"Huff… huff…"

"You little Prick comeback here!"

"Ahhh...huff..."

His legs burned, his chest heaved, and his vision blurred, but Hua Leng didn't stop. He couldn't. The sound of footsteps echoed behind him, closer with each passing second. Three men clad in dark robes pursued him with deadly precision. Their blades glinted in the moonlight, their expressions cold and unyielding.

Despite their skill and relentless pace, the boy managed to stay ahead. His father had trained him well, drilling speed and endurance into him for moments like this. Yet, even with his training, fear weighed him down. Fear of what would happen if he stopped.

The dirt road stretched ahead of him, winding through a field bathed in moonlight. Desperation clawed at his mind as he scanned for anything—anyone—that could help. That's when he saw it: a lone man on horseback, silhouetted against the night.

The man's appearance was unusual. He wore a long, tattered haori that fluttered in the breeze, a wide straw hat obscuring most of his face. A katana hung at his side, its polished scabbard catching the faint light.

Hua Leng stumbled forward, trying to cry out for help, but his voice was weak, lost in the cold air. His legs buckled beneath him, and he fell to the ground with a thud. Darkness crept in from the edges of his vision, and the last thing he saw was the man dismounting his horse, stepping closer with deliberate calm.

When Hua Leng woke, the first thing he noticed was the smell of wood smoke. The second was the unfamiliar bed he lay on—a crude structure made of roughly cut planks, covered with a thin blanket that barely kept out the cold.

He sat up slowly, wincing as a sharp ache shot through his ribs. His body felt like it had been dragged through the dirt, which, judging by the state of his clothes, it probably had. The room was small and sparsely furnished. A single oil lamp flickered on a nearby table, casting long shadows on the walls.

Hua Leng rubbed his temples, trying to piece together what had happened. The memory of running, the assassins, and the mysterious man all felt like fragments of a dream. His thoughts were interrupted by the creak of the door.

The man from the road stepped inside, carrying a bundle of firewood under one arm. His straw hat was tilted back, revealing a face weathered by years and a short beard peppered with gray. He set the firewood down and turned to Hua Leng.

"Awake, huh?" the man said, his voice rough but steady. "Good. You've been out for a while."

Hua Leng stared at him, unsure of what to say.

The man pulled up a stool and sat near the bed, resting his elbows on his knees. "Figured you'd be confused. Let me fill you in. I found you last night, being chased by three men. Assassins, from the looks of them. Took care of them before they could catch you."

Hua Leng's eyes widened. "You… killed them?"

The man nodded without hesitation. "They didn't give me much choice. Said something about torturing you. Didn't sit right with me, so I ended it."

"Torture…" Hua Leng whispered, his throat tightening.

"Yeah," the man replied. "Don't know what you did to piss them off, but they seemed determined to take you alive." He leaned back slightly, his gaze sharp. "So, kid. What's your name? And why were they after you?"

Hua Leng hesitated, his gaze dropping to his lap. The memories were still raw, but he owed this man an explanation. "My name is Hua Leng," he said quietly. "And… I don't know why they were chasing me. All I know is that everything started that night…"

The man raised an eyebrow. "What night?"

Leng closed his eyes, his hands trembling. "The night they came."

(Flashback)

It had started like any other night. Hua Leng lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts wandering aimlessly. His family's home was modest but warm, nestled in the heart of the village. The air was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves outside.

Then, a scream shattered the silence.

Leng bolted upright, his heart pounding. He recognized the voice—it was his mother.

He scrambled out of bed, his feet barely touching the floor as he ran to the door. Outside, chaos unfolded. Flames engulfed the houses, painting the night sky in shades of red and orange. Shadows moved swiftly through the streets, their blades glinting as they struck down anyone in their path.

Leng's legs moved on their own, carrying him toward the sound of his mother's scream. When he rounded the corner, he saw her. She lay motionless in the dirt, her once-bright eyes now dull and lifeless.

"Mother!" he cried, dropping to his knees beside her. He shook her shoulders, willing her to wake, but she didn't move.

Tears blurred his vision as he clung to her lifeless body. The world around him faded, his mind consumed by grief. But then, a shadow loomed over him. He looked up just in time to see a man dressed in black raise a sword.

Leng froze, fear rooting him to the spot. The blade began its descent, but before it could strike, another figure tackled the attacker.

It was his father.

Leng's father fought with a ferocity Hua Leng had never seen before. He disarmed the man with a brutal punch and finished him off with a sharp twist of the neck. But the victory came at a cost. Blood poured from a deep wound in his shoulder, and his left arm hung limp at his side.

"Leng," his father said, his voice strained. "You have to run."

"I… I can't leave you!" Leng sobbed.

"You have to!" his father shouted, grabbing his shoulders. "Listen to me. Run, and don't look back."

Before Leng could protest, another attacker appeared. Without hesitation, his father pushed Hua Leng away and shielded him from the blow. The blade struck true, and his father staggered, blood staining the dirt beneath him.

"Run!" he screamed, his voice breaking.

And so, Leng ran.

(End Flashback )

Hua Leng's voice cracked as he finished his story. His hands were clenched into fists, his knuckles white. "I… I didn't even get to say goodbye."

The man across from him let out a low whistle, leaning back on his stool. "Damn, kid. That's rough." He scratched the back of his head, looking awkward. "No wonder you were running like hell."

Leng looked down, his chest tight. "I don't even know why they attacked us. My family never did anything to deserve this."

The man sighed, his expression softening. "The world's full of bastards, kid. Sometimes they don't need a reason to ruin lives. But you're still here, and that means you've got a chance to figure it out."

Hua Leng glanced up at him. "Why… why did you help me?"

The man smirked, tilting his hat back slightly. "Didn't feel right, leaving a kid to die. Besides, those assassins pissed me off. Killing scum like that? It's practically a public service."

Leng's exhaustion finally caught up with him. His body sagged against the bed, and his eyelids grew heavy. The man watched him drift back into an uneasy sleep, muttering under his breath.

"Rest up, kid. You've got a long road ahead."