Months, and weeks on end of hunting in the forest, had made minding my own business second nature. Yet here I was , trying to pry a tale out of a stranger ...maybe I was craving some human interaction. Was this loneliness? Boredom. Either way, I didn't like it.
In this world of cultivators, prying into another's affairs was a fine way to get yourself killed. But Hoffnung didn't seem to care. He met my gaze with a wistful smile, words spilling out as if he had been holding them in for years...
"Four 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 chance to spend the day together and visited the market as a family—my mother, father, and then us three siblings. We were just going through the market, spending time together..."
The Humilis market hummed—bread and fruit scents mixed with laughter of kids.
But joy never lasted long.
Hoffnung clung to his mother's warmth as she walked hand in hand with him, her laughter lighting up the faces of everyone they passed.
Amid the bustling market, Marianna's grace was captivating, turning heads as they passed.
From afar, as he passed through the shadows of a stall, accompanied by numerous people, an old man's gaze bored into the family unnoticed, it was sharp and unnerving. His bald head gleamed, gray hair falling past a smirking beard.
Even the hawker beside him shied away, his head bowed as if to avoid inviting trouble.
His sunken eyes, fixated on Marianna with a fierce hunger, his movements were slow, deliberate- like a predator playing with his prey.There was a strange intensity to his gaze, as if he had finally found something he had been looking for."
Through the glint in his eyes, you could tell what type of man he was. He moved like he was sick, with ill concealed stealth, and eyes fixed on her radiant beauty.
The familiar buzzing of the market—its laughter, its joy—suddenly 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 before finally finding the source: the old man's piercing stare.
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 the small of his neck. Their eyes met in a single, shared moment and Henley turned to catch site of the weird man, before landing back on his son—a 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.
Henley's voice, usually filled with strength, now, echoed with fear. "Stay next to your siblings, Hoffnung."The urgency of the situation weighed heavily on his heart. His gaze flickering to the threat.
Hoffnung heard his father's words, not as a command, but a desperate, urgent, plea. He watched his father's hands, once so steady, clenched tight. The space between his brows pressed into folds.
Hoffnung froze, clenching his fists.
Stepping forward, Henley's protective instincts were at the forefront of his mind.
Marriana, sensing the impending danger, sought refuge behind a market stall, away from her husband and son as Henley shooed her away. 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 smile was replaced by a look of distress, cutting Hoffnung like a blade.
"Let go of her!" Hoffnung's voice echoed through the market, sharper than he expected, almost unrecognizable- an unexpected wellspring of courage surging within him. The words felt foreign coming from his mouth, but they were the only ones that seemed to matter in that moment. His chest tightened with a mix of fear and anger.
Henley advanced, fists clenched—instinct screaming.
The market froze 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 surged forward, his fists clenched tight. His body moved before his mind could catch up, raw instinct propelling him toward the threat.
Every fiber and muscle in his body tensed, their only purpose to shield his family from the looming threat.
The old man struck Henley fast—sent him tumbling into fruit stalls.
The market fell silent, its previously lively hum, replaced by the collective gasp of onlookers. They didn't allow him room to breathe as they went up to him. Henley struggled to get up.
It was undeniable now—this man was a cultivator, and his presence had shattered the peace of the once vibrant market. A silence, descended upon the villagers as they dared not offend the powerful cultivator in their midst.
Hoffnung, his young heart beating 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.
Henley staggered back, breath ragged, blood mingling with the dirt that stained his face.
Hoffnung's body ached, his vision blurring with rage as he looked on helplessly, a sinking feeling, slowly settling in his gut—a cold realization that he did not want to acknowledge.
His father, who always seemed strong, now kneeling, bloodied, his back bent in a way Hoffnung had never seen before.
This wasn't a fight—it was a reminder of how fragile they were. Hoffnung's heart squeezed painfully in his chest. He had always looked up to his father as unbreakable, but now... the truth bore down on him: against the might of cultivators, they were nothing.
An official, fat with the stolen taxes of the people and bribery, quickly came up. How could his esteemed guests be doling out punishment to peasants like this? What would people say about him if word got around?
What about his reputation?
He stepped in front of the balding man, "Senior, you must not tire yourself like this. Look," he bent and patted some of the dust of the elderly man, "you are getting dirty." The smile on the official's face turned more and more servile.
"I'll let my people handle their punishments. Don't worry."
Hoffnung, naively unaware of his place, screamed, "They started it!"
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 moment he had orchestrated.
Rage, however, transformed the official's face, it was like he was two different people. "How dare you, guards taking them to the whipping posts!" He turned around to look at the elderly man, who by now had stoped focusing on Henley, he pulled out a wooden box from the fold's of his robe, "Senior Gao Lan, this box contains-"
"Imperial Dragon Fruit, I can smell it through the box. A wonderful gift"
The guards dragged Henley and Hoffnung to the whipping post, the official and Gao Lan close behind.
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, 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 clenched his jaw, 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's lips curled into a thinner, more cruel smile. "For every one hundred lashes your father takes, you'll be spared one," he drawled, his tone dripping with bliss. The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. Hoffnung's stomach churned as the first lash struck, his father's cry piercing through the silent crowd like a blade. Each strike echoed in Hoffnung's ears, a cruel reminder of his own powerlessness.
Hoffnung endured fifty lashes, but his father, exhausted and broken, collapsed.
No one dared to do a thing, the whole market frozen in fear till the cultivator and the official left, satisfied, their cruel laughter lingering like dark clouds with Henley's mother in tow. Only then did they dare to move, rushing towards the father-son duo with hushed whispers of encouragement and sympathy.
"Quick, make way, the healer is here!"
The village healer, Kim, came quickly, caring for Henley's injuries with gentle hands, but the damage had been done.
As the days passed, it became evident that Henley's slightly hunched back , was going to be permanent and would serve as a lasting reminder of their ordeal.
The next morning, Hoffnung stirred from restless sleep, his thoughts clouded with the memories of yesterday. The weight of his father's suffering still pressed on his chest, but he shook it off, focusing on the tasks ahead.
He never said anything about it, but sometimes, his son could see it, when Hoffnung would catch the flicker in his father's eyes.The sharp pain that crossed his face when he thought no one was looking. The way his shoulders slumped, just a fraction of an inch, but it was enough for Hoffnung to see.
He never spoke of it. But when he looked at his father, he saw the pain hiding behind his eyes, the weight of helplessness pressing down on him.
But there was no regret.
"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 smirk deepened. He didn't have to say it. Tragedy was common. The difference was what came next.
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, lazybones,' Hoffnung said, his voice cracking slightly despite the smirk on his face. He nudged Khan with his boot, trying to mask the exhaustion creeping into his bones."
"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 camaraderie 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."
"'No need to ask twice,' Khan replied, rolling up his sleeves. 'Let's get to work.'" There was a spark in my eyes now, a silent understanding passing between us. 'The sooner we finish, the sooner we can focus on what really matters."
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 at least had some fights. Don't you have your own practice sets to do?"
"Not really, got like this of manual labor and hunting."
Henley sighed, "Sure, but don't expect it to help you much," he replied.
"Thanks."
He snorted and got up to teach me 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.
Her wrinkled face hid sharp eyes.
She was called Healer Kim.
The evening preceding the sect entrance exam was tight with a blend of excitement and trepidation. As the sun dipped below the horizon, whispers of anticipation filled the air.
Aspirants bristled with anticipation as the sect evaluation loomed closer. It was more than a mere examination for the would be test takers; it was a portal to a new realm. Where they were above mere humans, if only they could get through this first hurdle...