CHAPTER 9

“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—” The baker’s voice cracked, thick with snot and blood. “Just a bit more time! The taxes, I—”

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–” 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–no 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—please—” 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—though “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—yet 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—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.

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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–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.

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—Sunday, 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—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.

The girls hummed a tune, something they’d taken too as they played, their voices light and carefree. Khan recognized it immediately—a 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—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.

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—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.