Chapter 4 - A Big Problem

Luan wandered through the bustling streets of the town, his footsteps slow and unhurried as his gaze drifted over the familiar sights. The sounds of merchants calling out their wares and children laughing filled the air, yet his mind was far away. He walked without a clear destination, his thoughts consumed by a storm of questions and uncertainties. The world around him felt both distant and too close, a constant reminder of the limitations he was born into. 

He whispered to himself, his voice barely audible above the sounds of the bustling street, 'I've tried countless manuals from the library, sneaking in time and time again, but no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to cultivate any of them. It feels like I'm missing something—something that will allow me to break through. Maybe I just need to wait until I can reach the necessary strength.' His words hung in the air, a mixture of frustration and quiet determination. He knew that cultivating was not just about following techniques—it was about reaching a level of strength that could unlock the next step. Until then, he was stuck, waiting for that breakthrough to come

He continued, his voice barely rising above the noise of the town, "From everything I've learned, if a person doesn't have the right connections or isn't born into a family with influence in martial arts, they're bound to live an ordinary life. But now that I've turned six, most of the children from those noble families are already reaching the limit for cultivating martial arts, with some even surpassing 1,000 kg. They have the support of treasures and resources, making it easy for them. But me... if not, it seems I'll only live a life like Grandpa—just a small, unnoticed doctor in the corner of the world." His words carried a sense of both acceptance and quiet disappointment, as though he had already begun to come to terms with the reality of his limitations.

It wasn't that Luan disliked his grandpa's profession, which allowed him to help so many people. It was just that his own dream was to become a cultivator—a dream he had nurtured ever since he first learned about the world of cultivation. The idea of gaining strength, transcending ordinary limits, and carving out a name for himself in a world where power was everything had always captivated him.

As he walked through the bustling streets of the town, Luan spotted a group of children around his age, or perhaps a few years older. Their laughter echoed through the air, rich and carefree, as they strutted with an air of confidence. The children were dressed in finely tailored clothes, embroidered with intricate patterns that marked their noble status. The girls wore elegant robes in soft, pastel hues, adorned with delicate silver thread, while the boys sported richly dyed tunics, complete with gold clasps and cuffs. Their faces were flushed with youth, but their expressions held a sense of superiority typical of those born into power.

Seeing them, Luan instinctively tried to change his path, hoping to avoid an encounter. But just as he turned, a voice called out to him, halting him in his tracks.

"Oh! Isn't that the little thief, Luan?" came a mocking voice from the group.

Luan tried to ignore them, hoping they'd lose interest and let him pass by. But before he could take another step, he felt a firm hand grip his shoulder. With surprising strength, the hand shoved him to the ground. Luan stumbled and fell hard, the rough stone beneath scraping his palms.

The hand that had thrown him belonged to one of the older boys in the group. He wasn't particularly striking, with a face that could be described as mediocre at best—light brown hair, dark black eyes, and a plain demeanor that lacked any remarkable features. Yet, his attire told a different story. He wore an elaborate tunic, crafted from expensive fabric, with gold stitching along the seams. His clothes were a clear marker of his status, signaling that he hailed from one of the wealthiest families in the city.

The others in the group snickered, their eyes gleaming with amusement as they watched Luan struggle to rise.

"I thought our little friend would like to meet us," said the boy who stood at the front of the group. He was about six years old, and his attire alone was enough to mark him as belonging to one of the most powerful families in town. His clothes were of the finest silk, richly embroidered with intricate patterns of gold. The other children stood quietly behind him, their expressions filled with respect and admiration. It was clear that the boy's family held immense influence in the city, and his stature among them was unquestionable.

Luan, rising to his feet, shot a defiant glance at the boy. "Leon, what do you think? Just because your father is the mayor of this town, the most powerful man here, does that mean you can do whatever you want to the people living in it?" His voice carried a hint of bitterness, the weight of the reality he faced pressing down on him.

