t sure of his skills? Just hear him out.¡±Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°You¡¯re sure he¡¯s useful, huh? Fine. We¡¯ll see about that.¡±

    Tarig eyed Khan for a long moment before picking up one of his bird carcasses. ¡°Alright, kid. Let¡¯s see if you¡¯ve got an eye for quality. What do you think of this one?¡±

    Khan stepped forward, his gaze sharp. ¡°It¡¯s plump, but the feathers are patchy. Probably had a run-in with something before it was caught.¡±

    Tarig squinted at him, his face unreadable. ¡°Henley, I don¡¯t usually deal with kids.¡± He paused, then sighed. ¡°But for you, I¡¯ll see what he¡¯s got.¡±

    ¡°Well, what¡¯ve you got for me, kid? Let¡¯s see it.¡±

    Khan and Henley presented their catch to Tarig, who meticulously examined each animal, checking for quality and condition.

    Khan¡¯s surplus was the result of a good day¡¯s hunting¡ªbetter than most would expect from someone his age. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was enough to start building connections.

    Tarig lifted a bird, turning it over with a practiced eye. ¡°Plump enough,¡± he muttered, tugging at the leg. ''You¡¯re not bad at this, kid. But let¡¯s talk prices¡ªdon¡¯t expect me to go easy just because Henley¡¯s the one who introduced you.

    "It''s a pretty nice catch, my friend. I''ll offer you one copper per bird, a half-copper for each rodent, and 15 coppers for each swine. Additionally, I''ll let you in on a hot tip; you can sell the fox skin to the tanner for 50 bronze. How does that sound?"

    Khan hesitated, unsure of the value. Henley nudged him forward. However, Henley decided to negotiate for better terms himself. "Nice try, Tarig. The birds are worth at least 4 bronze each, and the swine should fetch you 20 if you''re not being stingy."

    Tarig raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. ¡°Four bronze for a bird? You¡¯re dreaming, Henley. Two coppers, take it or leave it.¡±

    Khan¡¯s gaze darted back and forth between them, soaking in the back-and-forth like a lesson in negotiation.

    Henley wasn¡¯t about to let it go. ¡°Three coppers per bird, and 18 for the swine,¡± he said, his voice steady but insistent. ¡°You can¡¯t undercut this kid like that, and let¡¯s not forget the rodents. Half a copper each is a fair price, don¡¯t you think?¡±

    Tarig squinted at the rodents, his lips twitching as he considered. ¡°Fine, three coppers for the birds, and 16 for the swine,¡± he replied. ¡°Rodents, though¡­ they¡¯re small time. One copper for all of them.¡±

    Henley leaned in, a spark of mischief in his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m not giving up that easy. Three coppers for the birds, 18 for the swine, and half a copper per rodent. Take it or leave it.¡±

    They haggled back and forth for a bit longer before a deal was finally struck: 17 coppers per swine, three coppers per bird, and half a copper for each rodent. The exchange ended with a firm handshake, followed by a little good-natured banter as they wrapped things up.

    Got it! Let''s keep the word count roughly the same or greater than your original text, while improving the flow. Here¡¯s a revised version that maintains the pacing but enhances the transition and introspection:

    ---

    Once the deal was concluded, Tarig slapped Khan on the back with a grin. ¡°Let¡¯s get your meat processed and ready for sale by the end of this week. You can leave the fox with me, and we¡¯ll visit the tanner together to get the skin. Consider it a gift from me, something to start you off right.¡±

    Henley gave Khan a nod of approval, the kind of quiet acknowledgment that meant more than words. ¡°Trust him, Khan. Tarig¡¯s a good guy.¡±

    Khan looked up at the butcher, feeling a mix of gratitude and respect for the man¡¯s straightforwardness. ¡°Thanks, Tarig. I appreciate it.¡±

    Tarig waved a hand dismissively, his eyes already on the next customer. ¡°Yeah, yeah. Just don¡¯t waste my time, kid. Now, get out of here. I¡¯ve got work to do.¡±

    With that, Khan and Henley made their way back toward the fields. As they walked, Khan couldn¡¯t help but reflect on the exchange. He had just made a deal that could lead to something bigger, something that went beyond the basics of hunting. It wasn¡¯t just the copper or the swine that mattered¡ªit was the connections. Tarig had trusted him enough to offer advice and support, and that was worth more than any single transaction. Khan didn¡¯t yet know where this path would take him, but he knew it was one worth following.

    Khan readied himself for the work ahead, though his mind still lingered on the conversation with Tarig.

    By the time the day came to a close, Khan had bagged four deer, a decent haul by any measure. However, he didn¡¯t catch any foxes this time, leaving him to wonder if his earlier luck was just that¡ªluck. Still, he¡¯d exceeded his quota, which was no small feat.

    The supervisor arrived shortly after the hunt, to claim his share of the spoils. Two of the deer were taken away, leaving Khan with the remaining animals and his earnings of 10 coppers. It wasn¡¯t a huge sum, but it was enough to keep going for now.

    As the supervisor and his guards eyed the remaining deer, Khan recalled Henley¡¯s advice about making allies, about keeping people close and earning their trust. He¡¯d noticed the envious glances they¡¯d cast at his haul in the past, and now it was time to act.

    Khan sliced the choicest portions of the deer and offered them to the supervisor, his voice steady but respectful. ¡°Here. Take the best cuts.¡±

    The supervisor¡¯s eyes flickered in surprise, but he accepted the gesture without hesitation, a nod of appreciation in his eyes. The guards murmured among themselves, eyeing the meat with a mix of envy and respect. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was a gesture that spoke volumes, a small step toward gaining the trust of those who could either help or hinder him in the future.

    The farmers once again gathered for a communal meal. Khan''s generous acts gradually improved his standing among the local community, and he believed that such goodwill might serve him well in the future. If his reputation continued to grow, opportunities might arise that would enhance his life and further his dreams.

    After the feast, Khan and Henley made their way to Tarig¡¯s butcher shop, the air still thick with the lingering scents of meat and woodsmoke. Khan felt a quiet sense of pride in the day¡¯s work, but his thoughts were already shifting toward the next task at hand. Henley, walking beside him, seemed equally lost in thought, though his pace remained steady.

    When they reached the butcher¡¯s shop, Tarig looked up from behind the counter, his face breaking into a rare smile. ¡°I¡¯m glad you at least listen,¡± he said, eyes appraising the young hunter with a nod of approval.

    Khan wasn¡¯t sure how to respond, so he simply returned the nod. Henley shot him a sideways glance, as though urging him to stay composed.

    Before they could settle into conversation, the door creaked open, and a new figure entered¡ªa tall, wiry man with an air of quiet intensity. Azul, the tanner. His dark skin was an odd contrast to the usual paleness of the people in the area, still lighter than Khan¡¯s, and his narrow, yellow eyes scanned the room with a sharpness that made Khan uneasy.

    ¡°Tarig, my friend,¡± Azul greeted in a voice low and steady. ¡°What have you called me for today?¡±

    Tarig stepped forward with a grin, his tone one of camaraderie. ¡°Azul, I¡¯ve got a couple of hides for you. The boy here came through for me.¡±

    Khan could feel Azul¡¯s gaze lingering on him as the tanner sized him up. Something was unsettling about the way Azul looked at him¡ªnot overtly hostile, but sharp like he was measuring Khan for something Khan couldn¡¯t yet comprehend.

    ¡°Let''s see them then,¡± Azul said, his voice barely rising above a whisper,

    As Tarig unveiled the deer and fox hides, Azul inquired about Khan''s role and skill, intrigued by the young man''s contribution.

    Azul leaned back, folding his wiry arms. ''I don¡¯t take just any hides, you know. Merchants and nobles rely on my work¡ªthey expect perfection. So, what makes yours worth my time?''

    In response to Azul''s question, Khan explained, "I''m a hunter. But when it comes to preparing the hides, I only know how to maximize the meat, not preserve the skin. That''s not my expertise. But I¡¯m an excellent marksman, just take a look at the hides.¡±

    Azul studied Khan with an intense gaze, assessing him like a cat sizing up a new human. Tarig and Henley exchanged a smirk, aware of Khan''s inexperience in bargaining.

    Azul proposed a price for the hides, but Tarig, Henley, and Khan all vocally contested it, believing it to be too low.

    Azul leaned back, crossing his wiry arms as he eyed the hides. ¡°Decent quality. I¡¯ll give you 40 coppers for the fox and 25 for each deer.¡±

    ¡°40 coppers?¡¯ Tarig barked a laugh. ¡°Azul, you¡¯ve been sniffing too much tanning acid. These hides are worth at least 60 for the fox and 35 each for the deer.¡±

    Azul¡¯s yellow eyes glinted, his voice sharpening. ¡°You forget who you¡¯re talking to, butcher. I don¡¯t just sell to farmers; my clients have gold to spend¡ªand standards to match. These hides need work before they¡¯re worth your numbers.¡±

    Khan, sensing an opportunity, stepped forward. ¡°Work you¡¯re the best at, right?¡¯ he said, his tone even. ¡®A merchant¡¯s only as good as his product. What¡¯s 5 coppers more if it gets you a reputation as the best in the city?¡±

    Henley, looked at him, a bit of surprise in his eyes, before quickly turning into a touch of appreciation.

    Azul studied him for a moment before smirking. ¡®55 for the fox, 31 for the deer. Final offer.¡¯

    ¡®Done,¡¯ Khan said before Tarig could protest.¡±

    Amidst heated negotiations, Azul refused to budge, and they finally reached an agreement of 55 coppers for the fox and 31 coppers for each deer hide. Khan learned a few choice words during the process.

    Azul ran his fingers over the fox hide, nodding with approval. ''Fine work. Not many in this market could handle this quality¡ªnot like I can. The merchants from the capital come to me, you know. They want the best. And I don¡¯t settle for less.''

    Tarig also agreed to buy the fox and deer meat from Khan once Azul had completed the skinning process. Though Khan suspected he might have undersold the meat, he recognized that the lessons learned in the marketplace were worth the expense.

    As the deal concluded and the coppers changed hands, Khan couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that today wasn¡¯t just another step¡ªit was a turning point. He had made new business partners, but more importantly, he had made a choice: start building. The path ahead was murky, but it no longer felt impossible."

 Chapter 9

    <h2>Chapter 9</h2>

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry!¡± The baker screamed. Desperately. The 4 men had ganged up on him. They had dragged him out of the bakery he owned. Demanding their money back. Of course the man didn¡¯t have it. If he had that kind of money, he wouldn¡¯t have gotten a loan in the first place.

    Now, he was curled on the ground, hands protecting the back of his neck, as he scrambled on the mushy ground, trying to get away. ¡°I¡¯ll have your money soon, please,¡± he tried to grab onto one of the men¡¯s legs. It smelled like piss and alcohol.

    ¡°Bastard!¡± The gang member kicked him in the side. ¡°It¡¯s been 3 months. You haven¡¯t even made any payments.¡± All this while, the rest of the group, was striking him again and again, using whatever they could find.

    ¡°Do you think we can be played with? Where¡¯s our money, eh?¡±

    ¡°Please¡­ I beg you¡ª¡± The baker¡¯s voice cracked, thick with snot and blood. ¡°Just a bit more time! The taxes, I¡ª¡±

    A fist crashed into his face. Bone crunched. Pain erupted through his skull. He barely had time to gasp before another blow sent him sprawling.

    ¡°You think I care about taxes?¡± The leader sneered. ¡°Do I look like a damned book keeper to you?¡±

    The baker snivelled, going into another round of begging and pleading.

    The men stopped. They were running out of breath. ¡°Fine, we¡¯ll give you time,bu-¡±

    The baker crawled quickly to bow at his feet, filth adorning his body. ¡°Thank you, my lord¡±

    The lead shoved him away with his feet. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare interrupt me again. All that matters is that you owe us!¡±

    The baker, confused, didn¡¯t know whether to apologise again or shutup and look sorry.

    The leader, eager to move on to something else, straightened his robes, then quickly went back to the original topic. ¡°You owe us¨C¡± the baker nodded his head vigorously, ¡°but you haven¡¯t paid, and you are long overdue. We still must have something in return.¡± He looked at his boys. ¡°What could you offer us in the meantime?¡± His men started smirking, the look in their eyes dark.

    The baker, thinking there was an opportunity to negotiate, said, ¡°I..I don¡¯t have anything, or¡­ I would have paid you,¡± he looked around, noticing the darker looks on their faces, ¡°but I could deliver you fresh bread every morning¨Cno morning and night, till I pay you back.¡±

    The leader smiled, genuinely, taking a look at his group, ¡°How does that sound men?¡±

    They all shook their heads, ¡°Boss, he already owes us, and now he wants to give us something we should be getting for free anyways? I don¡¯t think he¡¯s being sincere.¡±

    ¡°Eh, you¡¯re right.¡± An approving smile and knowing wink later, he said, ¡°What do you think we should do then?¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± the lackey put a finger on his chin, pretending to think. ¡°I hear he¡¯s got a well endowed wife¡­ maybe she could pay us company for the night.¡±

    The baker, cold, realization dawning on his features. ¡°No¡­¡± He backed away, then turned towards the bakery, where his wife was watching, peeking through the window. ¡°Go, leave!¡±

    ¡°Now, what¡¯s this? You don¡¯t want to pay?¡±

    His wife started to run at the lead members taunting, before tripping over a table covered in flour and dough.

    ¡°Men!¡± They quickly went over to fetch the scared woman.

    ¡°Please, I¡¯m with child, please!¡±

    The crowd outside the bakery fell silent. A few passersby stole a glance but quickly turned away, pretending to be busy looking at nothing or chatting about the weather as they quickly walked away, almost breaking into a run. One man opened his mouth as if to speak, then hesitated, lowering his gaze.

    The debt collector-the talkative one, stepped inside, his boots thudding against the wooden floor. The baker¡¯s wife froze. Her hands trembled as she clutched the edge of the counter, her knuckles turning white, refusing to budge.

    ¡°Hahaha. We¡¯ve got a fierce one boss.

    ¡°No¡ªplease¡ª¡± Her voice barely rose above a whisper before rough fingers closed around her wrist. She jerked back, but the grip tightened, dragging her onto the street.

    The lead member, knelt down next to the baker, ¡°We¡¯ll bring her back tomorrow, eh?¡± He patted him on his shoulder reassuringly.

    ***

    Far from the bustling streets of the city, where the baker¡¯s cries echoed into the night, another story unfolded in the quiet hills of the Awoken Moon Sect.

    It had been two days since Hoffnung joined the sect, and already, the dream he¡¯d nurtured for years was crumbling.

    On the first day, he¡¯d caught the eye of Elder Sun, the Tomes and Facilities elder¡ªthough ¡°caught the eye¡± was a generous term.

    No one else had been willing to take him, despite his talent. Elder Sun, the weakest of the inner sect elders, was responsible for the most mundane tomes: histories, zoology, and the rambling diaries of long-dead cultivators.

    He wasn¡¯t even trusted with the cultivation manuals.

    Elder Sun had only accepted Hoffnung because sect rules forced him to. As the youngest and weakest inner sect elder at 150 years old, he was still struggling to advance his own cultivation.

    Their sole conversation had been brief, held 4 months after he had been accepted into the sect, and only because Elder Sun emerged from closed-door cultivation to heed the sect leader¡¯s summons.

    ¡°Power isn¡¯t everything, boy,¡± Elder Sun had said, stroking his beard. His fingers traced the faded embroidery of the sect¡¯s insignia on his robe. ¡°Focus on cultivation and training. Success will come in time.¡±

    Hoffnung had barely stifled a scoff. ¡®Easy words from a man who¡¯d spent a century achieving nothing¡¯. Power wasn¡¯t everything? That was easy to say when no one in this rotting sect had any.

    They clung to outdated techniques, convinced their ancestors¡¯ wisdom was enough¡ªyet time after time, stronger sects dismissed them while theirs sat back and did nothing.

    Even Elder Sun, with over a century of cultivation, was barely stronger than some of the core disciples.

    Hoffnung clenched his fists. If he stayed here, he¡¯d wither with them.

    To make matters worse, there was Hung Liu. The noble¡¯s great-grandfather was one of the sect¡¯s head elders, and Hung Liu wielded that influence like a weapon.

    Hoffnung watched from behind a thick column as the boy strutted past, the faint glimmer of a stolen jade pendant hanging from his belt. That was Liang¡¯s¡ªHoffnung had seen it in the boy¡¯s hands just yesterday. But no one would speak up. They never did.

    The last disciple who accused Hung Liu of theft had ¡°accidentally¡± fallen off the training platform and shattered his leg. The elders had called it misfortune. Hung Liu had only smiled.

    Hoffnung¡¯s jaw tightened. He was at the peak of the second stage of the Mortal Refinement Realm, while Hung Liu had already reached the third. The gap wasn¡¯t insurmountable, but Hung Liu made sure Hoffnung never had the resources to close it.

