Unaware of Damien silently watching his back from the shadows, Little Yu stepped inside the small wooden hut nestled beneath the mountain’s protective embrace.
"i, I’m ho!" he called out gently, closing the door behind him with care, as though trying not to disturb the tranquility that lived within.
Almost instantly, the sound of light, hurried footsteps echoed across the creaking wooden floor. A tiny figure darted out from behind a tattered curtain, her movents brimming with energy. A little girl—no more than six or seven—ca running barefoot, dragging a well-loved stuffed rabbit along the dusty floorboards. Its seams had frayed, and one ear drooped sadly, but it was clear the toy had been hugged countless tis.
Her eyes sparkled like crescent moons, wide and full of joy as they t Yu’s gaze.
"Big brother! You’re finally back!" she bead, her tiny voice sweet as birdsong. "Did you bring the chocolate for ?"
She reached her delicate hand up with anticipation, her chubby fingers trembling slightly with excitent.
Yu’s smile faltered for just a breath—so faintly that only soone watching closely could have noticed. The warmth in his expression didn’t vanish, but a subtle tension tightened around his eyes.
In this world, chocolate had beco a luxury—an indulgence only the nobles could afford. Back when they’d lived in the city, tucked safely under their father’s roof, such a treat had been a common delight. Their small ho had always felt full—of safety, warmth, and the scent of sweetness wafting from their kitchen.
Yu had never known his mother, and his father never spoke of her. He didn’t know where their money ca from, nor had he ever asked. He only rembered that, no matter what, they had never gone hungry... and chocolate was never sothing to dream about—it had simply been there.
But everything changed a year ago.
One ordinary morning, their father had kissed i’s forehead and tousled Yu’s hair before heading out on his usual "work." That was the last ti they saw him.
He never returned.
Since then, things had spiraled. With no adult to shield them, the hungry stares of neighbors had turned dangerous—especially toward little i. Yu, just a child himself, had made the difficult choice. He gathered what little they had and vanished into the wilderness, settling at the fringes of civilization. It was the only place where greedy eyes didn’t follow.
As these thoughts flickered across his mind, his expression softened. He reached down and gently patted i’s head.
"Little i," he said with a bright grin, "all of Aunty Wang’s chocolate cakes were sold out today. But don’t worry! I’ll go even earlier tomorrow, and this ti, I’ll definitely bring one back for you."
His tone was light and reassuring, a shield forged from false promises and quiet desperation.
Yu lied through his teeth.
The girl’s complexion, which had slightly dimd, imdiately brightened as a beam of joy returned to her eyes. Without hesitation, she dashed forward and hugged Yu tightly, her small arms barely wrapping around his waist.
"Big brother is the best!" she chirped, her voice full of innocent delight.
But her joy didn’t last long. Little i’s soft brows furrowed as her gaze trailed over Yu’s arms, her sharp eyes catching sight of faint grazes and bruises.
"Brother, did you fall off the cliff again while collecting herbs?" she asked, tilting her head in concern.
Yu chuckled and nodded without hesitation. Injuries had beco such a frequent part of his return ho that the excuse had already carved itself into routine. ’Falling off a cliff while collecting herbs’—a lie so often repeated, it had almost started to feel like the truth.
As ti moved forward, the sun dipped below the horizon, and night fell quietly over the forested mountains. The hut was soon bathed in the soft glow of an oil lamp, its flickering fla casting dancing shadows on the wooden walls.
All this while, Damien stood silently outside, his presence unseen, his gaze unwavering.
He watched everything unfold from the darkness. The longer he observed, the heavier his heart beca, like soone had placed a cold stone inside his chest.
The bond between the siblings, their shared struggle, the quiet resilience—it reminded him of soone. His little sister.
He could still rember those hard days on the streets. Back then, he had been weak... emotionally fragile. He would lash out at the world, at fate, blaming everyone and everything for the ss his life had beco. As if words and anger alone could fix what was broken.