"You, the grandchild of a small-time doctor, actually have the guts to speak to me like that?" Leon's voice dripped with disdain as he looked down at Luan, his cold smile widening. "Have you forgotten your place? You even dare to sneak into a school meant only for future cultivators like us, trying to learn about a world that's beyond your reach?" His words were sharp, each one designed to remind Luan of his status and place in the world, far below Leon's lofty position. The sneer on his face only deepened as he saw the defiance in Luan's eyes.

"Maybe I don't come from some prestigious background," Luan replied, his voice tense with anger. His face was set in a determined expression, and his eyes burned with a seriousness that startled even Leon. "But you need to remember one thing: you can mock me all you want, but you will never mock my grandfather."

For the first time, Luan's voice carried a deep conviction, an edge of defiance that he hadn't shown before. He had endured Leon's taunts, his insults, and the constant belittling—all in silence, for the sake of the old doctor. But this time was different. The thought of anyone speaking ill of the man who had raised him, loved him like his own, pushed Luan beyond his limits. He was ready to face whatever consequences came next.

Leon's cold smile widened as he looked down at Luan. "A small-time doctor, huh? What does he even know about healing? He's probably just some backwater healer, stumbling around in a village, playing with herbs." He paused, savoring the moment. "And you, Luan? Abandoned by your own parents and picked up by that old fool. Must be nice to have someone take pity on you when no one else wanted you."

The words were sharp, each one designed to wound, as Leon savored the power he felt over the situation.

Leon's sneer deepened as he took a step closer to Luan, his voice dripping with mockery. "What's it like to be a charity case, Luan? You weren't even worth keeping by your own parents. That old doctor must be desperate to take in some stray kid with no future. All the healing he does for others—he can't even fix his own mistakes, can he?"

Each word was like a slap, pushing Luan further into the pit of anger he had been trying to suppress for so long. His fists clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms. The fear he had once felt in the face of Leon's cruelty melted away, replaced by a fierce, boiling rage that surged through him.

"Shut up!" Luan growled, his voice low but filled with venom. "Don't you ever talk about Grandpa like that!"

Without thinking, driven by the fire inside him, Luan lunged forward, his fist flying toward Leon's face. The words that had made him feel small, insignificant, now became the spark that set him alight with fury.

But before Luan could land the punch, the other children swarmed him. They moved with practiced precision, their numbers overwhelming him as they grabbed him from all sides. The force of their assault was too much, and Luan was thrown to the ground, his body slamming against the rough cobblestones. Pain shot through him as they kicked and punched, each blow like a reminder of how powerless he felt against their collective strength.

Luan struggled to fight back, but the weight of their bodies pinned him down, and the strikes kept coming. Just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, a sudden voice cut through the chaos.

"Don't meddle in between. I will repay this punch myself."

The voice was sharp, commanding, and unmistakably full of authority. The group of children froze at the sound of it, all eyes turning toward the speaker.

The children hesitated, reluctantly stepping back, but the tension remained. Luan, still lying on the ground, could barely process what was happening. All he could do was stare, breathless, at the figure who had intervened.

Many passersby glanced at the commotion, their eyes widening in shock, but not a single person dared to intervene. The weight of the situation was clear to everyone—this was no ordinary scuffle. As the mayor's son, Leon was untouchable. People stepped out of their shops, curious to see what was unfolding, but they quickly averted their gaze, pretending as if nothing was happening. The tension in the air was palpable, but fear kept them silent.

Leon slowly walked toward Luan, a smug grin spreading across his face as he approached the boy lying on the ground. The others stepped aside, giving him space to assert his dominance. With a deliberate slowness, Leon placed one of his polished boots on Luan's chest, pressing down hard. The weight was a reminder of how small Luan felt in the face of Leon's power, and the smirk on Leon's face only deepened.

"You think you can stand up to me?" Leon taunted, his voice dripping with disdain. "You're nothing. Just an orphan picked up by a worthless old doctor. This is your place—on the ground, where you belong."