    Precious herbs were swapped for fakes. Training sessions were sabotaged. And the chores¡ªcleaning latrines, tending to dangerous beasts¡ªwere designed to waste his time and energy.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    The elders didn¡¯t care. In this sect, power and face were all that mattered. Fairness was a luxury they couldn¡¯t afford.

    Hoffnung exhaled slowly, his breath fogging in the cold morning air. He¡¯d dreamed of the Awoken Moon Sect as a place of opportunity, a stepping stone to greatness. Instead, it was a cage.

    But he wasn¡¯t ready to give up.

    If he worked hard enough, if he proved his talent, maybe he could escape to a better sect. Until then, he¡¯d endure. He had no other choice.

    ***

    Over the past four months, Khan had settled into the rhythm of city life, splitting his days between the farm, hunting, and helping Henley¡¯s family. Each day felt the same, yet it was a necessary grind.

    He was gradually building up the network and saving funds to reach cultivators. It was a long way off, but progress was progress."

    He had been training using the plan Hoffnung had given him, and with all the extra money he had gotten over the past few months, he had started to build more muscle.

    As someone who had to hunt and provide for his father since he was young, he had always been lean, even if he was on the shorter side¨Cthere wasn¡¯t a lot of good game near his village, but now, he looked far better, his clothes getting tighter and his face getting rid of most of his face fat.

    He had even grown a few inches and now was just a little bit below the average height in the district, which wasn¡¯t saying a lot as they were all malnourished.

    Today marked one of the rare holidays for the peasants¡ªSunday, the final day of the week and a half-day of work.

    Today, workers could enjoy the rest of the day off. This, of course, didn¡¯t mean that you could slack off on your work.

    If you didn''t meet your quota, or the required amount of work to be done for the day, you would be forced to stay back and work.

    Regardless, Khan would still meet his quota, he had turned it into a sort of challenge for himself. If he wasn¡¯t able to properly exercise, then he would at least keep his skills in peak condition.

    Plus, hunting was one of the skills taught to him by his father, there was no way he was going to let himself get rusty.

    After a hotter-than-normal day at the farm, Henley and Khan had their weekly barbecue.

    Nowadays, after the commoners had gotten used to the idea of Khan and Henley grilling meat every day, they always came after the day was over to ¡®help out¡¯.

    The wives and children all came out with pots and pans- whatever they could find- to get a piece of the grilling meat. Of course, Khan didn¡¯t mind, this was all beneficial to him. It would allow him to build a good reputation with the locals.

    But he would not get attached. He would never get attached. Not after his own villagers had decided to abandon him when he needed them the most. Even after all he and his father had done for them.

    Those memories left a bitter taste in his mouth, one that always resurfaced when he saw the villagers bickering over meat. The first time the village wives had come, there was a quarrel between them and the farmers.

    They argued fiercely, the wives demanding extra portions with the excuse that they had starving children at home.

    The farmers countered with the fact that they were the ones who helped grill the meat Khan had caught.

    The supervisor had gotten angry at how much of a racket they were all making and took it out on Khan, his face turning red and a vein appearing on his forehead, he made sure to remind him of their deal and how Khan was supposed to keep it down and not bother him.

    Khan eventually settled it by letting the farmers have the first cuts of meat, and then whoever came after them was on a first come first served basis.

    The wives were still grumbling but, there were no more large arguments after that. Especially since some of the wives were married to some of the farmers.

    The barbecue wrapped up as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the fields. Henley and Khan decided to take the girls into the city for treats, a rare chance to relax. But first, they stopped by the butcher, Tarig.

    Henley had the girls get dressed up and throw on large scarves to cover their heads¡ªjust enough to keep people from seeing their faces too much in the crowded streets.

    Of course, they would avoid the more wealthy areas where the nobles lived.

    Once they were ready, the four of them headed out with Khan tagging along, the girls waddling in front like excited ducklings. By now, he¡¯d become a bit like a standoffish older brother¡ªaround enough to help, but always keeping a quiet distance.

    The girls hummed a tune, something they¡¯d taken too as they played, their voices light and carefree. Khan recognized it immediately¡ªa song from his village, one he¡¯d taught them without thinking. He stiffened. A flash of the past ran through his mind. Souring the moment.

    He clenched his jaw and turned away, his resolve hardening: attachment wasn¡¯t worth the pain.

    One of the girls, the oldest, squealed in delight when she saw a lumicit, it was an exotic fruit found only between the last few months of the year, when the lumicit ripened and was suitable to be eaten.

    The lumicit, a fruit the size of a man¡¯s fist, glowed with fiery orange skin and a faint golden shimmer as if lit from within.

    The lumicit¡¯s fiery orange skin glowed under the sun, its golden gradient giving it an almost magical allure. Rumored to promote children¡¯s growth, the fruit was a rare treat harvested from well-hidden groves guarded fiercely by beasts.

    Even now, as the oldest screamed excitedly and pulled her sister along to beg her dad for the fruit, a couple of other people, mostly middle-aged ladies with children holding their hands or being carried on their backs saw the fruit and started power walking towards them.

    The sisters reached their dad and hit him with the cutest puppy dog eyes they could muster, and lobbied their dad to buy them the fruit.

    Henley didn¡¯t last a second under their pressure and walked over to get them the fruit.

    ¡°Mornin¡¯. How much for the lumicit?¡±

    ¡°Five coppers,¡± the vendor replied, crossing his arms.

    ¡°Five? They¡¯re in season!¡± Henley protested.

    ¡°Geese are migrating,¡± the man said with a shrug. ¡°They¡¯re taking most of the fruit for their young and prices went up. And it¡¯s no easy task harvesting these¡ªyou have to go through hidden groves, angry mama geese... You want it or not?¡±

    ¡°Fine, let me get one.¡±  He turned to his daughters, ¡°You¡¯ll have to share okay?¡±

    Khan stepped up, ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Uncle Henley, I¡¯ve got it.¡±

    ¡°No, you do enough already¡ªmeat, chores, everything. I can¡¯t let you spend more.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re like my sisters now. It¡¯s no trouble.¡±

    Henley looked at Khan¨C a mix of pride and disbelief. Khan was just a little boy he had decided to help out one day and now not only was he offering to buy the lumicit for them he had been helping Henley around the farm anytime he was waiting for an animal to fall into one of his traps and he wasn¡¯t actively hunting. He even gave them some of the grilled meat from his catch.

    The girls, once far more frail and quiet, now laughed and played with a vigor he hadn¡¯t seen in years. Even his own burdens felt lighter with Khan¡¯s help. ¡®He could¡¯ve left by now¡¯, Henley thought. ¡®Made a life for himself¡¯.

    But Khan stayed, sharing his hunts, his time, and even his coins. Henley didn¡¯t know what drove the boy¡ªwhether it was obligation or something deeper¡ªbut he was grateful all the same.

    When he first came, Henley was struggling to pay for food for a family of four, the girls were all skin and bones and His only son barely ate and gave all his wages to his dad so he could get food for the girls. Henley couldn¡¯t believe how much had changed since Khan arrived.

    Henley watched as Khan handed the fruit to the girls, their faces lighting up like lanterns. The boy could¡¯ve left long ago¡ªhe¡¯d made enough money to stand on his own. Yet here he was, grilling meat for the community and sharing the bounty of his hunts. Henley didn¡¯t need to ask why; the quiet determination in Khan¡¯s eyes said it all.

    Khan watched as the girls devoured the lumicit, their laughter filling the air. Khan¡¯s lips curved into a smile as the girls laughed, but it didn¡¯t reach his eyes. He shoved the warmth aside¡ªthese people were kind, but kindness had limits.

    He¡¯d learned that the hard way. Still, as he handed the fruit to the girls, he felt a flicker of something he hadn¡¯t known in months¡ªbelonging.

    ¡°Thank you, kid.¡±

    Khan nodded his head at him then proceeded to buy four of the fruits. Not even a second later, about 4 women came with their children in line behind them and started buying the fruits, a little bit later even more people came to buy the fruits. It had turned into a bidding war!

    Khan and Henley quickly left the spot and walked towards a more quiet area before they started eating the fruits. Khan offered one to Henley but he rejected it with the excuse that he was growing and that I needed it more than he did.

    The girls ate first, quickly biting into the lumicit, they were immediately greeted with a radiant and juicy core.

    Then Khan took a bite of his own. The flesh is a vivid, translucent amber, reminiscent of molten sunlight. The fruit''s segments are tender, bursting with a sweet and tangy flavor that evokes the essence of a summer sunset.

    The aroma that wafts from a freshly sliced Firestone Orange was both invigorating and soothing, like the scent of a distant bonfire.

    Khan quickly finished it as he had never had anything like it. He would have taken a bit of the other one Henley had rejected if he didn¡¯t see the pleading look on the sister¡¯s faces that were directed at him. He gave in quicker than Henley and let them have the fruit.

    After they were done with the fruit, they continued shopping for groceries. Footed by Khan, Henley tried to reject but Khan just said that he could pay him back by relieving him of the house chores for the next week.

    Henley accepted.

    On their way home, Khan bought some more fruits for the girls before they stopped by the butcher tarig to get some smoked rat meat.

    With all their groceries, they wouldn''t have to buy anything for another month at least.

    It was very late by the time they got back, and both Henley and Khan had to sleep so they would be ready for work tomorrow. But, the sisters refused to sleep without listening to Khan¡¯s lullaby.

    Neither Khan nor Henley believed it since they were wobbling around trying to run from the bed with their eyes almost completely shut.

    Khan sang anyway, his voice becoming a tone deeper, ebbing and flowing like the full moon above them:

    "In the shadow of night, where dreams take flight,

    Beneath the moon''s gentle glow,

    Close your eyes, my precious light,

    A hero guards where the wild winds blow.

    Hush, my dear, the beast won¡¯t find,

    The hero¡¯s blade cuts through the dark,

    Dreams are safe, leave fear behind,

    Slumber now, the night grows stark..."

    ***

    The girl¡¯s eyelids fluttered, the melody pulling them into dreams like the moon¡¯s gentle tide. Khan¡¯s voice softened with each verse, his gaze lingering on the peaceful faces of his newfound family. Far in the distance, the mournful howl of wolves pierced the night, but here, under the thatched roof, the world was quiet and safe.

    Far away, a pack of wolves howled in the night.

    Khan stared at the sleeping girls, their faces peaceful in the moonlight. For a moment, he allowed himself to feel it¡ªthe warmth of belonging. But then his jaw tightened. He couldn¡¯t stay here, he was getting too comfortable.. Tomorrow, he¡¯d make sure to work harder, mortals only lived so long and he couldn¡¯t afford to waste his time.

 Chapter 10

    <h2>Chapter 10</h2>

    Quietly, I sat at the bench of the mud house I currently stayed in with Henley and his family.

    I used a twig to etch numbers into the damp sand, the rain having just stopped. The air was thick with the earthy scent of wet ground, and the usual hum of insects was absent.

    I calculated my earnings from the last four months. In these parts, most peasants couldn¡¯t read or write, but I had no intention of staying in the mud forever. If scratching numbers into the dirt could get me ahead, I¡¯d carve the whole town square if I had to." So, I paid Healer Kim¡ªone of the few literate souls in this part of the city¡ªto teach me the basics. She¡¯d even shared the bits of arithmetic she knew with me."

    "It was strange, how quickly time had passed. The once-overwhelming city was now familiar, and my progress¡ªthough slow¡ªwas unmistakable.

    In just four months, I¡¯d earned nearly 28,000 coppers¡ªalmost as much as a farmer¡¯s annual income of 35,000 to 40,000 coppers. The realization brought a rare smile to my face. From starting with nothing but a knife and sheer luck, this progress was nothing short of remarkable.

    I¡¯d earned nearly the same amount in just a quarter of the time¡ª280 silvers in total! This didn¡¯t account for the things that I had paid for out of that money, like paying for Healer Kim to teach me to read and write, getting a better outfit, buying little snacks for the girls, and paying Henley rent.

    Yes, rent! I, Khan the Blood Conqueror, was paying an ordinary mortal for a roof over my head. At least I no longer had to do the chores I used to¡ªthough that would change once I found better lodging."

    Considering all the expenses I had, there was only 200 silver left. "I set aside 150 silver for savings. The rest of it¡ªwhat I could afford to spend¡ªwent into a small wooden chest with a sturdy lock, the kind that would keep prying eyes away. After all, I couldn''t afford to take any chances with my hard-earned coins."

    That left me with just fifty silvers for discretionary spending.

    <hr>

    Khan remained eager to invest his wealth wisely, with the aim of multiplying his silver further.

    Today, I planned to meet with a blacksmith in need of funds to purchase more iron ingots for his trade. He was introduced by one of the farmers who frequented them. It seemed that offering free meals to the farmers and commoners who visited daily had been a smart move.

    The meeting with the blacksmith was scheduled late in the afternoon today, Khan would have to leave the barbecuing and grilling of his catch to the farmers.

    <hr>

    Excitement stirred in me as I approached the smithy, though I worked to lower my expectations. I focused on the task ahead, exchanging polite nods and greetings with the workers along the way. This was the kind of opportunity I¡¯d been hoping for¡ªone that could make all my efforts in the last four months worthwhile. I would do my best to make the most of it.

    The smithy stood at the heart of town, its rhythmic clang of hammers a steady pulse that bound the fragile community together beneath the Awoken Moon sect¡¯s shadow."

    It was situated near the central square, making it easily accessible to local residents. The blacksmith''s workshop exuded an atmosphere of tradition, craftsmanship, and history.

    The closer I drew, the more details of the smithy came into focus. Nestled near the town¡¯s central square, it was a rugged structure of timber and stone. The clang of hammers and the faint tang of burning metal filled the air as I neared.

    I approached the entrance of the smithy and reached the massive wooden door designed for moving raw materials and finished goods.

    It even had an ironwork display hanging above the entrance. It was a big black hammer banging against an anvil. Not even a few months ago, my jaw would have dropped to the floor at the little intricacies and quirks needed to make the ironwork. I could tell that it needed a lot of skill to be made like that

    The heavy wooden door resisted as I pushed, but my growing strength over the past months made the effort manageable. All the exercises I¡¯d been doing were clearly paying off.

    Big Randy was a mountain of a man in a compact frame, his soot-streaked skin glinting like tempered steel. White hair clung to the sides of his balding head, defying age with the energy of a seasoned craftsman. His every move echoed decades spent forging both iron and character.

    The old bald man turned around with the creaking of the door to see me standing there looking at him.

    He walked over and said, ¡°You must be the lad Ronny told me about. You here to help get me some iron?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I came to find out sir.¡±

    ¡°Ha! Hes already started feeling me out.¡± He shouted, although this time, to no one in particular. "Alright, kid, back here. Name¡¯s Big Randy. You¡¯re the one they call Khan?"

    Big Randy kept talking to me as he led me to the back of the shop. When we finally got there, there was an old woman cutting some pieces out of cloth and an equally old but fat man looking at the diagram of a longsword.

    Big Randy introduced them one by one, That¡¯s Michelle, my wife. And Igor¡¯s the brains behind the hammer." Randy grinned. "Now, let¡¯s get to business. Igor nodded curtly, while Big Randy¡¯s wife offered a warm, grandmotherly smile as she set down a tray of tea and biscuits.

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    Her smile was warm, like a grandmother welcoming family home. It surprised me how such a simple gesture could stir something inside me. For a moment, I felt like I¡¯d stepped into a place that truly cared for its guests.

    Big Randy led me to a sturdy, well-worn table where he gestured for me to sit. The chairs, though simple, were surprisingly comfortable¡ªlikely a luxury for someone who spent most of his time surrounded by steel and fire.

    ¡°Alright, kid, here¡¯s the deal. I¡¯ve been at this for fifty years, not counting my apprentice days. Got word the Awoken Moon sect is gearing up for a big order¡ªiron, talismans, training equipment, the works.¡± Obviously, for a place like the awoken moon sect, their demand will be incredibly high, we will barely be able to handle 5 percent, even with your investment. But, since it''s such a large order, we still stand to make a lot of money.¡±

    My ears immediately perked up, this was a chance to find out more about the sect and I wasn¡¯t about to let it go by, ¡°Why mundane materials like iron, isn''t it a cultivation sect? I thought they would use exotic materials that can¡¯t be found in the mortal world.¡±

    Igor chuckled as the blacksmith spoke. ''If they wanted rare materials, do you think we¡¯d be the ones supplying them? Be glad you¡¯re young, or I¡¯d have kicked you out for that kind of ignorance. The sect can¡¯t rely solely on exotic resources like flying swords or enchanted carriages¡ªit¡¯s too costly, even for the Awoken Moon sect.'' Also, kid, don¡¯t go thinking every sect member gets a flying sword or glowing armor. Most of them start with basic iron gear¡ªjust enough ¡®energy¡¯ to look impressive. It¡¯s for the newer cultivators, nothing more. That¡¯s where we come in.. Did you really think that it was the actual powerful cultivators who would be using this?¡±

    I honestly didn''t know, for me back then, every cultivator was powerful.

