Chapter 9

  “I’m sorry!” the baker screamed, desperation cracking his voice.

  Four men had dragged him from his bakery, demanding their money back. He didn’t have it—if he had that kind of money, he wouldn’t have borrowed to begin with. Loans don’t come cheap.

  Curled on the ground, hands shielding his neck, he scrambled through the piss-soaked filth littering the street, trying to escape. “I’ll have your money soon, please!” He clawed at a leg.

  “Bastard!” A boot slammed into his side. “Three months, not a copper!” The gang kept swinging—fists, sticks, whatever they grabbed.

  “Think we’re fools? Where’s our money?”

  “Please… I beg—” His voice broke, thick with snot and blood. A fist smashed his face. Bone crunched. Another blow sprawled him flat.

  “Taxes?” The leader sneered. “Do I look like a bookkeeper?”

  The baker snivelled, going into another round of begging and pleading. He whimpered, choking on pleas.

  The men paused, panting. “Fine, more time—but—”

  The baker lunged, bowing at their feet, filth-smeared. “Thank you, my lord!”

  The leader kicked him off. “Don’t interrupt! You owe us, and we’ll take something now.” His men smirked, eyes darkening.

  “I’ve got nothing,” the baker stammered, “but… fresh bread, morning and night, till I pay!”

  The leader grinned. “What say, boys?”

  “Boss, he owes us already—bread’s no deal,” one growled. “His wife, though… she’s a looker. A night with her?”

  Cold dread hit the baker. “No…” He turned to the bakery window where she peeked. “Go!”

  She bolted but tripped over a flour-dusted table. The gang laughed, closing in. “Men!” They quickly went over to fetch the scared woman.

  “I’m with child, please!” she cried.

  The crowd hushed. Passersby glanced, then scurried off, muttering about weather. One man hesitated, then dropped his gaze.

  The talkative thug stepped inside, boots thudding. She clutched the counter, knuckles white.

  “Fierce one, eh?” he chuckled.

  “No—” Rough hands yanked her wrist. She fought, but they dragged her out.

  The lead member, knelt down next to the baker, “We’ll bring her back tomorrow, eh?” He patted him on his shoulder reassuringly.

  ***

  Two days into the Awoken Moon Sect, Hoffnung’s dream was fraying.

  On the first day, he’d caught the eye of Elder Sun, the Tomes and Facilities elder—though “caught the eye” was a generous term. No one else had been willing to take him, talent or not. Elder Sun, weakest of the inner sect elders, got stuck with him. Left with the most mundane tomes—histories, maps, dead cultivators’ ramblings—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. Sect rules tethered them together, two rejects at odds.

  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.”

  Hypocrite. A century of effort, and Sun barely outstripped core disciples.

  ‘Easy words from a man who had spent a century achieving nothing. 'Power wasn’t everything? That was easy to say in a sect where no one had any to begin with'.

  They clung to outdated techniques, convinced their ancestors’ wisdom was enough—yet time after time, stronger sects dismissed them while theirs sat back and did nothing.

  Hoffnung clenched his fists. Staying meant stagnation.

  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—Hoffnung 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—cleaning latrines, tending to dangerous beasts—were designed to waste his time and energy.

  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.

  ***

  Four months in the city, Khan had carved a routine: farm, hunt, help Henley’s family. A necessary grind.

  The gang in the district was a grim reminder of how much money and power influenced life here. The way shopkeepers cowered at the gang’s presence, the quiet fear in the air whenever they were near—it wasn’t just because they were dangerous. They operated on behalf of someone higher up.

  Khan had seen it himself. The gang leader, the same one who threatened the baker, was known to take his orders from a distant noble.

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  But no one spoke of it openly. It was a dangerous subject, one that could cost you your life if you weren’t careful. Khan didn’t care much for the noble’s influence. He had his own ambitions, far more personal than the politics of the underworld

  Khan’s goals still burned strong. He was gradually building up the network and saving funds to reach cultivators. It was a long way off, but progress was progress."

  Hoffnung’s training plan hardened him. Extra coins bulked his frame—no longer the skinny, malnourished remnants of his old self.

  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–there 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, muscles strained his clothes, jaw sharp now.He’d sprouted inches, still shy of the district’s stunted average.

  Sunday, a rare half-day off, but it demanded quotas first.

  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.

  After a sweltering farm day, he and Henley fired up their barbecue. Locals swarmed—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. pots clanging for his catch. It built his reputation, and he didn’t mind—connections mattered.

  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.

  Attachment stung—his village proved it, abandoning him despite everything.

  The first time, wives and farmers clashed—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. shouting over shares—until the supervisor, vein throbbing, barked at Khan to quiet it.

  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—just 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—around enough to help, but always keeping a quiet distance.

  Khan trailed behind, hands folded behind his back, eyes scanning the street.

  There were times, like now, when he couldn’t shake the feeling that he didn’t belong. The bustling market, the easy camaraderie between Henley and his daughters—it was all a stark contrast to the life he had known before. But it was fleeting.

  The girls hummed his village tune, sparking a bitter flash. He clenched his jaw and turned away, his resolve hardening: attachment wasn’t worth the pain. He shook it off—roots were a risk.

  The oldest squealed at a lumicit—fist-sized, fiery orange with a golden shimmer, found only between the last few months of the year, when the lumicit ripened and was suitable to be eaten.

  The lumicit was a fiery orange fruit rumored to promote children’s growth, the fruit was a rare treat harvested from well-hidden groves guarded fiercely by beasts, a seasonal prize guarded by beasts. Others surged toward it as the sisters hit Henley with puppy eyes. He caved fast.

  “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—you 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—meat, chores, everything. I can’t let you spend more.”

  “They’re like my sisters now. It’s no trouble.”

  Henley looked at Khan– 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—whether it was obligation or something deeper—but 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—he’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—these 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—belonging.

  “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.

  Khan stared at the sleeping girls, their faces peaceful in the moonlight. For a moment, he allowed himself to feel it—the 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.

  Comments, Thoughts, Feedback?!

  P.S. If you see the "Edited" label above any chapter, it means the grammar, flow, pacing, and overall quality have been significantly improved. If you found a chapter tough to get through before, this is your cue to give it another shot—it should be much smoother now. As I continue to improve, these revisions will become less frequent, but I truly appreciate your patience and feedback!