The crowd remained eerily quiet, watching as the mayor's son humiliated the child, knowing that any attempt to stop it would only bring trouble. But inside, some of them were unsettled. Even though they dared not act, a part of them felt disgusted by the spectacle of power and cruelty on display, but do they dare to go and save Luan? NO

Leon's voice was cold and commanding, his words laced with malice. "A person should know his position and never try to go above it. You should always stay within your limits and be loyal to people like us. Otherwise, you…" His gaze sharpened, and he pressed his foot down harder on Luan's chest, "…will not have a peaceful life."

The crowd murmured, some looking nervously at each other, while others simply watched in silence. But it was clear they were all aware of what was about to happen—no one would intervene, no one would dare.

Leon's expression shifted into a cruel smile as he turned to one of the boys standing by his side. This boy, Sam, was slightly older than the rest of them. He had the physique of a young cultivator, his body exuding a faint but noticeable aura of power. His clothes were adorned with gold accents, a symbol of his family's wealth and influence.

"Sam," Leon said, his voice laced with command. "Show him what a cultivator's power feels like. Let him see what a real cultivator, someone who has started to cultivate technique to become a Warrior, can do."

Sam stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with excitement. His every movement seemed deliberate and confident. As he stood above Luan, an aura of energy began to form around him, a faint but undeniable sign of his cultivation. The air seemed to thrum with power as he cracked his knuckles, preparing to demonstrate his superiority. The crowd stepped back, some of them holding their breath, unsure of how far this would go.

Luan's heart raced. He had never seen a cultivator's power up close like this before. The energy in the air felt suffocating, like the very earth beneath him was shaking in response to Sam's presence. But despite the fear building up inside him, Luan's resolve hardened. He knew, deep down, that this moment would define his path—whether he would be trampled under the weight of others' power, or rise to challenge it.

"So, this is the power of a Warrior," Luan thought to himself, his mind racing with both awe and fear. He could feel the overwhelming pressure radiating from Sam as the boy's cultivated energy seeped into the air, making the ground beneath them seem to vibrate. Luan's eyes widened as he realized this was only the power of a child—a mere beginner on the path of cultivation. And yet, it was enough to make him feel completely powerless. He thought bitterly, No wonder cultivators are said to be the kings of the world. This... this is just the beginning of their power.

Before Luan could fully process it, Sam's fist slammed into his face, the blow coming too fast for him to react. The pain was instant, sharp, and blinding. Blood splattered across the ground as Sam landed another hit, and then another. Each strike seemed to crush his will just a little bit more.

The boy's punches were relentless, each one carrying the weight of someone who had been trained to fight, someone whose bloodline was full of power and privilege. Luan's vision blurred as the blows rained down. His forehead swelled with a large bruise, and cuts appeared all over his face, some deep enough to draw more blood than he could see. Blood trickled from his lips as they trembled, a sign of the agony he was enduring. But even through the pain, something inside him stirred—something stubborn, something unyielding. Despite the tears stinging his eyes and the pain searing his body, he refused to let himself break.

His breath came in shallow gasps, the taste of iron in his mouth. His legs felt like they might give way, but he fought to stay standing, knowing that if he collapsed, the humiliation would be complete. The crowd around him watched, some silently cheering, others clearly uncomfortable but too afraid to intervene. Leon stood by, arms crossed, a smirk playing across his face as he watched the scene unfold.

"You think you can challenge us?" Sam mocked, delivering one final, brutal punch that sent Luan crashing to the ground. "You're nothing but a little street rat. Stay in your place, or next time, you won't be so lucky."

Luan's head spun as he lay on the ground, struggling to stay conscious. His breath was ragged, his vision dimming. But even as his body screamed in pain, a spark of determination flickered in his eyes. He would not let this be the end. Not today. Not like this.

The world around him seemed to blur, but his resolve remained firm.