    After thinking on it for a while, I finally thought of something, ¡°Well then how do you know they¡¯ll buy from you instead of somebody else?¡±

    ¡°Good question, kid. I know a couple of spirit forge apprentices in the sect¡ªthey tipped me off. I double-checked with others before bringing this to you. Worst-case? The sect doesn¡¯t bite. But iron¡¯s always in demand. The city, merchants¡ªthere¡¯s no shortage of buyers."

    ¡°Hmm, that seems like a good idea. Alright, how much do you need and when do you need it?¡±

    ¡°We need 300 silver in total in addition to our own money which is 100 silver. The more you add, the higher your percent of the profits of course. If you''re feeling generous you can even add more than 300.¡± The old blacksmith laughed, and the rest of the people behind him exploded into laughter along with him. Igor a low rumbling, and the old lady, a light beautiful sound that should have come from the beak of a melody bird.

    At some point during our conversation, she must have slipped away, for now she returned, moving slowly behind the blacksmith with a tray of tea and biscuits cradled in her mitted hands. ¡°Here you go boys, be careful though, its hot.¡±

    I quickly thanked her, but as I sipped the tea, my thoughts wandered back to the deal at hand. This was just a brief respite before the real business began."

    ¡°The old blacksmith continued, ¡° The latest we need the money for is 3 months from now. How much do you think you''ll be able to contribute?¡±

    Khan thought carefully through the pros and cons. ¡®It¡¯s risky, but the blacksmith doesn¡¯t seem like a scammer¡ªhis shop, apprentices, and reputation speak for themselves. And scamming a sect? That¡¯d be suicide. "This was the best opportunity I¡¯d had in months, but was it worth the risk? One misstep, and I¡¯d be back to nothing¡ªor worse. But what choice did I have? Playing it safe had never gotten anyone anywhere, least of all me. If I wanted to rise, I had to gamble." with how things are going in the city so far, I don''t think opportunities like this are a regular occurrence. Stuff like this probably doesn''t happen often. I am not able to afford to wait however long it may take for another chance like this to come by. Maybe I might be too old to cultivate to any meaningful degree by then. That''s even if I get the chance. I promised myself and my dad that I would become something. I chose to become a cultivator. This was the best opportunity I¡¯d had in months. Rejecting it might mean rejecting my future. Playing it safe had never gotten anyone anywhere, least of all me. If I wanted to rise, I had to take the gamble. "Even if this deal didn¡¯t pan out, the connection alone would be invaluable. I couldn¡¯t let this opportunity slip away¡ªnot when it might be the doorway to my future."

    The blacksmith¡¯s words were direct, and I could hear the underlying promise of a lucrative deal beneath his casual tone. But even as I smiled and accepted his offer, I couldn¡¯t ignore the weight of what was at stake." Even if the Awoken Moon sect didn¡¯t pan out, iron would always be in demand. My mind worked through the possibilities¡ªthis was a rare opportunity.

    ¡°I¡¯ll give you 100 silver upfront and another installment at the end of each month for the next three months. That should cover my share.¡±

    Khan did this to allow for any hidden expenses he might have in his daily life. He didn''t expect his hunting to go well all the time.

    The blacksmith''s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He¡¯d heard rumors¡ªmostly from his wife, the town¡¯s chief gossip¡ªthat Khan was earning well. Still, he hadn¡¯t expected the boy to have more than 20 silvers to his name. He had heard about how much money Khan was making, especially since the town had a lot of gossip mongers, namely his wife, and he never expected Khan to have that much money.

    He immediately agreed, ¡°Deal. When can I expect the 100 silver.¡±

    ¡°I can bring it later today.¡±

    "Alright, would you like a tour of my shop before you leave? She''s the most beautiful thing you''ll ever see." His wife''s expression soured at his comment, but I politely declined, explaining that I''d prefer to take the tour later, once I had the money in hand to pay him.

    As I left the smithy, silver jingling in my pouch, a weight settled on my shoulders. This wasn¡¯t just an investment¡ªit was a promise to myself. If I failed here, I¡¯d have no one to blame but me. Failure wasn¡¯t an option.

    As the meeting concluded, Big Randy rose from his seat, ¡®Alright, let me see you off then.¡¯ I shook his hand firmly, knowing that this was more than just a business deal. It was an opportunity¡ªone that could change everything. I just hoped I wasn¡¯t making a mistake.

    His wife promptly joined, carrying an even larger tray filled with piping hot biscuits. I took one, but my mind was already turning over the details of the deal. A few warm biscuits wouldn¡¯t calm the tingly feelings in my gut.". "I noticed you loved the first batch, so I''ve prepared a couple more for your journey home."

    "Thank you, ma''am."

    "If you''re truly grateful, promise me you''ll share your thoughts on them when you return, alright?"

    "Of course, ma''am."

    I left the smithy with a mix of excitement and uncertainty swirling in my mind. I had the money, but was this the right move? It felt like a gamble, but I couldn¡¯t shake the sense that this could be the break I¡¯d been waiting for.¡±

    I took the cookies with me, and later returned with the money.

    Little did I know, this seemingly simple choice would shape my future in ways I would never have hoped to imagine.

    <h2>

    </h2>

 Chapter 11

    <h2>Chapter 11</h2>

    Yesterday, I wasn''t able to get a tour of the smithy. Big Randy said it was ¡°too dark to see it in all its glory,¡± which sounded more like an excuse than a reason.

    So, today I was here at his place again to take the tour. He came outside with his wife to meet me.

    Big Randy seemed in better spirits than yesterday, when he was yelling at some poor apprentice, and his wife walked by his side with a radiant smile on her face. By the time she had arrived, I could already see the assortment of sandwiches on the tray she had with her.

    As they approached, the aroma of freshly made sandwiches filled the air, making my stomach grumble despite myself. Granny Michelle¡¯s voice was warm but laced with the pushy authority of someone who wouldn¡¯t take no for an answer.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got to try these, young man,¡± she said, thrusting the tray at me like a challenge. She pointed to one of the sandwiches. ¡°This one¡¯s open-faced¡ªmeat, cheese, veggies. Perfect balance. Go on, take a bite.¡±

    Her tone left no room for refusal, her sharp eyes ready to measure every bite I took.

    I took a bite, and it was good¡ªsimple, but good. Then she gestured to another. ¡°These are sops, but I¡¯ve added my twist.¡± The bread was soaked in Tari Tari sauce, a tangy concoction made from the Tari Tari fruit. It was rich, savory, and just a little sweet.

    I proceeded to take a bite out of each of them and then finish them all. From the look on Granny Michelle¡¯s face, I didn''t think she would let me leave till I had eaten them all.

    ¡°Come, Khan,¡± Big Randy said, puffing out his chest like a rooster. His grin was so wide it looked like it might split his face in two. ¡°You¡¯re about to step into the masterpiece of my life.¡±

    He continued to walk forward and I followed him with Granny Michelle beside me, still offering me more food. I politely declined, but she wasn¡¯t listening. Her ears were just for show, apparently. It went in one ear and out the other.

    Big Randy pointed proudly to the forge, its fiery heart glowing like a star and radiating heat that made the air shimmer.

    Big Randy pointed to it with pride. ¡°Most folks use coal or charcoal, but not me. I¡¯ve got astralember. You feel that heat? That¡¯s not normal fire, my boy.¡± He looked at me like a proud parent, with expectant, big, puppy dog eyes, waiting for me to gush over his genius. I nodded, I was even starting to sweat a bit, he beamed once he saw my expression.

    His eyes liting up in approval before he went on again, ¡°See that there?¡± Big Randy pointed at a contraption with more pride than a father showing off his firstborn. ¡°That¡¯s no ordinary bellow. Made it myself¡ªsucks in air like a starving beast. Keeps the heat steady without me lifting a finger. Ain¡¯t another like it for miles.¡±

    The place was a mess of tools, half-finished projects, and raw materials. Hammers, tongs, and other tools were neatly arranged within easy reach of the blacksmith or any apprentices that might need them

    But the rest of the workshop looked like a tornado had blown through.

    Next to the forge, was a water trough, filled with oil to cool down hot metal quickly.

    Shelves, racks, and storage bins were scattered throughout the workshop, holding various tools, supplies, and raw materials like metal bars and ingots.

    There was a designated area for storing coal or fuel near the forge to keep the fire going but instead, I saw astral-embers, a mystical substance that, when burned, releases potent, ethereal energies in very little quantities to provide heat, light, and power. Big Randy caught me staring and beamed even more, I was scared that there wouldn''t be enough space for his eyes and nose at that rate.

    The walls were covered in his handiwork¡ªironwork so intricate it looked like it belonged in a palace, not a smithy. He showed me each piece, explaining how much skill and effort went into making them.

    He didn¡¯t outright say he was a genius, though from his demeanor, I could see that was only because he  wanted me to call him that.

    The workshop was littered with works in progress ¨C partially forged pieces, prototypes, and artistic creations in various stages of completion.

    I don¡¯t know how long I stayed there, listening to the man ramble on about his greatness. The forge roared in the background, its flames fierce and unyielding, a stark contrast to the dull ache in my chest. Once, I¡¯d burned like that¡ªdriven by cultivation dreams that now felt like ash. Dreams I was trying desperately to keep alive.

    As I left the smithy, the warmth of Big Randy''s pride and Granny Michelle''s kindness faded like the cooling forge. In its place was the familiar weight of disappointment, a quiet reminder of how far I still was from my dreams.

    For some reason, I couldn¡¯t see this place as home, no matter how close I got to Henley. I wasn¡¯t family, and the girls¡ª ¡ªwere growing up. They¡¯d need their privacy soon. It wouldn¡¯t be long before I¡¯d have to move on. But for now, I wanted to show Henley how much I appreciated him and his family. They¡¯d taken me in, given me a place to stay, and for that, I was grateful.

    However, ever since leaving the village, an emptiness had taken root within me, growing deeper with each passing day..

    Even though he was the one who left his village, and despite it being them who had thrown the cold shoulder to him, he couldn''t get rid of this nagging feeling that he had nobody he could truly say loved him. Hoffley and his family were there but, he had known them for only a few months, to say that he felt like family around them would be a lie.

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    Khan had never been able to get close to someone that quickly. It was safer that way¡ªsafer to leave when the time came, which was one of the reasons why he was able to leave his village.

    As he walked through the landscape of the city, his hands hung limp at his sides, his face downcast. The contrast between him and the villagers was ever more apparent to him.

    The villagers moved with an easy joy, their laughter weaving through the air like birdsong. Beneath the old tree at the square, they gathered to share stories, their faces glowing with a warmth.

    Khan watched from the shadow of a crumbling house, his arms wrapped around his knees. Their warmth only deepened the chill in his chest.

    Even when he was at his village, he had never had a moment like that, maybe he had never been as close to the villagers as he thought

    In stark contrast to the joyous and vibrant village, there was a lone figure sitting on the steps of a small, weathered house, a heavy cloud of sorrow enveloping him. This man, Khan, wore an expression etched with disappointment and melancholy. His dreams of getting accepted into the sect had been shattered, and after making a vow to his father to make himself into a somebody and become a cultivator, here he was, still a nobody, facing the realities of life, leaving him adrift in a sea of despair.

    Regardless of the steps forward he had taken, he felt like a snail, when he was supposed to be moving as fast as a hawk.

    The acceptance of Hoffnung into the sect still stung even if he tried to be happy for him.

    As Khan sat on the steps, a disheveled plank, covered with moss  lay beside him.

    The once-familiar sounds of children playing and elders sharing stories blurred out, replaced by an eerie silence that mirrored Khan¡¯s internal struggle.

    As the sun set in the distance, its warm glow failed to pierce through the gloom that hung over Khan.

    In the village, the gnarled tree stood as a symbol of interconnectedness and enduring happiness. In Khan¡¯s world, there was no such communal gathering place.

    Khan¡¯s thoughts turned to his father, he remembered him every day, a good man who¡¯d been forgotten the day he died. He saw his father¡¯s face in the men around him, their smiles and laughter masking the same resignation he¡¯d seen in his father¡¯s eyes. They were content to live under the thumb of nobles and cultivators, never daring to dream of more, like dirty, stopped-up wells.

    Such a life! If one of them even sneezed around a high enough ranking noble they may have their head to pay.

    The thought made Khan¡¯s stomach churn. Was this his fate too? To live a life of quiet desperation, never daring to reach for something greater?

    Khan couldn''t stand it! They were like birds-parasitic birds- that never learned how to fly, eternally grounded, feasting greedily on the prey regurgitated from their mother¡¯s beak. It was disgusting. And he was going to be just like them? The very thought made him shiver.

    Was he destined for such a loathsome existence?

    His eyes fell on a lilac rose, its petals battered but unyielding. It clung to life with a defiance that stirred something in him. His jaw tightened. If the rose could endure, so could he. ¡°Not yet,¡± he muttered. ¡°I may not be a cultivator, but I''ve barely even tried yet, I won''t live out the rest of my life knowing I quit when I could have gotten what I wanted¡±

    His fists tightened. ¡°No,¡± he muttered, the word tasting like steel on his tongue. He wouldn¡¯t bow. Not to these circumstances. Not to failure.

    "Impossible," Khan whispered to himself, the determination welling up within him like a storm on the horizon.

    The pain of that realization had nearly been too much for him to bear, but now it transformed into a fiery resolve. If the world had closed one door, Khan vowed to kick it open with the strength of a thousand storms. He may not be a cultivator, and he might not have the privilege of a noble''s birthright, but he could still carve out his destiny as a powerful merchant¡ªa force to be reckoned with in a world dominated by  the power of cultivation.

    His eyes gleamed with a hard, flinty determination, reflecting not just the flickering light of the village''s bonfire but the fire that had begun to burn anew in his chest. It wasn¡¯t the wild, untamed blaze of his youth¡ªthis was something colder, sharper, forged in the crucible of failure and tempered by the weight of his broken promises. Khan clenched his fists, the calluses on his palms rough against his skin, and made a silent vow. He wouldn¡¯t just be a merchant. No, he¡¯d be a force¡ªa merchant who commanded respect, whose name would ripple through the halls of power like a storm.

    If he couldn''t have qi right now, then he would have wealth. He¡¯d carve his own path, one paved with gold and ambition.

    The thought was audacious, almost laughable, but it clung to him like a second skin. He could see it now¡ªthe sprawling trade routes, the caravans laden with goods, the whispers of his name in markets and courts alike. Wealth was power, and power was freedom.

    He¡¯d build an empire so vast that even cultivators would bow¡ªnot to his qi, but to the weight of his gold and the sharp edge of his ambition.

    Rising from the moss-covered steps, Khan picked up the worn plank of wood he¡¯d been sitting on. It was damp and splintered, a relic of neglect, much like the dreams he¡¯d carried from his village. He turned it over in his hands, feeling the rough grain against his fingers, then tossed it aside with a grunt. It landed in the dirt with a dull thud, and he felt a strange satisfaction in the act. He wouldn¡¯t be weighed down by the remnants of his past¡ªnot by this plank, not by his failures, not by the expectations of a world that had already written him off.

    The air was thick with the scent of earth and the faint tang of smoke from the village hearths. Somewhere in the distance, a child laughed, the sound bright and carefree. Khan¡¯s jaw tightened. He wasn¡¯t like them¡ªcontent to live small, to laugh and dream within the confines of their narrow lives. He¡¯d been born with nothing, but he¡¯d be damned if he died with nothing.

    His father¡¯s face flashed in his mind, worn and weary, yet still proud during his drunken moments. "A tiger does not father a dog," the old man had said, his voice rasping but firm, "but this old dog wants to father a tiger." The words had stung at the time, a mix of pride and self-deprecation that Khan hadn¡¯t fully understood.

    Now, they burned in his chest like a brand. His father had been a simple man, bound by the same chains that now threatened to shackle Khan¡ªpoverty, obscurity, a life spent bowing to those who thought themselves better.

    But even in his humility, the old man had dreamed of something greater for his son. Khan hadn¡¯t done it yet, but he would. He¡¯d make his father¡¯s ghost proud, even if it meant tearing the world apart to do it.

    He¡¯d claw his way out of this life, not just for himself, but for the man who¡¯d wished better for his son than he had for himself.

    He took a deep breath, the cool evening air filling his lungs, and exhaled slowly. The weight of his resolve settled over him like armor. He¡¯d start small¡ªhe already had a bit saved up. But he¡¯d grow. He¡¯d learn. He¡¯d outthink, outmaneuver, and outlast anyone who stood in his way. The nobles with their bloodlines and the cultivators with their qi could keep their lofty heights. Khan would build his own ladder, one rung at a time, until he stood above them all.

    The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the village in shades of amber and shadow. Khan turned his back on the broken house and the moss-covered steps, his steps firm and deliberate. He didn¡¯t look back. The past was a chain, and he¡¯d just broken free. Ahead lay the future¡ªa vast, uncharted expanse where he¡¯d write his own story, not as a nobody from a forgotten village, but as Khan, the merchant who¡¯d bent the world to his will.

 Chapter 12

    Chapter 12

    Through all this, Khan had not given up on his hunting endeavors. He still went and hunted for his quota everyday¡ªit was a good source of income. Especially when you considered that he could sell the skins and meat to Azul and Tarig.

