Chapter 5 - The Awakening

The soft rustling of the leaves outside the cottage was interrupted by the hurried footsteps of the Captain, who entered the old doctor's house with a look of urgency etched on his face. His usual stoic demeanor had been replaced with a trace of fear, and his eyes darted around the room, settling on Old Doc with an intensity that made the old man sit up straighter in his chair.

"Captain, what's the matter?" Old Doc asked, his voice calm but laced with concern. Luan, who had been lying on the bed, turned his head to look at the Captain. His body still ached from the beating, but his instincts told him that something was coming—something worse than what had already happened.

"It's the Mayor," the Captain said, his voice strained. "He's coming... with the city guards and some other influential nobles. They'll be here soon. You need to leave—both of you."

Luan's heart skipped a beat. The threat was no longer just about Leon or his friends—it was about the entire power structure of the city descending upon them.

"What do you mean, leave?" Old Doc asked, his calm composure masking the storm of thoughts in his head. He had seen trouble in his time, but this was different. The Mayor and his forces coming to his doorstep meant one thing—retribution.

"I don't need to tell you why they're coming," the Captain continued, his eyes hardening with the weight of the situation. "They know what happened to the young master. And with the Mayor's influence, this is only going to escalate. They want to silence anyone who could be a threat. Luan's life is in danger—your life is in danger."

Luan's eyes widened. He had always known that the Mayor held power over the town, but the reality of it was far more brutal than he could have imagined. His hands clenched into fists, and for a moment, he felt a flash of anger surge through him.

"I'm not running," Luan said, his voice firm. He could feel the heat in his chest. "I'll stand and face them."

The Captain looked at him with a mix of sympathy and urgency. "You can't. You think they'll care about your resolve? They'll kill you, Luan. I've seen them do worse to people who didn't have the means to fight back."

Old Doc, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke up. "The Captain's right, Luan. You have no choice. This isn't about honor or pride. This is about surviving."

Luan clenched his jaw, shaking his head. "I don't want to run like some coward. I don't want to leave my home, my family… everything I know."

Old Doc's gaze softened, his hand resting on Luan's shoulder. "I know, son. I know. But sometimes, you need to fight on another day. If you stay, you'll die. And I won't allow that to happen to you. You've already survived one beating. Let's not make it two."

There was silence in the room as Luan stared at the floor, his mind racing. Every part of him screamed to stay, to fight back, but in the deepest part of his heart, he knew the truth. He wasn't strong enough yet. Leon and his family had power—real, tangible power. The Mayor's forces were ruthless. And there was nothing he could do against them. Not now.

Slowly, Luan nodded, his resolve breaking. "Fine… I'll go. But where can I even go? What's out there?"

The Captain exhaled, clearly relieved by Luan's decision. "There's a small village to the south, near the edge of the forest. It's quiet, off the grid. You'll be safe there for now. You can figure out what to do next."

Old Doc grabbed a small bag from a nearby shelf and began packing it with supplies. Herbs, some basic foodstuffs, and a few other items for healing. "Take what you can carry, Luan. And go. Don't look back."

Luan's heart felt heavy as he slowly stood, wincing from the aches in his body. But he didn't hesitate. After one last glance at Old Doc, he took the bag, slung it over his shoulder, and moved toward the door. He was walking away from everything he had ever known, running from a fate that he was not yet ready to face. But he had no choice.

As he stepped outside the cottage, the Captain called out to him. "You'll make it, Luan. Just keep your head down and stay out of sight. We'll figure this out."

Luan didn't answer. He just nodded and hurried down the path leading into the woods.

Back in the cottage, Old Doc and the Captain exchanged a knowing look, each understanding the weight of the situation. They had done all they could. Now, it was up to Luan.

They knew now their is no going back.

Luan hadn't made it far. He had barely crossed the first bend in the path when he heard the unmistakable sound of horses' hooves thundering on the ground. His heart sank, his instincts screaming for him to turn and run. But he didn't need to look back. He knew who it was.

The Mayor's guards.

In a panic, Luan quickened his pace, rushing toward the trees at the edge of the woods. His breath was ragged, and his body, still sore from the earlier beating, screamed in protest with every step he took. But he didn't stop.