This brutal display of power made it painfully clear how the world truly worked. The powerful were revered, their actions excused, while the weak were nothing more than expendable. No one came to Luan's aid. No one dared to challenge the children from the noble families, despite the obvious injustice unfolding right before their eyes. The passerby, the shopkeepers—all stood frozen, either too afraid or too indifferent to intervene. It was as if Luan's pain was nothing more than a spectacle to them, something to watch, something to dismiss.

Luan's body was bruised and battered, but he fought to stay conscious. His head was spinning from the relentless assault, yet in some strange way, he wasn't feeling the same helplessness he had once felt when he was younger. He had been beaten countless times before, each time when he was caught sneaking into the academy library or eavesdropping on the noble children's lessons. He had grown used to the pain, learning to endure and rise above it. To some extent, this cruelty didn't scare him—it was just another beating, another bruise to wear like a badge. But today, something felt different.

This wasn't just a beating.

It was a calculated, vicious attempt to crush him—to break him physically and mentally. The blows were no longer a lesson to teach him to stay away. They were meant to put him in a state where he couldn't rise, couldn't fight back, perhaps even to take his life. The intensity of the attacks, the viciousness of the strikes—it was clear to him now. They were not just punishing him; they were trying to destroy him.

Through the haze of pain, Luan's vision flickered as he lay on the ground. He didn't recognize all of these children, but he didn't need to. He knew enough to understand who they were. They all wore the same arrogant expressions, the same air of superiority. Each one of them came from powerful families—families that had money, influence, and a lineage to back them up. They were the future cultivators, the ones who would become the next rulers of the world. Luan, on the other hand, was nothing but an orphan raised by an old doctor, with no family name, no wealth, no future. And that, to them, made him worthless.

But despite the pain, despite the overwhelming odds stacked against him, something inside Luan refused to bow down completely. That something made him want to kill and destroy every single one of them. His gaze flickered over the faces of the children, all of them standing over him like vultures circling their prey.

The scene shifted dramatically when a familiar figure suddenly appeared at the edge of the street. It was none other than the city's guard captain, a man who had always been a protector of the town's peace. Upon spotting Luan on the ground, bloodied and beaten, a surge of anger lit his features. Without a moment's hesitation, he rushed forward, his powerful presence cutting through the crowd of noble children.

In a swift motion, the captain pushed the children aside with ease, his strength making them stumble backward. He knelt down and pulled Luan up gently, lifting him off the ground. His gaze flickered from Luan to the group of children who had just moments ago been trying to kill him. The captain's anger was palpable—his eyes locked onto Leon, whose smug expression faltered slightly in the face of this sudden intervention.

Luan had always looked up to the captain as an older brother. Despite their age difference, they had forged a bond over the years. Luan often called him "senior brother," and they had shared many conversations, often about Luan's dreams and struggles. To see Luan in such a state—brutally beaten and on the verge of collapse—was enough to shatter the captain's calm exterior.

"Hey, captain, you better get out of here right now," Leon sneered, his voice dripping with arrogance. "If you don't, I'll go straight to my dad and have you expelled from your position."

The captain stood tall, his face hardening, but his voice remained steady, laced with resolve. "I didn't join the city guard to stand idly by while children are bullied and hurt. My duty is to protect the people of this city, and I won't let you get away with this. Not even if you are the mayor's son. Even if Luan has done something wrong, it is for the mayor to decide what happens, not for you to take matters into your own hands and harm someone."

Despite his words, there was a nervous edge in the captain's tone. He was well aware of the power Leon's father wielded in the town, but he also knew that what had just happened was beyond the pale. The captain could feel the tension building, and he wasn't sure how far Leon would push this. It was a dangerous situation—one where doing nothing was no longer an option, but where every action he took could have consequences far beyond this moment.

The noble children had begun to fall silent, some of them eyeing the captain with uncertainty, unsure whether they should support Leon or step back. The power dynamic had shifted in an instant. Leon, the privileged son of the mayor, was no longer in control of the situation.