    Right now, he was on his way to Azul the tanner. He barely had to negotiate with Tarig anymore. The butcher and he seemed to have come to an understanding. Khan¡¯s skill earning the man¡¯s respect.

    Azul¡¯s tannery was located at the other side of Lunis close to the noble area, with his work area being near the walls of the city, a winding river flowing through the place.

    I knew I was there because the smell of the tanning pits hit me before I saw them. That was what probably kept the wild animals away.

    His actual workshop was built far better than almost every other thing in the Humilis district. There were perks to being one of the best tanners in the city.

    Barrels of dye and finely crafted saddles were strewn around the place.

    Fine, sturdy stone, and a small courtyard greeted me as I neared the workshop. I brought one of my best catches so far; a fox, three hares and a beaver.

    That was my most prized one out of all the catches. They were great for meat, and even better for their skin. Especially as winter approached.

    I knocked twice, then shouted Azul¡¯s name. He insisted I do this. I was rapidly becoming one of his best suppliers as far as I could tell. Yet the man insisted on being treated like royalty.

    It would have annoyed me more if he also didn¡¯t offer the best prices.

    He took his sweet time walking out of the workshop. I almost turned back home to skin the animals myself.

    Even if I didn¡¯t skin them properly, I was sure Isabella and Charlotte would appreciate the clothing from the beaver and the rest.

    He opened the door as I was thinking of leaving. The tanner sure took his time.

    A soft chemical smell hit me as the door was left open. Azul lifted up his eyebrows, slanting them like the roof of a house. ¡°What do you want?¡±

    ¡®Ugh, did this man clean himself when he was working?¡¯ I don¡¯t know why the people here have such a thing for not cleaning up after themselves¡¯

    I held up the carcases so he could take a good look, granted I had wrapped them carefully before putting them in a sack.

    ¡°Fox, hares, and a beaver¡±

    ¡°A beaver?¡± He seemed more interested now. We had to go through this encounter every time I came here.

    ¡°You better have caught it properly. If the skin is damaged, I¡¯m not giving you a rusty copper¡±

    I sighed, this was tiring to have to go through, especially after coming straight from hunting and trapping around the farm.

    ¡°You take a look then.¡±

    Azul tried to snatch the carcass cloth out of my hand, but I pulled my hand away. He was one of the few people who refused to show me any proper respect. Every body else treated me different.

    ¡°You could take it properly, or just hold your hand out. You don¡¯t have to snatch it.¡±

    He rolled his eyes and held out his hand.

    ¡°That¡¯s better.¡±

    He ignored the comment and brought the animals to a large stone desk. Proceeding to check up on the animal.

    He moved straight for the beaver.

    ¡°This is better than expected.¡± He ran a hand over the thing, then looked at me skeptically. ¡°Are you the one who caught this?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I caught it.¡±

    ¡°Baah, ¡±he swatted his hands dismissively. ¡°What does it matter if you cannot get more like this?¡±

    ¡°If you want more, you could just say that.¡±

    He turned to me, wide-eyed, ¡°Are you sure you can get more of this quality?¡± I nodded, the first time I was seeing any type of surprised expression on his face.

    ¡°Do you know how hard this is to catch? Wait¡­ don¡¯t answer that¡±

    He walked back and forth. ¡°Okay, look, the season is changing and the demand for these furs have increased from the nobles and merchants.¡± He stopped pacing, removing his hand from his chin, slightly less arrogant. ¡°How many can you get?¡±

    ¡°How many do you want?¡± I didn''t think they were that hard to catch. Sometimes those were some of the best meals to have during winter at my old home.

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    A brief, painful memory ran through my mind before I crushed it.

    ¡°That¡¯s just what I¡¯m looking for. Two weeks. How many can you get in two weeks? ¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll have to trap them if you want the same quality, shooting them would only damage the furs more than necessary, so I could probably catch more nearing the end of the period. But around 2 or three a day. Why?¡±

    ¡°The merchants will start to leave soon. They¡¯ll want to get as much money as they can before winter comes in full effect. If we move fast, we can sell to them before they go. Not to talk of the nobles who¡¯ll want the latest furs for their wardrobes.¡±

    This smelt like another opportunity. I had already conceded to build an empire of gold¡­ right now I just had silver.

    ¡°You mean they¡¯ll want to go on one last trade run to sell of their wares?¡±

    Azul nodded, turning his back to me and waving ¡°Yes, yes, all that matters is that you can do it.¡±

    ¡°If you want them so terribly, then name a price.¡±

    Azul froze. His fingers twitched, lips pressing into a thin line, like he had reaten something bitter. His eyes flickered between me and the beaver carcass, ignoring the other animals. Calculating.

    He inhaled sharply. Through his nose, then exhaled in frustration, his jaws tightening as he realized his mistake. I had him by the neck now.

    ¡°One silver.¡±

    I arched my brow.

    He gnashed his teeth and his nostrils flared. He stared at like he was trying to bore a hole through my skull. The silence stretched. Heavy. I¡¯m glad I wasn¡¯t the first to speak. This was fun.

    I¡¯d spent most my life in the forest hunting, or waiting for prey to come my way. Still as stone for prey to wander into my traps. I could do this all day.

    ¡°One silver and 50 copper¡±

    I started to walk away. Taking a slow step back, turning just enough to make him think I was serious. A single bead of sweat rolled down his temple. I hoped he wasn¡¯t actually this stupid.

    One step.

    Two. His hands clenched at his side. His lips parted but no words came.

    Four.

    He fought with himself.

    Five.

    ¡°Wait.¡±

    I smiled. This really was fun.

    ¡°One silver 50 copper per beaver corpse.¡±

    ¡®What? The first offer was for the whole batch?¡¯ This guy was mad. I kept walking.

    ¡°I won''t make money on this.¡±

    I didn''t mind him.

    ¡°Khan!¡±

    I didn¡¯t have time for this. I¡¯d much rather spend time with Henley, or talk with the old healer. I was sure she could still teach me some stuff from her days working for a noble house.

    ¡°2 silver!¡±

    Now we were talking. I turned around. Face natural ¡°Three,¡± I paused. ¡°And you have to help me out with something.¡±

    His eyes bulged. I almost laughed. ¡°2, and a ten percent discount on any animals you bring in the future.¡±

    At the end of the day, we settled on 4 silver per beaver corpse in good condition and he had to tell me about all the best animals to hunt in the area and give me priority over other suppliers.

    I was good at hunting, and the quota wasn¡¯t a problem, but if I wanted to make the kind of money I was thinking of, I had to start aiming for things that would get me more money for all the effort I was putting in.

    At this point I was holding up more than I could bear.

    <hr>

    Now, I was heading over to Big Randy¡¯s place, if I wanted to get the amount of beavers I said I would, then I would have to get proper tools.

    I was sure his wife would be happy to see me, regardless. Though I was starting to believe she was trying to make me fat

    Today, I only saw Big Randy.

    ¡°Khan, what brings you here today, I¡¯m sure we were supposed to meet the day after tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I want to get some equipment.¡±

    ¡°Ah, you¡¯re here to trade then. You¡¯re shaping up to be a better business partner than I¡¯d hoped.¡±

    I wasn¡¯t sure how to react to that. He got up and led me over to a small den in the forgery. It had comfortable looking chairs, flowers everywhere and a set of tea and pastries on the beautifully designed desk.

    This must be his wife¡¯s work.

    ¡°What type of tool are you thinking of?¡±

    ¡°I just want a strong iron cord and a small door.¡± That stopped the man in his tracks.

    ¡°What would you want that for?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m hunting some beavers for the tanner, Azul. I want to go ahead and build some traps so I can catch them without the tools wearing down and whatnot.¡±

    ¡°Aah, you want a pit trap?

    ¡°You know how to trap?¡±

    He burst into a low, contained laughter, ¡°I¡¯ve been doing this type of work for decades. You learn a little bit of everything when you deal with so many people.¡±

    ¡®Oh! That made sense.¡¯

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry I can make you something much better. It¡¯ll be able to reset itself and it¡¯s much more easy to carry around. You¡¯ll be able to use it with no instruction.¡±

    ¡°Thankyou uncle, but, the cost?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not a problem.¡± He could still see the worry on my face. ¡°It''s the materials that you listed are expensive. I can make what I just said with barely higher prices.¡±

    ¡°Can you really?¡±

    ¡°Of course! Who do you think I am? If I said I was the second best mortal blacksmith in this whole city, no one would dare say that they were first!¡±

    I was starting to think I had offended him. ¡°I believe you uncle. I was just curious.¡±

    ¡°You said you were hunting beavers right? Just give me a few and we¡¯ll be even.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure? Do you even know how to skin them?¡±

    ¡°Of course not, I don¡¯t know everything. I¡¯ll just ask Azul. He¡¯s a bastard but he¡¯s damn good at his craft.¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯re asking him, then don¡¯t worry about it, I can talk to him for you.¡±

    Big randy showed a surprised look on his face. ¡°Oh? I didn¡¯t know you were so connected.¡±

    I chuckled, brushing it off. I wasn¡¯t anywhere yet. ¡°If you¡¯ll handle Azul, then the deal is done.¡±

    He held out his hand, a weird gesture. ¡°You¡¯re supposed to put out your hand as well, its something I learned as an apprentice.¡±

    I put out my hand the same way he did. He brought his hand forward quickly and clasped the inside of my arm firmly.

    ¡°The deal is sealed now.¡±

    ¡®That was it?.¡¯ This was easier than I thought. We barely even haggled.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have to do anything else?¡±

    ¡°Not unless you want to my lad.¡± He smacked me on my upper back. For someone who worked with heavy metals and hot things all day, it felt like he hit me with a hammer.

    ¡°Now, let¡¯s get you out of here before my wife catches you. Otherwise, you¡¯ll be stuffed with pastries and tea until you¡¯re too fat to swing that bow of yours.¡±

 Chapter 13

    Chapter 13

    I woke up before the roosters morning crow. Letting it be the thing to remove me from sleep would only anger me. Having it wake me up would just anger me. Something about a loud noise interrupting my sleep¡ªforcing me awake on someone else¡¯s terms¡ªdidn¡¯t sit right with me.

    It didn''t take too long to finish my chores around Henely¡¯s house. I didn¡¯t have to do them, but i saw it as good etiquette, especially since I was able to control how clean my surroundings were

    I wasn''t where I wanted to be yet, but I refused to live in filth like the rest of this district.

    Even the street outside¡ªI cleaned it myself. It didn¡¯t take long, and I was getting stronger by the day. The workouts, the hunting, the constant servings of meat and vegetables from Henley¡ªit was all paying off.

    I left before anyone woke up, heading toward the spot where I caught the beaver last time. If I could check the area, set my traps early, I¡¯d hit my quota fast.

    More money.

    More ways to stick it to Azul.

    That bastard¡¯s smug eyes bothered me more than they should.

    <hr>

    The dense woodland near the forest stretched before me¡ªa maze of willows and birches lining the riverbank.

    The air was thick with moisture, heavy enough that I could probably leave a mug on the ground and come back to find it full.

    The scent of moss and wet earth filled my nose.

    I scanned the ground¡ªtracks, chewed branches, gnawed tree trunks.

    I was close.

    Then¡ªI stopped.

    No.

    Something was wrong.

    My spot was ruined.

    The beaver dam¡ªtwigs, shrubbery, and all¡ªwas completely trashed. Not a single beaver in sight.

    I dropped to my knees, scanning the area. There had to be signs. A reason.

    Then I saw them¡ªtracks.

    Too big for wolves. Too deep for foxes.

    I ran my fingers over the dirt, my stomach sinking.

    A bear.

    And not just one¡ªa mother, with two cubs.

    That explained it. The beasts were preparing for winter, and she must have been desperate for food.

    My jaw clenched.

    If a bear had moved through here, the beavers were gone. They wouldn''t come back¡ªnot for a long time.

    Damn it.

    This was bad. If I couldn''t find a new spot, the deal with Azul and Big Randy might as well be dead.

    And Big Randy was already making the traps.

    I had to find a new spot¡ªfast.

    <hr>

    I waited for a while before heading out to search for new trapping areas. It was still too dark to navigate the forest properly, and besides, I still had to hit the supervisor¡¯s quota.

    At the very least, my old traps should have caught something.

    A waste.

    Two of my traps had been tampered with. They were near the ruined beaver site, so it was probably the bear.

    The rest? Empty. Either nothing wandered in, or the animals escaped.

    Today was not shaping up to be a good day.

    If I wanted to avoid pissing off the supervisor, I¡¯d have to hunt the damn animals myself.

    <hr>

    By the time I was heading back, the wheat fields were already stirring with early workers.

    A few farmers waved to me.

    One of them¡ªa guy whose name I was sure I hadn¡¯t learned yet¡ªwas one of the first to warm up to me after the barbecues.

    His family was doing better now. More food, more energy. He even had another child on the way.

    Good.

    It was important to keep people seeing me in a good light. If more people trusted me and brought me their problems, that meant more opportunities for me.

    I made my way to Azul¡¯s. Henley wasn¡¯t here yet. He¡¯d been working less these past few months, and I could tell his back was thanking him for it.

    I wanted to ask Azul about wild animals in the area.

    I had a decent idea already, but more information wouldn¡¯t hurt.

    Tarig, the butcher, wasn¡¯t much help. He only knew about butchering animals, not where they lived. He¡¯d spent his whole life in the city and didn¡¯t have much reason to care.

    Azul, though?

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    A tanner like him¡ªwho worked around rivers and dealt with fur traders¡ªwas bound to know something.

    If anyone knew about hidden ponds or lakes where beavers thrived, it would be him.

    <hr>

    I knocked on Azul¡¯s door. Multiple times.

    It turns out Azul didn¡¯t live at his tanning workshop.

    He had a small home close to the nobles'' district. Not inside, but close enough that it was obvious the nobles thought he was important.

    His apprentice answered the door, blinking sleep from his eyes.

    ¡°Master Azul?¡± I asked.

    The boy nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll get him.¡±

    I waited.

    A few minutes passed. They still weren¡¯t here

    Then ten.

    Then an hour. No sign still.

    By the time the sun had fully risen, Azul finally appeared.

    That was definitely intentional.

    ¡°What do you want?¡± Azul asked, expression blank. His apprentice stood beside him, red-faced, clearly embarrassed by his master¡¯s lack of urgency.

    ¡°I had a few questions,¡± I said. ¡°Something happened at the spot where I caught the beavers last time.¡±

    Azul¡¯s brow twitched. ¡°Huh? What happened? You can still get the required quantity, right?¡±

    ¡°That depends. Do you know of any good lakes or ponds?¡± I crossed my arms. ¡°I need to find new trapping areas, and I¡¯d rather not waste time searching blindly.¡±

    Azul scoffed. ¡°What makes you think I¡¯d know?¡±

    ¡°Uncle Henley told me you work with a lot of hunters and trappers. I figured you would.¡±

    ¡°Hmph.¡± Azul rolled his shoulders lazily, glancing at his apprentice. ¡°If it¡¯ll help your search, then no problem. I have a few maps of the area, courtesy of some hunters I¡¯ve done business with. When you do good work, people notice, eh?¡±

    He gestured, and his apprentice hurried off, returning a few moments later with the maps.

    Azul took them without looking and handed them to me like he was tossing scraps to a beggar.

    ¡°What happened, anyway?¡± he asked.

    ¡°A bear,¡± I said. ¡°A mother, with cubs. She must have been looking for food and destroyed the beaver habitat. They scattered.¡±

    Azul laughed.

    ¡°Look at that! Big talker over here can¡¯t even get what he promised?¡± His grin widened. ¡°Should I be surprised?¡±

    My grip on the maps tightened.

    I visibly got annoyed, I knew my face had changed¡ªI could feel the heat rising in my blood. I was starting to have enough of this man.

    ¡°I made a deal with you,¡± I said, voice even. ¡°And I¡¯ll keep it.¡± I straightened. ¡°But if you¡¯re just going to mock me, I¡¯d rather leave now.¡±

    Azul shrugged. ¡°Go ahead. I should have known better than to expect anything from a foreign peasant like you.¡±

    Then, under his breath, he muttered: ¡°F¨¢n Zh¨¯ng.¡±

    I froze.

    It was an old phrase. Dead language, even by the time I wrote this record.

    Mortal Breed.

    It meant ordinary. Less than ordinary. Insignificant.

    A man that was one with the mud. A man that could never cultivate.

    How the hell did he know?

    I clenched my teeth. The maps hit the floor, a sharp slap in the silence.

    For one of the few times in my life, I shouted.

    ¡°How dare you! I¡¯ll make you regret that statement.¡±

    Azul barely reacted. He just looked at me¡ªa look of complete dismissal.

    Like a wife who had lost respect for her husband.

    Like a master listening to the barking of a servant.

    Like a man looking at another who thought himself important¡ªwhen he wasn¡¯t.

    It was a look of impotence.

    My blood burned.

    I stormed off.

    Maps be damned.

    I didn¡¯t need them. I had seen enough to know where to go. Azul would regret ever looking down on me.

