As Kai walked along the path leading back to his shack, his expression remained calm and composed. However, as the village disappeared from sight, his steps grew heavier, his jaw tightened, and his breathing quickened. When he was certain he was far enough away that no one from the village could hear or see him, Kai abruptly stopped.
With a guttural shout, he turned and punched a nearby tree with all his might. The sound of splintering wood rang out like a thunderclap as his fist tore through the trunk, leaving a jagged hole in its center. The tree swayed dangerously, its upper branches groaning before it tilted to one side and toppled with a loud crash, scattering birds into the sky.
Kai stood there, his fist still clenched, his knuckles splattered with sap. His shoulders heaved with suppressed fury. The rage he had been holding back ever since he first saw Yan lying broken and bloodied now boiled over. Yan’s condition wasn’t just tragic—it was infuriating.
Kai’s connection with Yan went beyond mere acquaintance. He had known the man since he was a boy, watching him grow up in Haebaek, from a bright-eyed child to a hardworking farmer and devoted father. The years had aged Yan much faster than they had Kai, as mortals always did compared to cultivators. Yet, despite the decades that separated them, their bond had remained strong. Kai had cherished their friendship, valuing Yan’s honesty and resilience in a world that often lacked both.
And now, to see Yan reduced to such a state—to see his body battered, his spirit dimmed—it stoked a fire in Kai’s chest that threatened to consume him. The cause of Yan’s suffering made it even harder to bear. It wasn’t an accident, nor was it the work of bandits. It was the fault of Kai’s own sect.
The Ember Sword Sect had always prided itself on its power and authority. Yet, for all its lofty ideals and grandiose claims of righteousness, it harbored within it a darker, uglier truth. New recruits—young, arrogant, and eager to assert their newfound superiority—often sought to prove their strength in the cruelest ways possible.
Some would descend upon mortal villages like Haebaek, treating the people there as little more than playthings. Cultivators, even the lowest-ranking ones, were akin to gods to mortals. Their power was absolute, their authority unchallengeable. And no mortal could stop them.
Kai knew the stories all too well. Tales of junior sect members terrorizing innocent villages, stealing what they wanted, destroying what they didn’t, and even committing atrocities like assault and murder—all for the sheer thrill of domination. It made Kai’s blood boil. These actions were not born of necessity or survival; they were acts of pure malice and entitlement.
And that is what befell Yan. Some young cultivators from the sect came to the village and terrorized the people there.Yan tried to stop them and as a result, they tortured and brutalized Yan before they left him for dead before returning to the sect.
Officially, the sect’s rules forbade such actions. The Ember Sword Sect claimed to hold its members to a code of conduct that reflected their supposed noble purpose: to protect humanity and maintain order. When Kai had reported the young cultivators responsible for Yan’s torment, the leadership had assured him that the offenders would face punishment. On the surface, it seemed like justice was being served.
But Kai knew better.
The sect’s response was always reactive, never proactive. They punished wrongdoers only when forced to confront their misdeeds, but they did nothing to prevent such atrocities from occurring in the first place. The Ember Sword Sect’s leadership would pay lip service to morality, but in practice, they turned a blind eye to the pervasive culture of arrogance and entitlement festering among its ranks.
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And worse still, the sect’s justice was limited to dealing with the perpetrators. They offered no aid, no solace, to the victims left in the wake of these heinous acts. The mortals who suffered at the hands of cultivators were seen as collateral damage, their lives deemed insignificant compared to the cultivation world’s grand ambitions. Not a single tier 1 healing pill—a medicine so basic and inexpensive that it was considered negligible within the sect—was offered to ease Yan’s suffering. It would have cost the sect nothing, yet they withheld it without a second thought.
Kai’s heart burned with anger as he thought of Yan. If not for his close ties to Haebaek, if not for the personal bond he shared with the villagers, Yan’s suffering would have gone entirely unnoticed. The sect wouldn’t have cared. They wouldn’t have sent anyone to investigate, let alone offered a shred of assistance. Yan would have been left to die slowly, in agony, surrounded by his grieving family.
The injustice gnawed at him. He couldn’t stop thinking about how many other villages had suffered as Haebaek had, how many innocent lives had been destroyed without anyone to intervene.
Once Kai had calmed his emotions, he resumed his walk home. Glancing at the sun’s position in the sky, he realized there would be no time left to gather herbs today. He sighed, blaming the delay on his earlier misstep—obtaining the tier-2 healing medicine instead of the tier-1 he had originally intended. The tier-1 medicine would have been slower to heal Yan but far less painful, requiring no direct supervision. Instead, Kai had spent the entire day at Yan’s side to ensure the volatile effects of the higher-grade medicine didn’t worsen his condition.
Now, there was no choice but to head straight to the meadow where the spirit beasts were housed. Tomorrow would bring another opportunity to forage, but for now, his duties with the beasts took precedence.
The path home stretched before him, quiet and serene in the fading light of the day. By the time Kai reached the stable area, the last rays of the sun were barely visible on the horizon. The meadow was deserted, as expected, with all the spirit beasts having returned to their designated stalls. Some were already curled up, their massive forms peacefully resting, while others lay awake, their sharp eyes glinting in the dim light.
Kai walked through the stable area, inspecting each beast carefully. One by one, he checked their stalls, ensuring all was secure and that each animal was comfortable for the night. These creatures were his responsibility, and he took the role seriously.
As he approached Snow, the Ice Claw Wolf, the majestic white canine stirred from its resting position. Snow rose gracefully, its icy-blue eyes meeting Kai’s with a gleam of recognition. Its tongue lolled out in a playful greeting, the gesture entirely at odds with its ferocious reputation.
Kai chuckled softly and reached out to pet Snow’s head, his fingers brushing through the wolf’s thick, cold fur. “Hello, old friend,” he murmured. The wolf leaned into his touch, a low rumble of contentment escaping its throat.
In moments like this, Kai felt a rare sense of peace. These beasts, often feared for their power and revered for their rarity, displayed a level of loyalty and sincerity that many cultivators lacked. Kai saw more nobility in their instincts than he ever did in the hollow rituals and lofty proclamations of his sect.
To most, being assigned as the stable master was considered a punishment—an exile from the more prestigious roles within the sect. But to Kai, it was the closest thing to freedom he could imagine. Here, among these majestic creatures, he found solace. Their raw nature, tempered by their simple desires, reminded him of a world untainted by greed and ambition.
Snow gave a soft huff and settled back down as Kai moved on to close its stall. The stable grew quieter with each passing moment as the beasts settled into their nocturnal rhythms. For Kai, this was more than a duty—it was a gift. These creatures, untamed and powerful, brought him a sense of connection and purpose that the sect’s rigid hierarchy never could.
As he finished his rounds and secured the last of the stalls, Kai paused to look up at the night sky. The stars shimmered above, distant and indifferent, yet they filled him with a strange sense of hope. Tomorrow would bring its challenges, but for tonight, he could rest knowing he had done what he could—for Yan, for the village, and for the creatures entrusted to his care.