At the same time, both Old Doc and the Captain stood in the shadow of the impending storm. The soft crunch of hooves on gravel and the sound of approaching riders echoed in the air, growing louder with each passing second. The two men exchanged a look, one that carried the weight of years of shared experience, the gravity of the situation settling into their bones.

Old Doc's gaze was fixed on the approaching riders, his hands clenched into fists, though his body remained still. He had seen his fair share of power, but today, even his usual calm demeanor couldn't mask the tightness in his chest. The City Lord was coming for them. The authority that had ruled the city for years, wielding influence like a sledgehammer, was now heading straight for their doorstep.

Captain stood beside him, his posture rigid but resolute. Though the Mayor's forces were closing in on them, he wasn't going to show weakness—not even in the face of this overwhelming power. He had sworn an oath to protect this city and its people, no matter the cost. And now, he was ready to face the consequences.

Through the haze of dust kicked up by the hooves, a rider emerged at the front of the group, his fine silk robes shimmering in the sunlight. He was the one the Captain and Old Doc feared most—the City Lord. His face, though unremarkable in features, was framed by a regal air that radiated authority and dominance. The City Lord's eyes swept over the scene in front of him, sharp, calculating, and filled with an unspoken threat.

The Captain's jaw tightened. There was no mistaking the aura of absolute power surrounding this man. Even from a distance, it was clear that the City Lord was no ordinary noble. His presence was palpable, like an iron fist hidden in velvet gloves, and his gaze alone could send anyone scurrying in fear.

"Old Doc," the Captain said softly, "This is it."

"I know," Old Doc replied with a resigned sigh. "The storm is here."

The City Lord dismounted with a grace befitting his status, his boots landing on the ground with an almost imperceptible thud. As he took a few measured steps forward, the guards flanking him dismounted as well, surrounding the area with a commanding presence.

"Old Doc," the City Lord said, his voice cold, as if he were addressing a mere inconvenience rather than an old acquaintance. "I must say, you've caused quite a bit of trouble for me."

The Old Doc didn't flinch, though his heart pounded in his chest. The Captain stood tall beside him, his hands flexing at his sides, ready for whatever came next. He had no illusions about the outcome—this was a battle they could not win, but they would not kneel either.

"I have done nothing but care for the people of this city," Old Doc replied, his voice calm but firm. "You are the ones who have caused the trouble, with your greed and your cruelty."

The City Lord's lips curled into a thin smile, but there was no humor in it. "You have a way with words, old man. But words mean little when the people you protect are nothing more than pawns in a game they do not understand. Do you think your little actions here will change anything?"

Old Doc's eyes flickered toward the Captain, who was silently preparing for what was to come. There would be no saving them now. They had already made their stand.

The City Lord stepped closer, his gaze cold and calculating as it landed on the Captain. "And you... You are the one who has been protecting this brat, aren't you?" His eyes narrowed, disdain dripping from his voice. "Did you really think you could stand against me? Against my forces?"

The Captain didn't flinch. "I swore an oath to protect the city. Even from people like you."

The City Lord raised an eyebrow, almost as if he were amused by the Captain's defiance. "An oath? How quaint. Tell me, Captain, how many lives do you think you can save before I decide to end this charade?"

The Captain clenched his fists, his face hardening. "I'll save as many as I can."

The City Lord's gaze flickered over to Old Doc, his eyes flicking to the door behind him, where Luan's presence lingered like an unspoken threat. "And what of the boy?" the City Lord asked with an icy edge to his voice. "Where is he?"

The Old Doc's expression remained unchanged, but his heart hammered in his chest. He knew that Luan had already fled, that he had done everything in his power to ensure the boy's safety. But the City Lord wasn't just searching for Luan; he was searching for an excuse to destroy everything Old Doc had built.

"He's not here," Old Doc said, the words coming out as calm as he could manage. "And even if he were, it's not your concern."

The City Lord's lips curled into a smile—though it held none of the warmth of amusement. It was the smile of a predator cornering its prey.

"Not my concern?" he repeated. "I think it is my concern, old man. A child of such potential running around unchecked. I will find him, and when I do, he will answer for his actions. You will both answer for your role in this."

Old Doc's heart sank, but his resolve remained steady. He had seen the truth for years—the Mayor's power was absolute, and anyone who stood against him would inevitably fall. But the Old Doc wasn't ready to let go of the boy who had come into his care. He had treated Luan as his own child for years, and he would die protecting him if necessary.