    I¡¯d figure out the rest myself.

    <hr>

    Khan¡¯s chest heaved as he stormed away from Azul¡¯s house, his fists clenched so tightly that his nails dug into his palms, drawing tiny beads of blood. The humiliation burned hotter than any fire he¡¯d ever felt.

    Azul¡¯s words echoed in his mind, a dagger twisting deeper into his pride. *F¨¢n Zh¨¯ng.* Mortal Breed. A man of the mud. A man who could never cultivate.

    The streets of the district blurred as Khan marched forward, his vision clouded by rage. Farmers tending to their fields near the city walls glanced his way, their faces tightening with unease as they caught sight of his expression. They stepped aside, avoiding his path. Khan didn¡¯t care. Let them fear him. Let them all avoid him.

    He didn¡¯t stop until he reached the edge of the woodlands, where the trees loomed like silent sentinels. The knife at his belt felt heavier than usual, and the arrow he carried seemed to pulse with a promise of violence. He didn¡¯t need maps. He didn¡¯t need Azul¡¯s smug condescension. He would find the beavers himself. He would prove himself. And if he couldn¡¯t, then he¡¯d make sure Azul regretted ever looking down on him.

    The forest was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant call of a bird. Khan¡¯s breathing slowed as he ventured deeper, his mind churning with thoughts he couldn¡¯t escape. His father¡¯s face surfaced in his memory¡ªstern, weathered.

    An old memory came up in his mind, his father, drunk, bottles of cheap ale strewn around despite his best efforts to clean up after his father.

    This was one of those rare few times his father let him in. Dropping the false facade that everything was okay, *A dog trying to father a tiger,* the old man had once said, his voice heavy with regret.

    He clenched his jaw, pushing the memory aside. His father had been wrong. He wasn¡¯t a dog. He wasn¡¯t insignificant. He would prove it, even if it meant tearing apart every beaver dam in the forest. Even if it meant staining his hands with blood. His father¡¯s legacy would mean something.

    Khan straightened, his jaw tightening. He would prove them all wrong. He would make the man regret ever underestimating him. But it wasn¡¯t just about Azul anymore. It was about proving something to himself. Proving that he was more than the sum of his failures, more than the son of a man who thought he had failed his child..

    The knife felt cold in his grip as he moved through the underbrush, his eyes scanning for signs of life. The thought of the bear crossed his mind, but he dismissed it. Let it come. He wasn¡¯t afraid. He wasn¡¯t weak. He was Khan, and he would make something of himself, no matter what it took.

    He stopped for a moment, leaning against a tree to catch his breath. The forest was alive around him, but he felt disconnected from it, as if he were an intruder in a world that didn¡¯t want him. The irony wasn¡¯t lost on him. He had always prided himself on his ability to survive, to adapt, to thrive in the harshest conditions. But now, standing in the middle of this vast, untamed wilderness, he felt more lost than ever.

    He moved deeper into the forest, his senses sharp, his eyes scanning for any sign of beaver activity. The knife in his hand felt like an extension of himself, a tool of survival and vengeance. He would find what he was looking for, no matter how long it took.

    As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the forest floor, Khan¡¯s resolve hardened. He would find the beavers. He would fulfill his deal. And when he returned, Azul would see. They would all see.

    The forest seemed to hold its breath as Khan disappeared into its depths, his knife gleaming in the fading light. A branch snapped in the distance. Khan¡¯s grip tightened on the bow.

    The hunt had begun.

    <hr>

    Hours passed, and the forest grew darker. The sun had disappeared behind the trees, leaving the world bathed in twilight. Khan¡¯s frustration grew with every step. He had found nothing¡ªno tracks, no gnawed branches, no signs of beavers. It was as if they had vanished, leaving him with nothing but his anger and his shame.

    He stopped by a small stream, kneeling to splash water on his face. The coldness of it shocked him, pulling him out of his thoughts for a moment. He stared at his reflection in the water, barely recognizing the man who looked back at him. His eyes were dark, his face hard and unyielding. He looked like a man on the edge, a man capable of anything.

    And maybe he was.

    The thought scared him, but it also excited him. He had always been in control, always careful, always calculating. But now, he felt something else¡ªa raw, primal energy that demanded release. He wanted to lash out, to destroy, to prove to the world that he was not to be underestimated.

    He stood, his resolve hardening. He would find the beavers, even if it meant staying in the forest all night. Even if it meant facing the bear. He wasn¡¯t afraid. He wasn¡¯t weak. He was Khan, and he would make something of himself, no matter what it took.

    ---

    As the night deepened, the forest seemed to come alive in a different way. The sounds of nocturnal creatures filled the air, and the shadows grew longer, more menacing. Khan moved through the darkness like a ghost, his knife in one hand, his arrow in the other. He was a predator now, hunting not just for survival, but for something deeper¡ªsomething he couldn¡¯t quite name.

 Chapter 14

    Chapter 14

    Heated. That¡¯s how I felt.

    My knuckles turned pale around the branch I was holding,I clenched my fists so hard I was sure I could¡¯ve crushed it. I had half a mind to march back and smash Azul¡¯s face in, but that wouldn¡¯t put beavers in my traps. I had to calm down.

    My rage was getting the better of me.

    Out here, anger would only make me careless. I¡¯d be more likely to get caught off guard and killed¡ªor go back empty-handed.

    That was worse.

    If I went back empty-handed, I wouldn¡¯t just be humiliated. Big Randy wouldn¡¯t trust me with another deal. I couldn¡¯t afford that. Not now.

    I took a deep breath. I had been able to take a short look at the map Azul had given me.That didn¡¯t tell me anything worth a damn. The bastard gave me the wrong one.

    Thinking about it now, he barely even checked the map when I got it.

    Fine, I¡¯d just rely on my instincts and experience. Beavers stuck close to water, and water meant lowland. I scanned the trees, searching for a drop in the terrain, a line of willows¡ªanything that hinted at a river or pond.

    I¡¯d done this before, when I was younger, I¡¯d gotten lost in the forest and had to look for water. It wasn¡¯t that hard, the trick was to find a deer. They always knew where to find water.

    I wanted to make this quick because I would have to find more beaver spots to meet the conditions I had agreed to. Especially since I had made that deal with Big Randy.

    I spotted one after some time. A fat, skittish creature, its ears twitching at every sound. I followed it, careful to keep my distance.

    I trailed it for over an hour to water.

    Hahahah!!! Good, now I just had to check this place out for beavers. Hopefully I would be able to find some here.

    I rose up to my feet, spooking the deer I had been trailing. It immediately ran off. Maybe i should have shot it? It was fat, so it would last for a while.

    I shook the thought away. I had bigger priorities. I started trailing the banks of the pond.

    Not long after, I noticed them beavers. Lots of them.

    My lips curled into a grin.

    I started to prepare myself, but I hadn¡¯t brought any traps. Bad thinking on my part. I couldn¡¯t let my emotions control me like that.

    All of a sudden a chill ran down my spine.

    The beavers¡­ stopped.

    No casual splashing, no sounds of gnawing wood. They huddled together near the bank, their bodies tense.

    Something was wrong.

    I crouched, scanning for cover. A tree. I climbed quickly, making sure there were no snakes hidden in the branches. A nasty surprise in a hiding spot was the last thing I needed.

    The leaves were thick enough to conceal me, so I settled in. I notched an arrow, I was prepared to shoot at the sound of anything I didn''t know.

    I¡¯d rather be paranoid and alive than¡­ well, I didn''t want to dwell on that.

    Below, the beavers still acted that way. Spooked.

    They huddled together, barely tapping their tails against the water. The young ones hidden in the middle. Something they sometimes did when predators were around.

    Then, it emerged.

    A shadow slid beneath the water¡ªfast, precise. A massive shape broke the surface, sleek and sinuous, like an otter the size of a panther.

    A shrill, high-pitched cry cut through the air. ¡°CRRRRRRRRR¡±

    The sun hit its fur, and for a moment, it shimmered like liquid metal.

    Long-bodied, with slick, oily fur and stubby but powerful legs, its claws curved into wicked edges. But the eyes¡ªthey were the most striking. Almost glowing. Its face was framed with gill-like slits, opening and closing as it breathed.

    The sun hit it and it was like it was hitting water.

    Its claws had a wicked edge.

    I could feel its presence as it moved, not just see it. It moved like a big cat, almost gracefully, predator.

    The beavers shrieked in response to the beast. Huddling closer together. The beast didn¡¯t care. The adult beavers, one of them gaining the courage, decided to try and nip at the beast as it came down on them.

    The adult beaver broke away, chattering aggressively. It lunged, baring its teeth.

    The spirit beast paused.

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    It focused on him, almost amused at the defiance.

    In a blur, it pounced.

    The beaver didn¡¯t stand a chance. The moment the beast¡¯s fangs touched its neck, it was dead.

    With barely a splash, the creature vanished beneath the water, swimming towards the other side of the pond.

    I held my breath.

    Seconds later, it emerged on the far bank, trotting toward the forest.

    Then, it stopped.

    It turned its neck to the side. Looking at my exact direction. It sniffed the air. Looking for something.

    Then it locked eyes with me.

    I froze.

    I couldn¡¯t move. Couldn¡¯t breathe.

    It was too fast. I wouldn¡¯t be able to shoot it before it reached me.

    It kept staring.

    Two seconds. Three.

    Then, it shook itself, water spraying from its coat, and turned away.

    It disappeared into the trees.

    I didn¡¯t move for another five minutes.

    A spirit beast.

    I had finally seen one.

    Was that what cultivation could do to a beast?

    Jealousy. After fear, that was my first emotion.

    Then cold hard rationale. The beavers were scared, huddled together and I had a bow and arrow.

    It was a massacre. I shot down 13 of the beavers. Far more than I could carry. If i built a sled I could take maybe five or six.

    I would have to put the rest somewhere that no one but me would be able to get it. But first¡­

    I set out making a sled. I had to hurry before anything else caught the scent of blood and found me standing here like an idiot.

    First, I needed a good base¡ªsomething strong but not too heavy. I scanned the area, eyes darting between the trees. Birch? Too brittle. Pine? Might work, but I needed something straighter, sturdier. Then I spotted them¡ªtwo young saplings, thick enough to hold weight but flexible enough to bend without snapping.

    Just like father taught me.

    He used to take me into the woods, showing me how to build things with whatever we could find. "A good sled isn''t just about carrying weight," he''d say, tying off the knots with a swift tug. "It''s about making sure it doesn¡¯t slow you down."

    I yanked out my dagger and got to work.

    I yanked out my dagger and got to work. The first swing sent a satisfying *crack* through the air. A few more, and the saplings groaned, tilting before finally giving way. I stripped the branches quickly, tossing the scraps aside. They¡¯d just get in the way.

    Next, I needed a crossbar. Something to keep the frame together. I found a shorter branch, about as thick as my wrist, and hacked it to size. It had to be strong enough to hold the load, but not so heavy that it weighed me down.

    Now for the bindings. If I had rope, this would be easy¡ªbut I didn¡¯t. That meant improvising. I crouched near a tree, peeling long strips of bark, twisting them into makeshift cordage. It wasn¡¯t pretty, but it would hold.

    I lashed the crossbar across the narrower ends of the saplings, forming a long, stretched-out ¡°V.¡± Tight knots, no room for slack. I gave it a few tugs¡ªsolid.

    The carrying surface was next. I needed a base to keep the beavers from dragging against the dirt. No time for fancy weaving. I grabbed more branches, stripping them down and laying them across the frame, securing them with more bark. If I had a hide, I would¡¯ve draped it over, but I¡¯d have to make do with what I had.

    The thicker ends of the poles¡ªthe part that would drag¡ªneeded smoothing. I took my hatchet and hacked at the edges, blunting them just enough so they wouldn¡¯t snag on every damn root and rock along the way.

    Finally, I hefted the beavers onto the sled, their bodies limp and heavy. five of them. Far more than I could carry on my back. I tied them down, looping the bark strips over their bodies, pulling them tight so they wouldn¡¯t spill out.

    I kept the rest of the beavers hidden wherever I could put them. The rest of the alive beavers not daring to come close to me

    I took a breath, testing the weight. Heavy. But manageable.

    Gripping the sled¡¯s frame, I leaned forward and pulled. The poles flexed, the sled groaned, but it moved. Slow at first, but steady.

    Now I just had to get back before it got really dark. Before anything else decided I looked easier to catch than those beavers.

    The forest floor was uneven, roots and rocks jutting out like nature¡¯s obstacles. The travois groaned as it slid over the rough terrain, the poles scraping against the ground.

    <hr>

    It was hell getting the sled across the forest floor, especially with trying to avoid predators. I even took the shortest route, but by the time I got to the outskirts of the city, the gates were minutes away from closing..

    I hurried forward. If they locked up, I''d be stuck outside all night with a pile of fresh beavers and blood in the air. That wasn¡¯t happening.

    I was the only one there except for a few guards. It was the same ones I had met when I first came to Lunis.

    One of them stepped forward, squinting at me. Jerki, stopping me.

    ¡°What do we have here, kid?¡± He gestured for the other guard¡ªMichael¡ªto come over.

    ¡°Beavers. I have a contract with the blacksmith, Big Randy and Azul.¡±

    Jerki let out a low whistle. ¡°Oh? Someone¡¯s coming up in life.¡± His eyes flicked to the pile of carcasses.

    ¡°Yeah. Did you give up on cultivation? I hear that beavers are expensive. Especially this time of year¡±

    I shrugged, keeping my face neutral. ¡°I just know I have to get them to Azul and Big Randy. Azul said they were for some nobles.¡± I let the last part hang, watching for a reaction.

    Both guards shared a glance. They got the message.

    ??¡°Hmph.¡± Jerki rubbed his chin, taking the lead. ¡°Well, I¡¯ve been hearing rumors. Some young man¡¯s been throwing barbecues over in the Humilis district. And from the way folks describe him¡­¡± He raised an eyebrow. ¡°Sounds an awful lot like you. You know anything about that?¡±

    ¡°Just something I do on the side.¡±

    Michael grinned. ¡°If it¡¯s just something you do on the side, you wouldn¡¯t mind bringing us some, eh?¡±

    Jerki nodded his head enthusiastically. He was already picturing himself with a plate of roasted meat.

    I held back a sigh, before realising they could lock me out. They had me. If I refused outright, they could make my life difficult. And I had better things to do than argue with gate guards.

    And I wanted to hurry up and get to azul. To shove it in his face. This was wasting my time.

    ¡°I won¡¯t be able to bring anything myself,¡± I said, keeping my voice even. ¡°Hunting and filling Azul¡¯s orders takes up too much time. But if you come by, I¡¯ll talk to the supervisor. Make sure you get through.¡±

    They exchanged looks, coming to a silent agreement.

    ¡°Alright,¡± Jerki finally said, stepping aside. ¡°You¡¯re lucky you made it before we locked up.¡±

    Michael smirked. ¡°We¡¯ll be coming over soon. Make sure there¡¯s something for us.¡±

    I gave a half-nod and pulled my sled through.

    As I walked away, I heard them talking behind me.

    ¡°Hah! Told you he¡¯d come up. Glad he owes me a favor.¡±

    ¡°Lying bastard! You were betting on how long it¡¯d take for him to get rejected and find a real job¡­¡±

    Gates shut behind me¡ªAzul¡¯s smug face waited ahead, this was going to be good¡­

 Chapter 15

    Chapter 15

    By the time I reached Azul¡¯s tannery, my legs felt like lead. My hands ached, raw from the sled¡¯s grip. But none of that mattered.

    I had done it. And now, I wanted to see Azul¡¯s smug face twist when he realized it too.

    People stared as I passed, eyes flicking between the bloodied sled and the boy dragging it. Let them. They weren¡¯t the ones who nearly got torn apart for this haul.

    I pounded on the door. The sharp, acrid smell of the tannery hit me again¡ªthat unmistakable mix of animal hide, chemicals, and sweat. Metal tools clinked somewhere in the back room, and the constant drip of some solution onto stone created a steady rhythm beneath our conversation.

    The apprentice answered again.

    ¡°Get your master,¡± I said. I didn¡¯t care what he was doing. He could drop it and come to me.

    Azul came not long after, stepping into view. Good. He didn¡¯t keep me waiting this time.

    He barely glanced at me¡ªI grabbed one of the beavers and let it drop at his feet with a heavy thud. The wet slap of flesh on stone made his apprentice flinch. Blood smeared across the ground, spreading in dark streaks across the stone.

    His apprentice flinched.

    ¡°There¡¯s your beavers,¡± I said, voice flat.

    Azul¡¯s eyes flicked to the carcass. Then to my hands. The dried blood. The torn edges of my sleeve. His smirk thinned.

    Then he scowled. ¡°This couldn¡¯t have waited? I¡¯ll have you¡ª¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have time for this,¡± I cut in. ¡°I brought the goods. ¡°I told you I¡¯d get them, and I did. So check them and stop wasting my time.

    I didn¡¯t drag this sled through mud and predator-infested woodlands just to get scolded. I was done treating this fool so nicely.

