Chapter 6: A Father And A Son

January 28, 2023

"Father, is it really okay to fish in this area? What if a magical creature comes out of that forbidden forest?"

A young boy, about ten years old, asked his father who was rowing their wooden boat with focus. Their fishing gear was stored underneath, and a wooden bucket was already filled with several large fish.

The sky was turning a dark orange hue. The sun would soon set in the west, and yet the father and son were still busy trying to earn a living.

"We already have enough fish to last us three days, don't we? And it's almost night… we should go home, Father."

The father sighed quietly.

"I'm not fishing just to feed us, Qing'er. I'm going to sell some of the catch to our neighbors."

The boy named Qing, who was holding a net to catch fish, let out a small "oh." He was just about to cast the net.

"But what do we need the money for, Father? Aren't we already living comfortably? And Yaoyao's grown up quite a bit since Mother passed."

His father smiled and gently stroked Qing's head.

"You have magical talent, Qing'er. I want to save up so you can attend a magic academy next year."

"A magic academy? I don't want to go! What about you and Yaoyao?"

The boy puffed up his cheeks and turned his head away, abandoning his intention to throw the net into the river.

"Qing'er, listen to me. This world is dangerous. People die every day because of Witches and the magical creatures they create. We're still alive only because there are brave people out there who hunt them."

Qing remained silent, refusing to look at his father, feigning disinterest.

The father sighed again.

"Your mother… after giving birth to Yaoyao and settling in this village, she was killed by *that* creature. I don't want anyone else to experience what we've been through. But I have no power to stop it."

Resting his hand gently on his son's shoulder, the father smiled—a smile veiled in sorrow.

Seeing that, Qing stopped sulking. He stared at the wooden plank of the boat, thinking about his mother. He was five years old when it happened, and couldn't remember her face anymore except through his father's stories.

Not because he had forgotten, but because something had taken that memory from him.

"Qing'er, you have it. The power to fight those monsters. You were born with magical talent that only a few people can have it.

"Ever since I saw you accidentally cast a fire spell, I've been so proud of you. But I want you to use that power for good sake—to protect others. That's what father want, Qing'er."

Qing remained quiet. He didn't respond—only nodded softly.

"…Okay. I'll try, Father."

His father ruffled his hair again, gently.

What filled Qing's mind was worry. His father was aging and sickly. His little sister, Yaoyao, had just begun learn to speak. The magic academy was far—far from the only home he had ever known.

Father is weak and always coughing. Yaoyao just started talking… If only we didn't live in this cursed village. If only Mother…

"I believe in you, Qing'er. You can become a Hunter—from our cursed village's hero."

His father focused once more on rowing the boat, while Qing sat silently, gazing at the gentle ripples of the Yangtze River.

But those ripples were growing.

Qing noticed something ahead. His father was rowing directly toward it.

"Father! There—look!" Qing tapped his father's shoulder, urging him to stop. He was frightened. The evening gloom made it hard to see.

"Something's coming toward us, fast!"

His father immediately reversed the direction of the oars. With all his strength, he tried to row away from the oncoming shape.

But whatever it was, it moved at double the speed of their boat.

"Father! It's getting closer!"

"Qing! Grab the fishing spear and be ready in case it attacks!"

Qing obeyed quickly, seizing the wooden-handled fishing spear and positioning himself at the back of the boat. Though his hands and feet trembled with fear, he stood ready to strike if needed.

His father rowed harder, breathing heavily.

Oh gods… not today… I just need a bit more time. Just enough to send Qing and Yaoyao away from this cursed place. Please, gods…

"Father! I don't think it means harm. There's a man on it—he's waving at us!"

Thirty paces behind their boat, a man with long black hair stood, holding a tall wooden staff in one hand and waving the other hand high in the air.

He was riding—no, more like standing atop—a giant black crocodile, twice the size of any Qing had ever seen. And on its head sat someone else: limbless, just a torso and head.

Upon hearing this, Qing's father grabbed another fishing spear from the bottom of the boat, readying himself.

Night had fallen completely now. Crickets sang to break the eerie silence.

"Qing'er, stand behind me."

Qing nodded and obeyed.

Twenty paces… ten…

They could finally see him clearly.

"Good evening. Is there a place called Qincheng nearby?" the stranger asked, with voice flat.

***

"Good evening. Is there a place called Qincheng around here? I've been traveling down this river all day. You're the first people I've come across."

Sizhu stood atop the large black crocodile, one hand gripping a staff his height, the other clutching the hair of a limbless Witch—his arms gone, legs missing.

The Witch hung limp in his grasp, utterly defeated. Days ago, they had fought. He lost badly. And so, Sizhu decided to use him crocodile familiar as his raft, sailing the mighty river.

Sizhu's face was expressionless. He tried to be friendly, but didn't know how—so he wore his usual look: flat, unreadable.

Which only made the father and son more terrified.

To them, this stranger from the forbidden forest, riding a magical beast and dragging a Witch like a puppet, was more terrifying than the monsters they had imagined.

Whoever he was, they prayed to live through the night.

"Q-Qincheng? Th-that place is quite far from here…"

The father tried to reply calmly, but his voice trembled. His mouth betrayed his fear.

Sizhu was bare-chested, covered in scars. Anyone would be afraid seeing person like that.

A well-built man, his body covered in scars, was proof of a life far from easy—one shaped by countless dangers and trials. Though Sizhu's face was unblemished and handsome, but his body told a story that stood in stark contrast to his fair and gentle visage.

This boy—though he looks young… those scars… I've never seen someone having that many scars. How did he survive in that cursed forest?

Still… he doesn't seem hostile. I should choose my words carefully and find a way to part peacefully.

Sizhu noticed the older man's strange gaze but didn't mind.

A father and son… reminds me of me and my teacher once…

He smiled—barely. But even that faint flicker of a smile gave the father and son a moment of peace. At least this man was human, not a Witch.

"Young man… are you trying to go to Qincheng?"

The father asked cautiously.

Sizhu nodded. "My teacher told me to go there. I don't know where it is. May I come with you for now? It's already night… and Witches can strike anytime."

He gently patted the Witch's head. Again, trying to be polite—again, terrifying.

"Y-yes… of course. We were just heading home."

After several deep breaths to calm himself, the father resumed rowing.

Qing watched Sizhu closely, from head to toe. He had never seen someone so cool.

He made a magical beast into a boat… and that Witch into a paddler. So awesome!

***