"Do what you must," Old Doc said, his voice low and steady. "But know this—the blood that will be spilled here today will be on your hands."

The City Lord's eyes darkened, the smile fading from his lips as his eyes locked onto Old Doc's with cold fury. He wasn't in the mood for words anymore.

With a single gesture, he ordered his guards to advance. The air seemed to tense in that moment, as if the very earth held its breath, awaiting what was to come.

In the blink of an eye, the guards were on them, their armored bodies moving like a well-oiled machine. The Captain was the first to move, his fist striking out at the nearest guard with the speed of a lightning bolt. But despite his strength, the guards were quick, skilled, and ruthless. They had been trained for this very moment. They were not here to negotiate. Every single one of these Guards might not be a warrior but they are close to being one.

A warrior's transition from 1,000 kg to 10,000 kg in strength might seem like just a cultivation breakthrough away, but for many, it takes years—if not decades to achieve.

Even within the City Lord's Mansion, a 1-star warrior is a significant force. The entire strength of the mansion consists of only two 1-star cultivators, one 2-star cultivator, and a single 3-star cultivator—the City Lord himself.

The rest of the guards were merely cultivators, many of whom might never break through to become warriors in their lifetime. As for the force the City Lord brought to battle, it consisted of ten guards, two 1-star warriors, and himself.

At first glance, it seemed like he had assembled them for a real fight, but in reality, a single 1-star warrior would have been more than enough. He brought such a large force not out of necessity, but to showcase his prestige—to instill fear in ordinary people and ensure that no one dared to challenge his rule.

The fight broke out in a blur of motion clashing metal, grunts of effort, the sound of bodies hitting the ground. The Captain held his ground, but he was outnumbered. His strikes landed with precision, but the guards were relentless. They aimed for his vital points, and though he fought with all his might, the odds were stacked against him.

The City Lord watched with a detached expression as his men overwhelmed the Captain. He was no fool—he knew that this wouldn't be over quickly. But it didn't matter. His power would crush them, just as it had crushed so many before them.

"We'll deal with this quickly," the City Lord said to no one in particular, his voice devoid of emotion. "The city will be mine forever. And no one, not even an old fool like you, will ever dare stand in my way and challenge the noble rule."

It was in that moment that the old man and captain knew. There would be no escape for either of them.

In the Woods Outside the City Walls,

Luan ran. His legs moved on their own, his breath ragged, his vision blurred by the rush of wind and the sting of unshed tears. The dense forest outside the city stretched endlessly before him, each step taking him farther away from the only home he had ever known. Twigs snapped under his feet, and branches lashed against his face, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the storm raging within him.

His mind refused to be silent. Memories clawed their way to the surface, forcing him to relive moments that now felt like fragile echoes of a life slipping through his fingers.

He remembered the Captain teaching him how to throw a proper punch, how to stand his ground even when fear threatened to crush him. "The world won't wait for you to be ready, boy," the Captain had said with a smirk. "You either fight for your place or get trampled underfoot."

He remembered the laughter, the nights spent listening to the Captain's war stories, the warmth of Old Doc's cooking, the feeling of having a family—even if they weren't connected by blood. They had protected him, raised him, given him everything when the world had left him with nothing.

And now he was running away like a coward.

Luan stumbled to a halt, his chest heaving. The weight of guilt and helplessness bore down on him like an iron shackle.

How could he abandon them?

They were still back there, facing the wrath of the City Lord and his guards. He had heard it in the Captain's voice, seen it in Old Doc's eyes—they had expected him to run, to save himself. But what was the point of survival if he had to live knowing they had died for him?

A ragged sob tore from his throat as he fell to his knees, his fingers digging into the damp earth.

He should have fought.

He should have stayed.

"I can't... I can't leave them."

With a shuddering breath, he forced himself back to his feet. His mind was made up. If he was going to die, he would rather die with them than live as a coward. Turning on his heel, he sprinted back toward the city, his heart pounding not with fear—but with determination.

By the time he reached Old Doc's cottage, the world around him felt like it had slowed to an eerie stillness. The soft glow of the moon cast long shadows across the broken remains of what had once been a place of warmth and safety.

The scent of blood hung thick in the air.

Luan's breath hitched in his throat as his eyes landed on a figure lying motionless at the entrance.