    He was about to launch into another tirade but stopped. His eyes flicked to the blood caked on my hands, the dried streaks across my arms and clothes. Then to my dagger¡ªstill in my grip, the blade dark, catching the light just enough to remind him what it was for.

    That shut him up.

    His apprentice took a step back first, eyes darting between me and the blood on my hands. Azul noticed his apprentice¡ªhis scowl faltering for half a second.

    Then, slowly, he crouched, lifting the beaver like he expected it to fall apart in his hands.

    He bent down, grabbing the beaver, but I didn¡¯t miss the shift in his movements¡ªmore careful now, more deliberate.

    Something shifted inside me as I watched him¡ªa small, bitter satisfaction. He''d called me weak, incapable. Now he was the one moving cautiously in my presence. This wasn''t just about proving him wrong anymore. It was about reminding him¡ªand myself¡ªthat I wasn''t someone to be dismissed.

    Azul snorted, nudging the beaver slightly with his boot. ¡°Hmph. Even a starving rat may gnaw the flesh of a dragon¡¯s corpse, thinking itself a beast of legend.¡±

    Azul ran a hand over the pelt, fingers pressing into the fur like he was searching for a flaw. His mouth twisted, but he found nothing to pick at.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t ruin the coat too much. A miracle,¡± he muttered.

    I didn¡¯t blink. Didn¡¯t move. Let the silence stretch just long enough to make him shift.

    He sighed. ¡°Fine.¡±

    He inspected the beaver, turning it over in his hands. ¡°This is better than last time. Didn¡¯t think you had it in you. Guess you really can fulfill the order, eh?¡± He chuckled.

    I didn¡¯t move. Didn¡¯t blink. Let the silence stretch just long enough for Azul to shift his weight, adjusting his stance.

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    He ignored it. Ignored everything he¡¯d said before¡ªabout how I couldn¡¯t cultivate, how I¡¯d never be able to follow through. The more he pretended it never happened, the more I simmered.

    The night weighed on me. My muscles screamed. My ribs ached. And worse?

    Azul still wouldn¡¯t say the words.

    Maybe it was enough. But I wasn¡¯t sure it was enough to quiet the ache in me.

    "I''ll be back tomorrow for payment," I said, already turning to leave. "Full price."

    Right now, I needed sleep. The rest could wait.

    <hr>

    The door creaked as I shoved it open. Darkness greeted me, the faint scent of old wood and stale air grounding me in reality.

    I set the dagger down first. Then, the rest of the weight followed¡ªthe sled, my coat, the exhaustion. I barely managed to pry off my boots before I fell onto the mat, muscles aching in protest.

    Sleep found me before I could think.

    I made it two steps before my knees nearly gave out. The world blurred at the edges¡ªjust for a moment¡ªbefore I caught myself against the cot.

    My body screamed with every movement. Wounds I''d ignored during the hunt now demanded attention. Bruises blooming beneath my skin like dark flowers. The trek back had left a mark.

    I collapsed onto the small cot in the corner, not bothering to remove my bloodied clothes. Just needed to rest. Just for a moment.

    A small voice broke through my exhaustion. "Khan?"

    Charlotte. The youngest. Standing in the doorway, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

    "Go back to bed," I muttered.

    She didn''t move. Her eyes were wide, taking in the blood, the dirt. "Are you hurt?"

    "I''m fine." The words came out sharper than I intended.

    Henley appeared behind Charlotte, a towel in his hands. His eyes swept over me¡ªtaking in the state of my clothes, the blood, the way I was holding myself. He''d been around long enough to read the signs of a hard hunt.

    Henley stood there, towel in hand, his gaze settling on me with that same quiet scrutiny. He didn''t speak right away, just exhaled through his nose¡ªa slow, measured breath.

    ¡°Looks like you brought back more than just beavers this time.¡± His voice was steady, but there was a weight to it. Not anger. Not exactly. Something heavier.

    I ignored it, shifting on the cot, trying to find a position that didn''t aggravate my wounds.

    Henley sighed, dipping the cloth into the bowl of water. ¡°You¡¯re making a name for yourself.¡±

    He wrung out the towel. ¡°Hope you survive long enough to enjoy it.¡±

    I said nothing.

    Henley sighed and knelt, wringing out the towel. Water dripped into the bowl, slow and steady. He didn¡¯t look at me as he spoke again. ¡°You¡¯ve got nothing left to prove. Not like this.

    You could take a step back, build something for yourself instead of breaking yourself.¡±

    He wrung out the towel, voice quieter. ¡°You don¡¯t have to bleed to prove your worth.¡±

    I let out a tired breath, this wasn''t the first time we were having this conversation, the words barely registering before exhaustion pulled me under.

    I said nothing. Sleep tugged at me, but my mind was already racing. The beavers for Azul. The daily quota. Big Randy would be waiting. And then there was the spirit beast¡ªa problem I couldn''t ignore much longer.

    I mumbled some more things to him, not realising I was drifting off to sleep.

    Morning came too soon, dragging me from a sleep that barely counted. My wounds had stiffened overnight, every movement a slow punishment, each movement a reminder of the hunt. And I woke up¡ª

    In the wrong bed.

    My body tensed. This wasn¡¯t mine. It was Henley¡¯s.

    I shot to my feet immediately , jaw tightening as pain flared through my ribs I¡¯d had too much etiquette beaten into me for that. This wasn¡¯t right. My father would have never allowed it¡ªtaking another man¡¯s bed like I belonged there. Guest or not, I knew my place. A man should sleep in his own bed, not another¡¯s.

    I straightened, exhaling slowly. Next time, I¡¯d sleep on the floor.

    Henley had left a bowl of herbal salve and clean bandages¡ªsilent care that spoke more than words.

    The scent of the herbal salve was sharp, mixing with the lingering coppery tang of dried blood. I dipped my fingers into the paste and winced as I smeared it over my wounds. It burned. A reminder that I was still here, still breathing.

    Henley¡¯s care was a quiet thing, never spoken aloud. He didn¡¯t approve of what I was doing¡ªof how I came back each time more battered than before. But he never stopped me. Never told me to quit. Instead, he left bandages by my bedside, always waiting for me to use them or ignore them.

    I flexed my fingers, testing the stiffness in my knuckles, when the sound of boots scuffing against the doorway made me pause.

    The air shifted first. A presence. Heavy, watching.

    Then, the footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. Too many for just one man.

    My stomach coiled tight. Not now.

    The supervisor stood there, arms crossed, his expression unreadable¡ªbut I knew better.

    ¡°Heard you brought in some fine pelts,¡± he said. Not a question. A demand wrapped in idle conversation.

    I straightened, my grip tightening around the bandage in my hands.

    "Word travels," he continued. "A little rat of mine is talking. Those beavers¡ªthey''re worth more than your usual catch. I''ll be taking my cut."

    He stepped inside, his silhouette cutting against the morning light. Behind him, a few of his men loomed in the shadows.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be taking my cut.

    I exhaled slowly, fists tightening into a fist.

    Of course.

 Chapter 16

    Chapter 16

    I sighed, my breath fogging in the cold morning air. I should have expected this sooner or later.

    How could I get out of this?

    Hunting somewhere else wasn¡¯t an option. The only alternative was the rice fields far from the city¡ªfull of nothing but frogs and the occasional snake.

    That wouldn¡¯t work.

    The supervisor sank onto the rooms only wooden chair, its legs creaking under his weight. His stomach spilled over his belt, stretching the fabric of his tunic tighter than the last time I saw him.

    Grease stained his cuffs, a leftover mark of a meal he hadn¡¯t bothered to finish wiping away. His  cronies flanked him, silent.

    "You¡¯ve been doing well for yourself, kid. But you¡¯ve been cutting me out.¡±

    He leaned forward, bits of meat and oil in his teeth, ¡°When exactly were you planning to cut me in?" The tone of his voice made me think it was a question that wasn¡¯t a question.

    Henley, standing beside me, spoke up, "We already made a deal, sir. And those weren¡¯t hunted on the fields, he was contrac¡ª"

    ¡°I don¡¯t remember asking for your opinion. Hunchback.¡±

    Henley flinched, lowering his head, and looking away.

    "Supervisor," I said, keeping my voice steady, "he''s right. I was contracted by Azul. You have no say in this."

    ¡°Hah!¡± The supervisor grinned, his teeth yellowed from chewing leaves. ¡°You think throwing names around is going to help you? I run these fields. My word is law.

    His men grinned too, sharp and ugly, like wolves baring their teeth.

    ¡°Now, you can divvy up or you can just stop hunting.¡± He let the words settle in the air, eyes fixed on me. I was glad Henley had made Charlotte leave earlier.

    I kept my expression unreadable, while on the inside, my mind raced.

    If I refused I was sure I wouldn¡¯t just lose hunting rights, or be forced to make a living in the rice paddies. If that was all he planned to do, he wouldn¡¯t have brought his muscle.

    No¨Che¡¯d make sure I lost much more.

    Maybe I¡¯d wake up to find no one in the district wanted to work with me, or my traps and equipment broken, or maybe I¡¯d be the one losing a few teeth.

    ¡°Smart men pay their dues, kid.¡± The man added casually. ¡°Stupid ones stop showing up to work.¡±

    The room felt smaller, his men angling themselves to look more menacing, bigger. Henley swallowed but said nothing.

    I met the supervisor¡¯s gaze.

    ¡°I already gave you a cut.¡± My voice was flat. I looked him up and down, ¡°Look at you¡ªyou¡¯re not starving. Anything more, and I''d be working for free.¡±

    He laughed and swiped a greasy thumb across his lips, crusty, bits of things I didn¡¯t want to know off at the corners of his mouth.

    ¡°So?¡± His eyes gleamed. He wiped his thumb clean on his tunic. ¡°I want more.¡±

    I didn¡¯t break eye contact, checking for any weakness. It was weird, humans were like animals that way, how much of them you could know by just watching.

    He didn¡¯t give anything away, this wasn¡¯t his first time doing something like this.

    ¡°Fine, what do you want.¡±

    He broke into an even larger grin, this one more sincere, but somehow still predatory, ¡°Aah, my boy, you had sense in you after all.¡± His men chuckled in agreement as he smacked his thick hand on my shoulder.

    ¡°Those beavers fetch a pretty silver. I want ten of them. Same quality you give that cocky tanner.¡±

    ¡°Ten!¡± Was this guy mad? I was already spreading myself thin with Azul and Big Randy, now he asks for ten!

    ¡°Ten is too much, I canno-¡±

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t asking.¡± His grin had been replaced with a serious facade¡­ right, I wasn¡¯t the one with the upper hand.

    <hr>

    One Week Later¡­

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    My world had shrunk to exhaustion. Raw hands. Aching arms. Burning legs.

    Hunt. Haul. Skin. Trade. Sleep was a luxury.

    But I met the quota. Every. Single. Day.

    I barely felt the cold anymore. My breath still fogged in the early morning air, but the chill didn¡¯t bite like it used to. Maybe because I was too damn tired to notice.

    Too little sleep. Too many demands. Too much at stake.

    Azul wanted his usual supply. Big Randy expected his share. And now the supervisor had forced his way in.

    I had managed¡ªbarely.

    But something had been off.

    *******

    Even as the sun rose, I could already feel the exhaustion creeping in, the unrelenting need to push myself that bit further, just to meet the quotas. Just to get ahead.

    I hadn¡¯t had a full night¡¯s sleep in days. I kept pushing through, hunting, setting traps, dealing with Big Randy, and fulfilling the supervisor¡¯s new demands. At first, I thought I could keep things going, balance it all somehow¡ªbut the cracks were starting to show.

    I had a list of things to check this morning: traps to reset, hides to clean, a stockpile of beavers to inspect.

    I made my way toward one of my hidden caches, praying that this time, everything would be intact. But as I neared, a bad feeling twisted my gut.

    At first, I thought it was just the usual problems¡ªtraps failing, animals slipping away. But then the patterns didn¡¯t make sense. Traps weren¡¯t just empty. They were wrecked. Snapped wood, chewed ropes, scattered bait.

    Then, one night, I checked his hidden stockpile deep in the woods. The beavers I had set aside¡ªgone.

    And it was destroyed.

    Not stolen. Ruined.

    Fur and meat torn apart, eaten. Bones scattered like someone¡ªor something¡ªhad deliberately gone out of its way to make sure he had nothing left.

    I stood there, staring at the carnage, a slow dread settling in.

    I ran my fingers over the ground, trying to make sense of what happened. It was clear now: this wasn¡¯t a human doing. No thief had the patience to tear a cache apart so meticulously. There was only one explanation. The spirit beast.

    I stood there for a moment, letting the realization sink in. My first instinct was to avoid it, to keep hunting and let the problem fix itself somehow. But this wasn¡¯t something I could just walk away from. This wasn¡¯t something that could be ignored anymore.

    I stood there for a moment, letting the realization sink in. My stomach twisted. This wasn¡¯t just bad luck. This wasn¡¯t some petty thief or random animal. This was deliberate.

    I clenched my fists, trying to force down the frustration boiling in my chest. The beast wasn¡¯t just taking my kills¡ªit was tearing them apart, making sure I had nothing left.

    A sharp breath pushed through my teeth. At first, I wanted to ignore it, to keep my head down and just work around the problem. But this wasn¡¯t something I could out-hunt. This wasn¡¯t something I could fix with more traps, more effort.

    The realization made my skin crawl.

    I exhaled slowly, forcing my tired legs to move. Each step back toward camp felt heavier, like I was dragging the weight of those ruined carcasses with me. My breath came out in short bursts, the cold air doing nothing to cool the frustration simmering in my chest.

    <hr>

    That afternoon, I found myself in the forest again. More traps to set. More beavers to catch. I fumbled with the trap, fingers numb despite the sweat slicking my palms. The knots that used to take seconds now felt like puzzles meant to break me.

    The pressure was growing. The supervisor was breathing down my neck, wanting more. But it was hard to focus on anything with the gnawing feeling of failure hanging over me. The beast was out there, watching, waiting for me to slip.

    I crouched beside a trap, my hands moving on instinct as I reset it for the third time. The night before, the beast had destroyed half my traps and taken another beaver. If it wasn¡¯t the creature itself tearing things apart, it was some new form of sabotage¡ªbroken stakes, torn nets, and now even the air seemed to thicken with the weight of it.

    I heard a snap. My heart leapt into my throat. A trap had gone off, I raced of. But I didn¡¯t have time to rejoice. It was too late.

    ¡­Only to find nothing. No beaver, no creature. Just the remnants of a broken trap, a pile of leaves, and the scent of the spirit beast¡¯s presence still lingering. I cursed under my breath, frustration rising in my chest.

    Every step I took forward, the beast took two back. I was always behind. Always losing.

    <hr>

    As night fell, I set up an ambush near a clearing where I¡¯d seen the beast¡¯s tracks earlier that day. It was a foolish decision, but I couldn¡¯t help myself. I needed to catch it. Needed to prove to myself I wasn¡¯t losing. I¡¯d been hunting for hours, trying to stay alert, but sleep-deprivation was catching up with me. My eyelids grew heavier, my limbs more sluggish.

    Suddenly, I heard it¡ªa rustling, low and quick. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. My heart raced.

    The air smelled wrong¡ªmusky, damp, with a faint metallic tang that didn¡¯t belong. The usual night sounds were gone. No crickets. No wind rustling the leaves. Just stillness, thick and cloying.

    I felt it before I saw it. A weight in the air. A presence. Then¡ªa blur, cutting through the darkness, faster than my eyes could follow.

    I barely had time to react. The spirit beast was upon me, its silhouette appearing out of the shadows, sleek and predatory. Before I could draw my weapon, it was gone, as if it had been a figment of my imagination.

    My breath hitched. My muscles locked. My fingers itched for my weapon, but I knew¡ªtoo slow. The thing was faster."

    I couldn''t track it. Couldn''t see it. The damn thing was toying with me."

    I let out a breath I hadn¡¯t realized I¡¯d been holding and sagged against the tree, my exhaustion threatening to take over completely.

    I wasn¡¯t sure how much longer I could keep going.

    <hr>

    Later that night, as I dragged myself back to camp, I felt the weight of the last few days pressing down on me. The traps were ruined. The beavers were scarce. I was behind, and the supervisor wasn¡¯t going to care. Neither was Azul, especially not after the spat I had with him.

    I¡¯d lost count of how many times I had nearly caught the beast. How many times I¡¯d thought I was close, only to fail again.

    As I reached my tent, I stopped cold.

    There, right outside, was a fresh carcass. Beheaded.

    The blood hadn¡¯t even dried.

    My fingers curled into a fist.

    The bastard wasn¡¯t just ruining my traps anymore.

    It was hunting me.

    Enough. This had to end.

    I was going to hunt it down.

    <hr>

 Chapter 17

    Chapter 17

    ¡®Damn it.¡± I had been a fool. I should have realized¡ªI was on its hunting grounds, stealing its food, disrupting its territory.

    Of course, it would start hunting me.

    ¡®I should leave¡ªgo somewhere far into the city.¡¯ I had silver to hide out for at least a few years.