"You think you have the ability to stop Young Master from doing whatever he pleases in this city?" Sam sneered, his voice dripping with arrogance. "Don't forget, I'm a cultivator on the verge of becoming a 1-Star Warrior!" His eyes gleamed with self-assurance as he lunged at the captain, believing that a non-cultivator like him was no match for his superior strength. After all, he was close to a level that separated him from ordinary humans.

However, the captain, with calm precision, sidestepped Sam's attack, effortlessly pushing him aside with a swift motion. His voice was laced with both mockery and confidence as he spoke, "Maybe I'm not a cultivator, but don't forget who I am. I'm the captain of the city's elite force. I still possess enough power to contend with those who have yet to reach the 1-Star Warrior rank." He gave Sam a sarcastic laugh. "You think you can take me down with your little strength? Ha!"

The captain's words weren't just empty bravado. Beneath his non-cultivator status lay years of experience and a strength honed from battle. While many cultivators relied on techniques and treasures, his power came from raw physicality. Having come from an ordinary background, his journey was one of grit and perseverance. By his late teens, he had already surpassed the strength of most people, reaching 1,000 kg. Though the noble families blocked his path to learning any techniques, he didn't let that stop him. Now, in his mid-thirties, he possessed a formidable strength of 7,000 to 8,000 kg—enough to hold his own against many who thought themselves superior.

As he glanced down at Luan, lying motionless, blood pooling from his head and cuts covering his arms and legs, the captain's expression hardened. Without a second thought, he scooped Luan into his arms, his face set in grim determination. He rushed towards the old doc's cottage, his mind focused on getting Luan the help he needed.

The crowd of onlookers murmured amongst themselves, a mix of curiosity and unease in their voices. "This is going to be a show," one person muttered. "Do you think the mayor will take his son's side? The boy and the captain might be in serious trouble."

"I think this is only the beginning," another voice whispered.

When the captain arrived at the cottage, the old doc was sitting in his courtyard, lost in thought. Upon seeing the bloodied Luan in the captain's arms, the old doc's face turned pale with shock. He hurried toward them, his voice filled with concern.

"What happened to him?" the old doc asked, his voice trembling.

The captain's brow furrowed. "It was a conflict with the mayor's son. His friends beat him to this state. I was lucky to arrive in time to save him; otherwise, it could've been far worse."

The old doc's face hardened as he listened, but he didn't speak, moving quickly to treat Luan's wounds. He had been a healer for years, but seeing the state Luan was in—his head badly injured, his chest and limbs battered—was a painful sight. It took an hour of focused work, but finally, the old doc managed to stabilize Luan. The injuries were severe, but the boy would survive if properly cared for.

The captain, though, had a concerned look on his face as he sat nearby, his voice laced with worry. "Even though this fight started with Leon, I'm sure Luan will be the one to pay the price. The mayor won't let this go easily, and I suspect the pill houses will side with him too, especially since your presence has been a thorn in their side, old doc."

The old doc sighed deeply, his gaze fixed on Luan. "I know... I know. They won't let this slide, but right now, this child's life means more to me than anything else in this world."

His voice softened as he added, "Captain, I owe you my deepest thanks for saving him. If you hadn't intervened, he might not have made it."

The captain gave a humble smile. "Old doc, don't thank me. You've saved my life more times than I can count. This is the least I can do to repay you."

It had been three days since that brutal incident. Luan had regained consciousness the following day, though he remained bedridden, unable to do much other than rest. The old doc was preparing a meal for him when the sounds of hurried footsteps reached his ears. He looked up to see the captain approaching, his face twisted in disgust and fear.

When the captain entered the cottage, his usual composed demeanor was replaced by a look of dread. The old doc's heart sank. He knew, in that moment, that the worst fears he had been carrying in his sleepless nights had come true.

"They're here," the captain muttered under his breath, his voice barely above a whisper.

The old doc stood frozen, the weight of the situation bearing down on him. He knew the storm that was about to hit them wasn't just inevitable—it was here.