The Captain.

His body was barely recognizable, covered in deep bruises and cuts. His once-strong arms, the same arms that had trained Luan, the same hands that had shielded him countless times, were gone—torn from his body in a display of unthinkable cruelty. Blood pooled around him, his face frozen in an expression of agony and defiance.

Luan staggered forward, a strangled sound escaping his lips. "No... no, no, no..."

His knees gave out, and he collapsed beside the lifeless body of the man who had been his mentor, his guardian, his family. Trembling, he reached out, but his hands stopped just short of touching him, as if doing so would make the nightmare real.

A weak, rasping voice broke through the suffocating silence.

"Luan..."

His head snapped toward the sound. In the corner of the ruined cottage, Old Doc lay slumped against the wall, his body broken, his breathing shallow. His once-kind eyes, now dull with pain, struggled to focus on Luan. Blood matted his beard, and his frail hands, stained red, twitched as he tried to reach toward him.

"Run... please... just run..." Old Doc's voice cracked, a desperate plea escaping his lips. "Don't... let them take you too... you have to... live..."

Tears streamed down Luan's face as he crawled toward the old man, grasping his shaking hand. "I—I shouldn't have left! I should have stayed!"

A pained smile ghosted across Old Doc's lips. "No, child... we wanted you to live... still do... but now... it's too late..." His body convulsed, his grip on Luan tightening despite his failing strength. "Please... for me... live..."

Luan clenched his jaw, his chest tightening with unbearable grief. How could he leave now? How could he abandon them again?

Just as Luan was thinking what to do?, a sudden force struck him from behind. Strong hands seized him, their grip unyielding. He gasped, struggling as his feet left the ground.

Two men clad in dark blue armor loomed over him. Their faces were shadowed by their helmets, but Luan could see the cruel smirks playing on their lips.

"Well, well," one of them sneered. "Looks like I win the bet. Told you the brat would come back."

The other chuckled darkly. "Yeah, yeah. Let's just get this over with. City Lord wants him alive—for now. His son wants to have some fun before we gut him."

Luan thrashed, his heart hammering in his chest. He knew he was no match for them. These weren't ordinary guards—they were warriors, trained killers, stronger than anyone he had ever faced. But something inside him refused to yield. A burning rage bubbled up within him, raw and untamed. His vision blurred, but this time, it wasn't from tears.

It was something else.

Something ancient.

Something... hungry.

A low growl built in his throat, his nails digging into the gauntleted hands gripping him. He knew he couldn't win. He knew he was powerless. And yet—

He wanted to kill them.

The urge consumed him, drowning out logic, outshining reason. A fire unlike anything he had ever felt before surged through his veins.

Luan didn't care that he was weak.

He didn't care that he would die.

He just wanted them to suffer.

Luan struggled, but their strength was far beyond his own. Panic surged through him—he was powerless. Helpless.

And yet... something inside him snapped.

A whisper, cold and ancient, curled through his mind.

Kill them.

The voice slithered into his thoughts, dark and commanding. His breath hitched. Something... something deep within him responded. It clawed at his consciousness, urging him to act, to destroy, to consume.

The first raindrop fell.

Then another.

A drizzle turned into a steady downpour, but instead of washing away the darkness, it seemed to intensify it. The very air felt cursed, as if the heavens themselves recoiled from the force stirring within Luan. The warrior holding him flinched, eyes narrowing as he glanced around uneasily.

Then he screamed.

His gauntleted hand—still gripping Luan's throat—began to rot. The metal of his gloves blackened and crumbled away, revealing flesh that decayed before their very eyes. His palm, fingers, and wrist turned to dust in mere seconds.

He released Luan, stumbling back in horror. "What—what the hell is this?!"

The second warrior drew his blade, eyes darting between his partner's ruined hand and the boy who now lay sprawled on the ground. But Luan was no longer motionless.

He rose to his feet, slow and unsteady, his head bowed.

The vegetation around him withered. The grass curled and blackened. Even the raindrops that touched his skin seemed to evaporate into nothing.

And above him, the clouds churned, turning a shade so deep and twisted it was neither black nor red nor purple, but something beyond human comprehension.

The warriors, hardened and fearless, felt true terror for the first time.

Luan lifted his head, his eyes no longer his own.

And he smiled.