But maybe... if he had even a fraction of this boy’s resolve... just maybe his sister wouldn’t have had to suffer as she did.
Back inside the hut, Little i had finally run out of energy. After playing around under the oil lamp, she dozed off mid-hug, her arms clutched tightly around her worn stuffed toy as she lay curled on the cold wooden floor.
Yu gently picked her up, careful not to wake her. He laid her down on the only wooden bed in the room, adjusting the threadbare blanket over her small fra with a tenderness that could lt steel.
The hut fell quiet.
A few minutes passed in silence.
Then Yu exhaled slowly, as if releasing the weight of the entire day.
He stepped into the center of the room and lowered himself into a sturdy horse stance. His eyes focused, his expression calm.
"Although the noble kids interfered," he murmured to himself, "I was still able to watch the expert demonstrate the Imperial Fist movents once... and that was enough for to learn the skill."
With that, he began moving.
His fists punched through the air with sharp precision, each strike cutting through the silence. A faint whoosh followed each motion—a clear sign that the technique wasn’t just for show. The air around him stirred, trembling faintly under the rhythm of his breathing and the strength behind his movents.
It was rough. Unpolished.
But it held potential—raw, burning, defiant.
Like hot iron being forged under pressure, shaped not by privilege, but by desperation.
Outside, Damien’s eyes narrowed as he continued watching, a mix of admiration and unease flickering in his gaze.
This boy... was different.
The next mont, the air around Little Yu rippled faintly, trembling as if stirred by an invisible force. A soft, golden glow flickered to life just beneath his navel—his dantian—casting faint shadows across the dim interior of the small hut.
His eyes widened with disbelief, quickly giving way to a rare spark of genuine excitent. "I finally succeeded! Indeed, the Imperial Fist is a top-notch martial technique!"
The Imperial Fist—a foundational cultivation art publicly distributed by the Golden Dragon Empire—was considered the first true step on the path of spiritual refinent. Though it was available in theory to all, mastering it required talent, persistence, and most importantly... the opportunity to see it in action.
Although widely distributed but that didn’t an it was easy to master, it was one of the most difficult foundation skill yo learn, most of the kids gave up after failing one ti, it was still a mystery why the empire promoted such difficult technique.
So when word reached the outskirts that an imperial soldier would be demonstrating the technique in the plaza, Little Yu had sprinted down the mountain trail with all his strength. He arrived breathless, dirt-sared, and just in ti to catch the performance from a distance.
Even though the noble children had blocked his view and tried to chase him away, he had managed to steal a single, precious glimpse of the form.
And that glimpse alone had been enough.
Yu’s eyes burned with resolve as he took a steadying breath and punched forward again. His movent, though raw and unrefined, carried purpose. The faint glow in his abdon intensified—no longer a flicker, but a steady pulse, like a fla beginning to find its shape.
From the shadows beyond the wooden walls, Damien watched silently, the surprise in his eyes hardening into awe. "He’s refining his bones already? And from a single observation?"
His gaze narrowed.
From what he could gather, the boy had replicated the technique perfectly—through instinct, mory, and raw will. Just how monstrous was this child’s comprehension?
Then suddenly, Damien’s form jolted faintly, his spiritual perception flickering. An unfamiliar sensation washed over him—like a gust of wind carrying whispers from a distant past. Scattered fragnts of knowledge—abstract movents, breathing patterns, intricate postures—began to surge through his mind, slotting together piece by piece.
At first, it was a chaotic flood of images and words.
But as Yu continued his repetitive motion, each punch reverberating in the air, the fragnts began to align, forming sothing complete.
A technique.
Damien blinked slowly.
It was the Imperial Fist.
Sohow, by watching Yu, by witnessing his innate understanding made manifest, Damien himself had begun to unravel the very essence of the technique. Not through force or effort, but by resonance—by simply being there.
He had never encountered sothing like this before...
....
Reviews
All reviews (0)