    ¡®Run.¡¯ The thought clawed at me. I had the silver. No one would stop me. I could disappear, live like a rich man somewhere far away. Never struggle again. Never bleed again.

    ¡®I could-¡¯

    No.

    What was this nonsense filling my head? My father was dead. My cultivation dreams were all but up in smoke and I was going to give up? If I run now, I''ll keep running forever. If I fight, at least I''ll die on my feet.

    What kind of man hides like a coward? Would I spend my whole life running? Could I even face my father in the afterlife?

    Tell him that not only did I fail my promise to him but that I also gave up at the barest roadblock?

    And I wanted to be a cultivator? Would I back down as a cultivator too? Would I shy away when a rival decided to fight me for my place in a sect? Or a resource I wanted?

    If I¡¯m a dog of a son, then what does that make my father?

    I threw my fist against a boulder. Bad move. My hand started bleeding. This was starting to become a habit.

    I still had a few scars from when I had last hit something in anger or frustration, or some other foolish emotion, one of them splitting open again, leaking warm blood.

    I clenched my fist but forced myself to stop.

    I exhaled, flexing my fingers. No more foolish injuries. I needed both hands to kill.

    Damn it. We all die in the end¡ªbetter to die fighting. At least I¡¯d die chasing my dreams.

    I was going to fight.

    But first, I needed knowledge. There was only one person in the district who might have it¡ªHealer Kim. She was the only one I could think of who might know something more than fairytales about the spirit beast and would be willing to talk to a peasant, the rest would all be nobles or maybe Azul.

    If she didn¡¯t know anything, well, I was ready to die anyway.

    I knocked on her door. She didn¡¯t come. Probably sleeping.

    I knocked again. This time I could hear shuffling.

    ¡°Healer Kim¡± I screamed in a whisper. ¡°Can you come to the door.¡±

    After some slow shuffling, she was at the door.

    She inhaled. Gasped. ¡°Khan!¡± She grabbed my hand and pulled me in. ¡°What happened to you?¡±

    She forced me onto a chair she dragged near, which was surprising for such a frail woman.

    ¡°I was hunting.¡±

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    ¡°I¡¯ve seen you after you¡¯ve hunted before and that''s not how you looked.¡±

    I sighed, then I began to tell her about what I was doing¡­

    ¡°Are you out of your mind, child?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not the point.¡± I leaned forward. ¡°I¡¯m not asking for your permission. I need to know how to kill it.¡±

    ¡°You stubborn¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m already dead if I don¡¯t fight.¡±

    She opened her mouth, then closed it. ¡°You don¡¯t look like you came here to get patched up.¡±

    A sharp sting tore through my hand. I stiffened, clenching my jaw, swallowing a hiss as she put some alcohol on my wounds.

    ¡°I know how well-read you are and¡­ well, do you know anything about the spirit beast?¡±

    ¡°Are you trying to hunt it?¡± She put her hand up to her gaping mouth. ¡°I¡¯m not helping you go kill yourself.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t get it, the beast is hunting me now. The only other choice I have is to hide out here in the district.¡±

    She raised an eyebrow as if to say¡­ ¡®So? What was the problem with that?¡¯

    ¡°I have to slay it.¡±My voice was raw, desperate¡ªcraving, like an addict reaching for just one more... ¡°What would you have me do? Waste away and live out my days? Hiding like a cowering dog?¡±

    ¡°I came here to ask your help so I don¡¯t just go in completely blind. I¡¯m perfectly willing to go in there and kill it or die in the pursuit.¡±

    She crossed her arms. I crossed mine.

    She raised her eyebrow and I raised mine.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sending you to your death.¡±

    ¡°You think I don¡¯t know that? I don¡¯t care. Tell me how to kill it. If I go now and die, so be it. If I live, I¡¯ll be one of the few mortal men to ever kill a spirit beast.¡± ¡®Take that cultivators!¡¯

    I¡¯m going to die regardless, I¡¯d much rather not wait for death to come for me.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s the point of all this? I¡¯ve seen your work these past few months. You work like a dog and barely enjoy it. You don¡¯t even taste the fruit of your own labor.

    Stay here, that blacksmith is a good man. He might even take you on as an apprentice.

    Find a wife.¡±

    I shook my head as she spoke. ¡°I have made promises to myself and someone I love. And I¡¯d rather not live my life while I don¡¯t fulfill them.¡±

    She raised her eyes to the roof and put the back of her hand on her forehead, something she had been doing a lot throughout our conversation. ¡°Oh, the folly of the young.¡±

    ¡°You stubborn child¡­¡± She sighed heavily, rubbing her temples before finally meeting my gaze. ¡°You really won¡¯t let this go, will you?¡±

    My silence was enough of an answer so she continued.

    ¡°Fine. I know what type of spirit beast you''re dealing with.¡±

    I leaned forward. ¡°Those things are so strong that any weakness you could find would still be hard for you to exploit, regardless of how skilled you are.

    ¡°If it¡¯s been hunting beavers in such high numbers and has now turned to hunting you, it¡¯s likely a mother protecting her newborns. She¡¯s weaker than usual¡ªbut still strong enough to kill you.

    Spirit beasts can be vengeful. Your hunts made it see you as a threat, a thief stealing its food. And since it left a head at your camp, it¡¯s done with warnings.¡±

    That tracked. I nodded, urging her to continue.

    ¡°You¡¯ll find her young near water,¡± she said. ¡°She won¡¯t stray far from them, especially while they¡¯re still weak. But if you¡¯re going after her, you need to be careful.¡±

    She raised a finger. ¡°First, mask your scent. She¡¯ll track you long before she ever falls for a trap. Roll in mud, burn bitter herbs¡ªwhatever it takes to cover your trail. If she catches your scent near her young, she won¡¯t hesitate. She¡¯ll come straight for your throat.¡±

    Another finger. ¡°Second, traps alone won¡¯t be enough. Even if you set stakes inside them, she¡¯ll just tear her way out with a few wounds. You need a plan for when she¡¯s cornered.¡±

    A third. ¡°Third, if you do manage to trap her, you¡¯ll only get one shot. Just one. Miss, and you die.¡±

    Finally, she pressed her palm flat on the table. ¡°The only weak spot is the back of the neck, between the gills. If you can strike there with Oakre¡¯s blood, it¡¯ll burn her insides like fire¡ªbut it won¡¯t kill her instantly. She¡¯ll go berserk before she dies. Be ready for that.¡±

    I absorbed her words, already piecing together a plan in my head.

    Even with all this, it would be a battle against the odds. But if I let it stop me now, then I¡¯ll let anything stop me.

    Thank you healer, how much do I owe you?

    ¡°I¡¯d much rather you did not go if you are that grateful.¡±

    ¡°...¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve done enough for Henely and his family and that¡¯s enough for me, that man has been through a lot¡±

    ¡°Thank you so much.¡±

    ¡°If I don¡¯t make it¡­ just know I was grateful.¡±

    <hr>

 Chapter 18

    Chapter 18

    The first thing I had to do was make Oakres blood.

    Oakres Blood was a rare concoction, known only to seasoned hunters and herbalists. It was used to poison elusive prey¡ªcreatures too swift or cunning to be taken down by ordinary means.

    This time, I was using it to kill a spirit beast.

    I gathered all the ingredients I could from hunting and foraging. The only thing I had to buy was Crimson Vein Tree leaves and making the actual ¡°blood¡± was easy.

    The last step was preparing the wooden stakes. Bronze would have been stronger, but it was too costly and too slow to make. And in the end, it wouldn¡¯t kill¡ªjust wound. Wood would do just the same.

    Even with the extra demands on my catches, I was still able to deliver beavers. If not for this spirit beast, I¡¯d only use another week to finish the job.

    I made sure not to tell Henley and his family. There¡¯d be no point in having them know only for them to try and stop me.

    I¡¯d get a few rations from the bakery and leave at dusk. I¡¯d make sure to either kill the beast, or have it kill me.

    For that, I needed weapons. I could make the wooden stakes myself, but they¡¯d be crude and unreliable. Or I could go to Big Randy.

    The obvious choice was definitely Big Randy.

    So, that was my second stop.

    Big Randy was in the forge. A few apprentices surrounding him.

    I waited a few hours until they finished. I felt bad about asking but I was going to go get that beast no matter what¡ªand I wanted every advantage I could get.

    Big Randy walked out drenched in sweat, his singed eyebrows giving him a sort of permanently surprised look.

    ¡°Ahhh, Khan, what are you doing here? ¡± he used a cloth to wipe the grime from his face.

    ¡°You here for the last installment?¡±

    ¡®Aaah,¡¯ I¡¯d forgotten. Previously, I had made a deal with Randy¡ªmonthly silver installments, on top of the 100 I¡¯d already paid. This last installment was 20 silver. That¡¯d mean I had a 2/3 stake in our enterprise.

    ¡°No. Not today, I wanted to get some wooden stakes, something I could stick in the ground firmly.¡±

    He raised an eyebrow, ¡°Are you still hunting beavers?¡±

    He looked me over, noticing the scars that hadn¡¯t been there before.

    ¡°I know they are hard to catch, but I¡¯m sure they aren¡¯t that hard.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I had some problems catching them¡­ another predator. ¡°

    ¡°Ahhh, I see, you think you can handle it?¡±

    He sat down next to me, patting the chair next to me so I would sit down as well.

    ¡°You remind me of men I used to know. Always thought they had one more fight in them, more juice than they could squeeze¡­ until they didn¡¯t."

    I¡¯ve known plenty of those types of folks throughout my life. Skilled, stubborn. You know what? I¡¯ve never seen any of them survive their own overconfidence.¡±

    We¡¯ve made a deal, and if you cannot fulfill it, then you can just negotiate new terms. Nothing is worth losing your life over. ¡°

    I was taken aback. Why was he being so nice? ¡°It¡¯s not a problem, I¡¯ve dealt with predators before.¡±

    He looked into my eyes. ¡°That¡¯s the look of a man I used to be friends with¡ªJi Lan. He had that same gaze before he told us to escape."

    It¡¯s not a look for a boy like you to have¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m just trying to get my quota up. Nothing serious¡±

    This was starting to bother me. Was everyone here decent? Had I just stumbled on the only nice folks in this place?

    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    I thought about my cultivation talent and scoffed. ¡®Hah! If I had good luck, then the skies had a twisted sense of humor.¡¯

    This wasn¡¯t his business. I¡¯d given my word, then tried to flee like a coward. That was the kind of thing that put shame in a man¡¯s blood. I wasn¡¯t raised like that.

    Cowardice breeds weakness. Weakness invites death. I¡¯d seen it enough times back home.

    I¡¯d hunted with men like that¡ªthe few men in my village who did more than drinking, sleeping, and scavenging for scraps. Men much older than I was.

    Hesitation today meant a knife in the back tomorrow. No, I¡¯d made my choice, and I¡¯d see it through, no matter the cost.

    He patted my shoulder. ¡°Fine, but if you can¡¯t get the beavers, just say so. You¡¯re young, no one expects you to get it right the first few times.

    <hr>

    I nodded my head. ¡°Will you be able to make the stakes, though?

    He sighed. ¡°I have a few in the back. If you want more than that, I¡¯ll have to get my apprentices to make them. Can you wait?

    If there are enough stakes, there¡¯s no use in waiting. Can you show me then?

    It turns out there were enough stakes. Good. Then I didn¡¯t have to wait

    It was time to hunt.

    The first thing I¡¯d have to do was prepare the traps.

    The best place was to put them at one of the spots the beaver had previously hunted at. That way it wouldn¡¯t come looking for me. At least not yet. It would expect me at the places that still had beavers

    I set up 3 traps, all close to each other and one on the other side of the river.

    I needed to find the spirit beast¡¯s children. I waited until I was certain it had gone hunting. I wouldn¡¯t risk meeting it when it was hungry and next to its kids.

    For the next three days, I hunted beavers as usual, noting every time the spirit beast came around me, stealing my hunts, leaving specific body parts.

    I¡¯d check the time of day, how everything got quiet as it came nearer. It was now or never, I wouldn¡¯t get much more information just letting the beast stalk me.

    Not to mention the nerves clawing at me every time that thing came close. Would it kill me this time? My hands trembled, gripping my knife tighter every time it got near, the blade wobbling against my palm, I could hear it making a weird sound¡ª- ¡°Oruuk, oruuk, oruuk,¡± it was laughing at me!

    But I forced myself to wait.

    Now, it was time.

    It was a full day before I was sure the spirit beast had left to go hunt. As someone who had been stalked by the thing, I was starting to become fairly sure of its habits.

    I made sure to not waste any time. I had to be quick.

    I knew that the beast kept its cubs next to the water. The first spot I checked was the place where I had first met it all those days ago.

    Nothing.

    The second place was the jackpot.

    It was a litter of five. All yipping and bleeping, expecting food, I could see the rotting pieces of flesh and fish scales glinting in the muck, surrounding the den, flesh buzzing with flies. It smelt disgusting.

    I sucked in a deep breath, too eager to think, then gagged as the stench hit me¡ªfoul air, thick with decay.

    I retched and coughed, spitting up globs of saliva, quickly quieting myself, I was still on a hunt. This was a rookie mistake, the nerves were getting to me.

    Thankfully, I had brought a rag, sadly it wouldn¡¯t be going over my face, I¡¯d be using it to hold the baby spirit beasts.

    Hurriedly I wrapped the rag around my hand instead of my face to scoop up the cubs. Did they count as spirit beasts as well? They didn¡¯t feel like their mother.

    I shoved the thoughts away as I leaned down, forcing my trembling hands to still. Now or never, then scooped up the kid beasts. They yipped louder, squirming in my grasp as they realised I wasn¡¯t their mother, their tiny bodies warm against my palms. I rarely killed the young¡ªthere wasn¡¯t enough meat to make it worthwhile. Better to wait until they matured. But leaving them behind wasn¡¯t an option. Not this time. I exhaled slowly, tightening my grip.

    Even if I managed to kill their mother, If I let them live, would they come back for revenge one day? Would they learn, grow stronger¡ªhunt me as I had hunted their kind? I had seen it happen before. Many beasts were vindictive, especially if they saw you as a weaker form of predator. ¡®I might have to kill these ones.¡¯

    I ran back to the traps where I¡¯d left my hunting gear, making sure to drop pieces of fur I tore off the unwilling beasts along the way, and little nicks of blood from the young things.

    It wasn¡¯t my proudest moment, but it was kill or be killed now, and I wasn¡¯t in the mood to die, at least not without making the price on my head very expensive.

    Not too long after, I was at the trap site, chest heaving, I huffed, sparing only a few seconds to catch my breath. I forced myself to move fast, carefully placing each one in a trap, keeping one with me, strapped to my body.

    A small relief settled over me¡ªI was glad I hadn¡¯t killed them yet ¡ªuntil a sudden yip shattered it.

    Something behind me let out a loud sound. My stomach clenched. No!

    I forced my legs to move faster. My lungs burned, my breath ragged. My hunting equipment was just ahead¡ªjust a few more steps.

    Behind me, the beast¡¯s footsteps slammed into the dirt. Closer. Closer. My heart trembled with each step I heard. My breath ragged in my chest. A wet, rasping sound¡ªits gills flaring¡ªsent a shiver up my spine. My legs burned, I wasn¡¯t going to make it in time.

    DUNNN! A sudden shrill cry, sent my body reeling.

    My head shook. My heart slammed against my ribs. I could only hear a high-pitched ringing in my ears

    ¡°EIAAAAA¡±¡±¡±.

    My vision blurred. The beast shrieked behind me, a mix of rage and pain. The first trap! The beast had fallen for the first trap, good, I had some more time before¡ª¡ª

    TRASSSSS¡­¡­! I looked back to see mist coming off the beast.

    ¡®What was that?¡¯

    A sickening crack. The beast had torn free. Blood dripped from its side, a jagged piece of the stake still lodged in its flesh. More mist coming from its wound, the bleeding slowing unnaturally fast¡ªas if the mist itself was sealing it shut. It wasn¡¯t stopping.

    I pushed forward, staggering toward my gear¡ª

 Chapter 19

    Desperately, I pushed with my toes, tearing through the cheap material of my shoe, calf stretching unnaturally, I felt a crack in at least four of my toes, but it didn¡¯t matter.

    I had my bag- bloody skies, I had my bag. I quickly ruffled through it, feeling for¡ª-¡¯ Where was my knife? The sharp one? The one used to kill? I had stupidly left with the dull one. Number one rule of hunting. You never move around unarmed, and a dull weapon is almost as bad as none.¡¯

    ¡°Skreeeeeee¡± The beast lurched

    It was on my back¡ªneck. No!

    I turned around placing my bag in between its sharp teeth, I had never noticed them in such detail. They were yellow. I don''t know why I remembered that detail.

    It had foul breath, and a long scaly tongue, it was blue. Why was I noticing these things?

    The bag prolonged my knife, but only for a few seconds. The beast had its fangs through the material. Damn it. This was from my father. It had to pay, I pushed against the beast¡¯s maws, using the bag as a sort of shield.

