As Jonathan began to regain consciousness, his vision blurred, and the world around him seemed distant and hazy. Gradually, the fog lifted, revealing the stunning scenery he was lying in.
He found himself on his back, his shirt discarded, while a mysterious woman knelt beside him, applying something to his wounds. The sting of the ointment seeped into his cuts, sparking brief flashes of pain.
Beside him were glass jars filled with various medicines and ointments, all neatly arranged. He glanced around the cave, instantly captivated by the magical aura it exuded. The walls shimmered with crystals in hues of violet, azure, and emerald, casting soft, ethereal light throughout. Not far away, a low fire crackled, where the woman had prepared both medicine and a warm meal.
Jonathan tried to move, but the woman extended a gentle hand to stop him.
"Stay still," she murmured softly. "Let the medicine settle. You're hurt worse than you think—you could make it worse by moving too soon."
"Ah…" Jonathan winced as the pain flared under her touch, but he forced himself to relax as she continued to tend to his injuries.
Once she finished cleaning his wounds, she drew out a round, blue pill from one of the jars and pressed it to his lips.
"Swallow this. It will help with the internal damage."
He obeyed, then looked up at her with faint recognition. "You're the woman from earlier—the one who saved us at the market."
She nodded, packing up her jars. "I was just there for supplies. Those men were being obnoxious, so I stepped in."
"And now you've saved me again. Are you my guardian angel, perhaps?" Jonathan asked with a touch of humor.
"Don't read into it," she replied with a casual indifference. "I was gathering herbs when I saw you fighting that Rhino. I needed something it had—the purple crystal on its hide—so helping you wasn't entirely selfless."
"Even so, you've saved me twice. Even if you don't tell me where you from but may I at least know your name?" Jonathan asked, curiosity plain in his tone.
Instead of answering, she walked to the fire, ladling soup from a pot before helping him sit up and offering him the bowl.
"What makes you think I'm not from around here?" she countered, studying him.
Jonathan managed a weak smile, glancing around the cave. "You live here. If you were local, you'd probably have a home or stay with family. This place looks temporary, like you're always moving…or maybe you haven't decided if you're going to settle. It's as if you're searching for something."
The woman paused, surprised by his insight, before giving a soft, amused hum. "For someone your age, you're observant."
Jonathan chuckled despite the pain. "Fighting might not be my strength, but I've always been good at using my mind. Besides, none of the families in our valley has ever produced a cultivator as powerful as you."
A faint smile crossed her lips, though she quickly hid it. "Where I'm from, I'd be considered average. Your valley must be full of slackers to think I'm anything impressive."
Her words left Jonathan in thoughtful silence. If she's average where she comes from, how powerful must the people there be?
---
Meanwhile, hours had passed since Jonathan had been sent on his errand, and his father, Mark Runner, was growing anxious.
"It's been too long. Where could that boy be?" he muttered to himself, casting worried glances down the street.
Just then, a group of men, led by three familiar figures from the market, marched to his gate and entered without invitation. Dressed in black, they emanated an intimidating, deadly aura—the unmistakable members of the Black Tied Sect, one of the most feared organizations in the region.
Mark's heart sank. These men were not here on friendly terms.
"Mark Runner," barked a stern, rough voice. "Do you and your family have a death wish? You've dared to offend the Black Tied Sect?"
The neighbors, now gathering to witness the spectacle, whispered among themselves.
"They've angered the Black Tied Sect. The Runner family's in trouble," murmured one bystander.
"What could they have done to deserve this?" whispered another, edging closer.
Mark, trying to stay composed, responded respectfully, "Mr. Shimmer, please clarify—how have we offended you?"
Mr. Shimmer pointed a scornful finger at his bruised men. "Your family humiliated my subordinates at the market today. You had them attacked to embarrass us!"
"Sir, we didn't provoke them," Mark said, desperately trying to deescalate. "A woman stepped in to stop their harassment; we had nothing to do with it."
But Mr. Shimmer sneered, unmoved. "Don't lie to me! You think I can't see through your tricks? You hired that woman to disgrace us."
Turning to his men, he gave the order with a cruel gleam in his eye. "Destroy everything. Show this family what it means to cross the Black Tied Sect."
Mark barely had a chance to plead before the men surged forward, smashing everything in their path and striking down Mark and his wife as their young daughter looked on in horror.