Jackim_Ochieng

Jackim Jackson, a 19-year-old struggling with extreme poverty, faces constant humiliation from society and is abandoned by his girlfriend for being poor. His life takes a turn when he unexpectedly wins a small lottery—only for a mysterious fortune to follow. Despite inheriting vast wealth, he remains low-profile, continuing to endure mockery from elites and businesses alike. Introduced to a legendary martial arts master, he struggles in training while powerful families look down on him. Faced with fake love, jealousy, temptation, and revenge, Jackim must navigate a world that refuses to acknowledge him—until he forces them to.

SHADOW OF FATE: THE RISE OF JACKIM

The underground market faded into the background as Jackim and Han stepped into the cold night air. The dim lanterns hanging along the alleyways cast long shadows on the cobblestone streets. The fight with Wei Jin still lingered in Jackim's mind—every movement, every strike, every moment of hesitation.

"You know you got lucky, right?" Han's voice cut through the silence.

Han stopped walking and turned to face him. "Wei Jin is strong, but he's not even close to the real martial artists in this city."

Jackim's fists clenched. He already knew that. He had felt it in the fight.

Wei Jin wasn't using his full strength at first. But when he did, Jackim had struggled to keep up.

Han sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. "Your instincts are good. But instincts alone won't save you when someone stronger comes after you."

Jackim met his gaze. "Then teach me."

Han raised an eyebrow. "Teach you?"

"I don't just want to rely on luck. I need to get stronger."

For a long moment, Han just stared at him. Then, finally, he let out a chuckle.

Jackim didn't respond. He wasn't asking for an easy path. He was ready to fight for it.

Han studied him for a moment before nodding. "Alright. We start tomorrow."

Jackim regretted his decision the moment training began.

The training ground was a small, abandoned courtyard hidden deep in the slums. The cracked stone floor was littered with broken training dummies, and a few worn-out weapons lay against the walls.

Han tossed Jackim a wooden sword. "Hit me."

Jackim swung again. Han sidestepped.

No matter how fast or strong Jackim tried to attack, he never even came close.

His strikes were too obvious. His footwork was too slow.

Jackim barely saw it coming. A sharp flick of the wooden sword—and pain exploded in his ribs.

Han didn't give him a chance to recover. Another hit. Then another.

Han looked down at him. "You're weak."

Jackim gritted his teeth. He already knew that.

"Your form is sloppy. Your stance is too stiff. You rely on brute force without understanding movement."

Jackim pushed himself up, panting. "Then teach me."

Jackim's days became a brutal cycle of exhaustion and pain.

Mornings were spent running through the slums, pushing his endurance past its limits.

Afternoons were filled with relentless sparring, forcing his body to adapt to real combat.

And at night—he collapsed into bed, his muscles screaming in pain.

Because every time he collapsed, every time he was knocked down—he got back up.

And one night, after another grueling sparring session, Han tossed him a bottle of cheap wine and sat beside him.

"You're stubborn," Han said, taking a sip. "I like that."

Jackim wiped sweat from his forehead, breathing hard.

Han leaned back, staring at the night sky. "You remind me of someone."

Han's smirk faded. "Someone who chased strength for the wrong reasons."

He knew Han had a past he wasn't ready to share.

But he didn't need to know everything.

All that mattered was the path ahead.

He wasn't just fighting to survive anymore.

Chapter 22: The Road to Strength