Haicheng gleamed like a treasure carved from the bones of giants.
Towering pagodas pierced the sky, their rooftops layered in spiritglass tiles that shimmered in blue and gold. Bridges floated across the air, suspended by enchantments long forgotten, and canals wound between the streets like veins filled with glowing koi. Incense smoke curled lazily from shrines built atop merchant rooftops, and songbirds—trained to mimic flutes—sang lullabies in the wind.
It was breathtaking.
But the beauty was only skin-deep.
Kai didn't need long to see the cracks. To feel them. The rich wore robes stitched with silver thread and walked with servants who cleared paths before them. The poor lined the outer walls, bundled in cloth too thin for shade, their gazes low and their backs bent. Everyone moved with urgency, like staying still too long would make them prey.
There was no balance here.
Only distance.
Power separated everything.
And it was always on display.
Kai wandered the mid-tier district, avoiding the highborn bridges and staying clear of beggars' alley. He kept his steps light, his eyes forward, his presence quiet.
But that still didn't stop him from seeing what the city truly was.
A few streets down, near a busy silk vendor, a scuffle broke out.
Kai stopped.
A boy—maybe ten—stood backed into a wall. Small. Skinny. Wearing clothes that had been mended more times than they were sewn. In front of him, a taller teenager—maybe sixteen—with slicked hair, rings on his fingers, and a family crest embroidered on his left sleeve: a serpent coiled around a fan.
Lesser nobility.
The older boy had one hand gripping the younger's collar. His voice was low, mocking.
"No papers, no sponsor, no clan. You don't belong in this district."
The child stammered. "I—I was just trying to sell—"
The teen shoved him against the wall.
Kai looked around.
No one moved.
People saw.
They always did.
But they kept walking. Eyes down. Pretending silence was safety.
He stepped forward.
"Let him go," Kai said evenly.
The noble's son turned. His smirk curled. "You his brother?"
"No."
"Then why the hell—"
Kai didn't give him the chance to finish.
He moved with efficiency, not rage. Slapped the boy's hand away from the child's chest, ducked beneath his retaliatory swing, and drove his elbow into the older teen's stomach. As the noble's son staggered, Kai twisted behind him, kicked out his knee, and drove his shoulder into the back of his ribs.
The boy hit the ground with a gasp.
Kai stood over him, not breathing hard.
The noble's son scrambled backward, clutching his side. "You're dead… you don't know who my father is!"
"I don't care."
The boy fled.
Kai turned to the smaller child, who stared up with awe and confusion. His lip was bleeding, but his hands were steady.
"You okay?" Kai asked.
The boy nodded. "Y-Yeah… thank you, sir."
"I'm not a sir."
"…What's your name?"
"Kai Jin."
The boy hesitated. Then offered his hand. "I'm Lian. You… you really saved me."
Kai looked at the hand for a long moment before taking it.
It was warm. Fragile. Honest.
"You shouldn't walk around alone," Kai said. "People like that… they don't stop."
"I wasn't alone," Lian said, looking up at him. "You were there."
That silenced Kai more than anything else could have.
The two walked together for a while, weaving through back alleys and quieter roads.
Lian talked freely. About the things he hated. The things he liked. The food stalls that served pickled ginger buns if you knocked twice, the shopkeeper who traded rice for feathers, and how the river spirits sometimes whispered if you threw copper into the eastern canal.
Eventually, Lian asked, "How old are you?"
Kai hesitated. Then answered, "Fourteen."
Lian blinked. "That's when you're supposed to start cultivating, right?"
"…Maybe."
"Will you?"
Kai didn't answer.
He didn't know how.
And for the first time, he wasn't sure if he even wanted to.
Above them, on the roof of an abandoned shrine overlooking the street, a figure crouched in the shadow of a broken bell.
Their robes were loose but refined — dark jade silk with a gray sash that carried no crest.
Their face was mostly hidden beneath a veil of black cloth.
But their eyes…
Their eyes never left Kai.
"Interesting," the figure murmured. Their voice was smooth. Low.
They hadn't just seen the fight.
They had seen the movement. The form. The control. The stillness before the strike.
Not training.
Instinct.
And something else.
They whispered into a small talisman, voice soft and deliberate.
"Confirming visual. Subject appears to be male, roughly fourteen. No apparent cultivation signature. Engaged and subdued a minor clan heir with zero delay. No hesitation. No spiritual output. No technique."
A pause.
"Requesting clearance for recruitment into outer branch. Potential latent root. Possibly veiled bloodline."
Another pause.
Then a flicker of blue light pulsed from the talisman.
Approval.
The figure rose, fading back into the haze of the city's spine.
Below, Kai and Lian laughed for the first time in days.
And far away, in the inner courts of an unnamed sect, someone began to write his name