    Bad idea. Did I mention its scaly tongue before? Turns out it was flexible. The thing wrapped its tongue around my right arm, my dominant arm¡­ and licked.

    ¡°AAAAH.¡± The pain was like being burnt with boiling oil, smoke steamed off my skin. I was angry. Definitely angry, but scared. It was stupid to come out here, what did it matter if I was a coward? Cowards lived long, didn¡¯t they?

    But, No, I had let my pride let me get stuck here. And now, I had to fight

    Fight or die

    No. Win or die

    I tried to kick the beast but it wasn''t long enough to reach my feet, I was hitting nothing. The place had gone quiet, predators and prey alike fleeing the area.

    Should tell you how much sense I had.

    I was effectively grasping at the air here, I had to find a way. I rolled, and pushed, why was this thing so strong? It felt like a grown man packed into a small beast.

    Finally, I had it on its back, Tongue still on my arm, steam broiling off, the bag quickly tearing away, and malicious hate in the spirit beast''s eyes. I crossed a line with its children, I shouldn¡¯t have.

    But it had crossed a line with me as well, and one of the things you learn whilst out in the wild, is its kill or be killed. Predator or prey.

    I¡¯d seen it multiple times, when the wolf cub was alone, or the leopard had gone off to hunt for its cubs, a wild boar, maybe even a chimp, they¡¯d take their chance, and stomp out their lives. Stomp out a threat.

    We were doing the same, but today it was clear who was predator or prey.

    I pushed, as hard as I could, dragging the spirit beast across the ground, over as many sharp, jagged rocks I could find, finally coming to a stop, pounding the top of its head on a wide tree, leaves and fruits fell alike, it was like a play.

    But this was real life, I had just enraged the beast. It got stronger, somehow.

    I was really running headfirst into a patch of bad luck. It let go of the bag. Quickly, it ran up and around the tree, bark flying off like flakes. It was in the branches now.

    I couldn¡¯t see it.

    My luck had just gotten worse. Quickly I rummaged through the torn-up bag, hands fumbling over and missing the very thing I was looking for in my nervousness.

    All the while, I could hear the beast in the branches, like a dagger in the knight, stalking me.

    Finally! I had found it, I hastily pulled it out of the bag with my left hand, it hurt too much to use my right. In the process I cut my hand, fresh blood spilling out moments later.

    I couldn''t spend time on the hand, I switched to my right, arm screaming in agony, pulses of raw pain hitting me like the waves of a river.

    If I survived this, I was going to keep that thing¡¯s head above the door to my house.

    I had forgotten one thing, the beast¡¯s screech. It shrieked ¡°Eiiiaaaaaa¡±. I had trembled, struggling to hold on to the knife through the shock and the pain, I had to resist the urge to cover my bleeding ears.

    The beast jumped, but slower now, with an almost graceful laziness, or exhaustion, its movements still, effortlessly exuding power, like a tired bear.

    Damn it.

    I almost closed my eyes, but years of training and experience kept them open. The beast didn''t care, it coked its head to the side, dodging the blade. It was on my right arm again.

    ¡®Hssshhh¡± I hissed.

    But it was slower now, its teeth a darker shade, almost like a burnt yellow. Its tongue was so blue it was purple.

    What was happening? It definitely is not my knife. That thing had harmed me more than it.

    I shook my arm as hard as I could, which was a worse idea, it only tore through more muscle, There was no bag in between us now. Not that it would have helped.

    It was poisoned!!!!! I had covered all the stakes in oakres blood!! I was a genius!!!!

    Thank you past me!!

    Now, I just had to outlast it, then I remembered what Yao Po had said. This thing would probably outlast me, and outlive me too.

    I was betting against time, and I''d never heard of someone who won. I wasn''t a cultivator.

    I had to play a different game.

    I ran toward a boulder, smashing the beast against it. I took my left hand, still bleeding, and held the knife in my other hand, it was useless with the beast so close to it.

    But I had forgotten that the thing was smart. It immediately started kicking and scratching with its claws, like a dog held by the scruff of its neck, or a cat, a cat was better, the thing was just much worse. Magnitudes worse.

    I switched the dagger to my left hand and stabbed the beast, it groaned a muffled cry, but still refused to let go. Smart move,

    But I didn''t care that the wound was already starting to steam. It was healing. I was going to stab again.

    Then it finally caught me, the claw on its back foot it had leaned back enough, even with the boulder behind it, to raise its foot far enough to touch my neck, I pulled back immediately, only for its sword-like claw to drag a long, vertical line from the top of my chest to my belly.

    I inch more, 1 c¨´n, and I''d be dead,

    It had let go of my hand at this point, and we were both catching our breath, but I wouldn''t have any more breath to catch if I was dead.

    ¡®Maybe, just maybe, if I could keep it underwater, it would be enough to kill it¡ªor give me a fighting chance.¡¯ I rushed forward, grabbed it by its neck, then ran towards the river. I was going to drown it.

    I sunk the beast in, bubbles forming on the surface. It was struggling. Good. I couldn¡¯t keep this up for much longer, Every ounce of strength I was using was another struggle I had to win.

    ¡®It was¡­ wait.¡¯

    It wasn¡¯t struggling, it was positioning itself properly, this was an aquatic beast. I was an idiot!

    I was going to drown.

    The thing dragged me in.

    Its scarred lips curled, revealing more of its teeth, bubbles leaving its mouth quickly and periodically,

    I wasn''t deep enough yet, I could still fight back.

    I tried to pull away, to come up for air. To run. The beast wasn''t having that it dragged me deeper, farther into the river.

    Has it always been this deep?

    Why was it so fast? My knife was still in my hand, I tried to stab, but then it started spinning, and I spun with it. Slowly at first, the faster.

    I was going to drown.

    I kept stabbing, but it hit air or water, I didn''t know, I was functionally blind, the blood from my wounds mixing into the water to create a small spot in the river, blurring out both are visions like nature had created an arena just for us.

    May the best man win.

    I couldn''t stop spinning, so I kicked out, my other hand flailing along with the rest of my body, I was rapidly going closer to the middle of the river, catching a current.

    Was this how all those beavers felt?

    No, I had to look for something, I had to get out of this.

    Stolen story; please report.

    I had to get air¨CI nee-

    A branch, a thin but long one. Roots still attached to the banks of the water, it felt like it had appeared at just the right time. Like a spectator throwing a handful of dust at the other fighter''s eyes in a fight.

    I held on to it for dear life. Trying to pull myself up for air.

    The beast stopped spinning, mostly because I was holding on to the branch too tight for it to spin me anymore, so, instead, it tugged harder.

    I feel like my hand had been caught in one of those windmills, my arm was being pulled out of its socket,

    I Was like a man chained between two pillars, one representing life and the other representing death. I chose life.

    I pulled myself up, as far as up was concerned, I couldn''t tell. Only the tip of my nose coming up confirming my efforts. I choked on the water I inhaled. But I couldn''t cough, that would only bring in more water. Death.

    I raised myself up again using the branch as a way to help myself up, the beast pulling down, every so often. Tugging, to null my efforts,

    ¡°Suuuh¡± I inhaled.

    Air

    It tasted so good, but then I was dragged in again, this thing was relentless, and so was I. I pulled harder on the branch, not to get up for more air, but to get closer to the bank. I was too close to the river''s main current, if I got in, I would never get out.

    I pulled, a root tearing out of the riverside, I had to hurry, this wasn''t going to last much longer, the beast kept tugging, but with less strength, I was winning,

    Take that time!

    But that was a bit too early, I was running out of breath again, If I got out of the water again, the beast would attack some other part of my body, and his time it would be lethal, I could see it in the things eyes, as the water cleared.

    This was my last chance,

    I pulled using only one hand timing my pulls for whenever the beast paused to regain strength for its next tug.

    Inch, by a terrible inch, I got closer, and so did the beast, it was coming up my arm. This wasn¡¯t going to work, I had to stake it all on this next tug.

    I waited for the beast to tug again.

    Tug,

    I waited, I had to let loose enough strength and hope for it to be enough

    Tug

    I was running out of breath

    Tug

    This thing''s eyes were boring into me. Wondering what I was doing? Was I giving up?

    Tug

    Here. it was here, it was far weaker this time

    But I was almost delirious, my lungs pushing against my chest, forcing my body to inhale air.

    I pulled,

    Strength coming out of nowhere, maybe it was the last kick of a dying man, but it was enough. I was on the shallow side now. I ran out, the water weighing me down, far more than I imagined, we had both bled but most of that was from me.

    I dropped onto the ground, the banks of the river, half of my body still submerged, but now, I had air. Glorious air,

    The beast, however, was far more energetic than I was, seeing me at such a weak point, it let go of my hand, stomping its way to my head, I angled my body away from it, as it aimed for my head, making sure it was always facing my legs, but that now meant my head was getting closer to the water.

    I had to get rid of this thing, but I couldn''t take my eyes off it, I had to find something to kill it.

    The traps, id made sure to build them close to the rover, where where¡­Aha!!

    Now I was angling towards the trap, the beats didn''t realize, still stalking me, thinking I''d be stupid enough to put my head in the water again.

    Just a little more, a bit more. A bit more,

    Then I scrunched my body up and kicked, the beast realized too late as it tried to run. I kicked it towards the trap, and it skidded towards the trap, frantically trying to use it claws tp stop it. But the water dripping from it had made the already wet bank muddy, and it constantly turning the mud over with its claws didn''t help. It slipped,

    ¡°Yaaaaaaaooooowwwww¡± It was in again, but it''d be out just as spoon

    Where was my knife? It was beside me. It had fallen to my side as I ran out of the water, I was just glad the water tide didn''t swallow it and brought it in.

    I ran towards the other trap, the one where I had kept its children.

    Before that the beast was out again, this time the meat coming of it had turned grey instead of white,I opened the cub out of the trap, and just as the beast got behind me

    It paused. Eyeing the cub in my right hand, mangled as it was, and the knife in my other.

    I wasn''t going to let the beast get out of here alive, but it''d kill me if I killed the cub, I was too slow to be able to run over to the other traps to get more.

    We were at a standoff, but I couldn''t wait it out, time was on the beast''s side, doubly poisoned as it was.

    I had to do something. But what?

    My arrows and bow weren''t anywhere close, and the beast would be upon me before I could use it.

    Water dripped from my brow.

    The beast took a step forward. I took a step back

    Dagger in hand held out, if I could see myself doubt I¡¯d seem very intimidating,

    ¡°Yip yip¡±

    I whipped my head around to the noise, as did the beast, it was the other cub, the one I had kept on me instead of keeping in a trap, it was the bigger of all the beasts, with clearer eyes, and darker gills.

    It ran and jumped onto my leg, nibbling it with its underdeveloped fangs.

    The beast took this moment of unawareness to pounce, but I didn''t survive years of hunting in the forests and wilderness to be that unobservant.

    I watch it out of the corner of my eye. Closer, I wanted it to be closer, this was my one chance. If I missed this I''d be as good as dead, all the beast would have to do was wait.

    I whipped around, dagger like a scythe, I was going to take this thing''s life away.

    I plunged the dagger into its throat, its momentum pulling it deeper into my life-sucking embrace.

    I dropped the club was holding, the other one still nibbling on my leg, yipping louder as if that would help its mom,

    I held the back of its head, pushing my dagger deeper, I''d make sure this thing could never bother me again.

    The little nibbler yipped, louder this time, actually drawing blood.

    The beast struggled, moving its body in short energetic spasms, but I didn''t have the time to wait, its mist coming out again, trying to heal it through the wound, but it wasn''t healing around the knife.

    I pulled my knife out, arm throbbing at the back of its nape, then slit its throat with my left.

    All the cubs started to yip now. Loudly. The one that drew blood yipping the loudest. It was dead

    I dropped to my knees. Boddy next to me, its eyes wide open,

    The two cubs¡ªout of the trap surrounding the mother.

    I won.

    At the scene of death and destruction, I stood victorious, the cub¡¯s yips irrelevant.

    **This world was cruel, I¡¯d write years later¡ªand I¡¯d have to grow crueler to survive it, to rule it.**

    ¡°Hahahahha!¡±

    I burst out in maniacal laughter, not at the beast but in the face of The Skies.

    My enemy lay severed at my feet.

    No cultivator, no emperor, just me¡ªan orphaned hunter spitting at fate.

    What mortal had killed spirit beasts like me?

    What mortal had spit in the face of his destiny like I had?

    I may not be equal to the cultivators, but I couldn¡¯t be just a nobody anymore. I was a spirit beast killer.

    ¡°Hahahahaha.¡±

    I took a few minutes to myself, ripping strips from my mangled clothes to wrap around the wound on my arm. I stopped the bleeding¡ªwell, slowed it, now it was like a deeply crimson red flower, slowly blooming as it seeped through the makeshift dressing.

    But, every twitch of my arm sent bolts of raising fire up my nerves. I smashed my teeth together, the lesser pain distracting me from the greater one. Cub by cub, I pulled the little spirit beasts from the traps. Their palm-sized bodies squirmed against my loose grip and set them next to their mother. Well, except for the biter¡ª- I chose to call him Chi Ya.

    Cruel? Yes. Efficient? Most definitely.

    But that brought in a different question.

    *******************************************************

    Should I kill them? I looked at Chi Ya. Its eyes glinted with what looked like some sort of awareness.

    What if it remembered? What if these were the vindictive type of spirit beast? Tracking me down years from now?

    Were these even spirit beasts? Would they grow into one?

    Those were questions for another day¡ªleave it up to Azul to decide.

    He could sell them or kill them. That didn''t matter now. They were his problem.

    The wildlife around here had fled, but with so much blood around here, scavengers would be all over the place soon.

    I couldn''t make a sled, not with all the damage to my right arm and the constant shivers. So I improvised.

    ¡®Why was it so cold?¡¯

    I stuffed the spirit beast¡¯s corpse into what was left of the sack¡ªthe bag my father had made me. Its weight dragging at my good arm, at least I had gotten some revenge, and tucked the cubs in close.

    Chi Ya went in with its mother¡ªmy ethics be damned, I wasn¡¯t coddling these things, especially not the nibbler.

    I almost didn¡¯t walk back, the thought alone daunting, filling my mind and body with more exhaustion.

    I trudged through the forest, making sure to move as fast as I could with blood still flowing off my torso and other wounds dripping onto the dirt underneath me, creating a trail of puddles wherever I walked, my right arm still throbbing, and the feeling of burning remaining the same, but I forced myself to move, clutching the sack tighter.

    With such a clear path to me, I would have thought the predators would have tried to do something harmful. But they knew better than that.

    I smelt of spirit beast blood.

    By the time the city gates came into view, it was still early, my breath was ragged, steaming the morning air.

    Every inhale tasted like copper and sweat¡­and mud. The guards were at the gate. This time I only saw Jerki and not Michael.

    I waved from afar, a frail swipe of my hand, but they couldn¡¯t see me, Jerki, and the other guard having some conversation. No doubt it was about either women, food, or bribes.

    ¡°Heeey¡± I hollered, voice hoarse. ¡°You guys have a cart?¡±

    They perked up, eyes narrowing against the dim torches of the night, wary of any danger before realizing it was me.

    I had become some sort of a familiar face, having to constantly run around hunting and hauling things back.

    They waited for me to come nearer though, none of them stepping forward. Letting me stumble closer.

    ¡°When did you leave? We haven''t seen you in days,¡± the nameless one said.

    I glared at the soldier, I didn''t know his name. But I didn''t like his attitude. Maybe it was the blood loss.

    ¡°Hunting¡±

    ¡°Hunting, eh? What for?¡±

    Jerki held him aside ¡°Let the guy go,¡± he shook his head, then fixed me with a look, Michael and I haven''t taken you up on your offer yet. I hope you haven¡¯t forgotten¡±

    ¡°I was just wondering when you guys would come by.¡± I wasn¡¯t. That was a lie.

    He raised an eyebrow. ¡°Hmmph¡± head in

    The one good thing about being so early was that there were barely any people around. Sure it was dark, but my eyes had adjusted to seeing in the dark for a while now. It wasn¡¯t too hard to find my way to Azul¡¯s tannery.

    This time, he was there, working some late-night job. I didn''t care, just wanted to lie down, my head was heavy. Like it was made of metal.

    I raised my hand to knock but he noticed me first, through the window.

    ¡°Ah,¡± he ran forward, opening the door hastily and dragging me in, not noticing that he had blood on his hands now.

    He looked around, for a bit, figuring out something to say, hesitating, ¡°...all this from some beavers?¡±

    I shook my head, too exhausted to speak. ¡®Where had my energy gone?¡¯

    I had some stacked away beaver carcasses from when I was hunting the spirit beast, some of them should still be in good condition. This would just have to do.

    I dropped the makeshift sack at his feet, Chi Ya and its mother spilling out of it, and the other cubs falling after it¡ªthe ones I had tucked away in my arm, out of sight,

    My knees crumbled. Then, the floor started rising upwards. What was happening? Another fight?

    But I was so¡­worn¡­out.