thorn

Now they are back into the mountains.

The bone sword was crude, its surface rough and unpolished, but Tianze gripped it as if it were a divine weapon. The image of Namgoong Yue, the heiress of the Namgoong Clan, remained etched in his mind—the way she moved with effortless grace, her blade slicing through the air with lethal precision.

He had seen her once, standing atop the city walls, performing a sword dance. Every movement was fluid, her strikes carrying an unseen force. She embodied perfection, and Tianze wanted to reach that level. No—he needed to.

For two years, he trained relentlessly.

At dawn, he practiced the movements he had memorized, swinging his sword over and over until his arms bled. At night, he hunted in the forests, facing beasts stronger than him, forcing himself to adapt. But no matter how much he trained, he remained far from the level of Namgoong Yue.

His footwork was clumsy. His strikes lacked the flow of inner energy. He was merely imitating, without understanding the essence.

"Without inner energy, I will never reach their world."

That realization burned in his heart, but he had no way of cultivating. He was stuck in a realm of mortals while martial artists soared like gods.

Still, he did not stop training.

Two years passed, and today, he and his father had come to the town to sell rare herbs and beast meat—highly sought after by martial artists.

Their stall was modest, but they had earned a reputation for selling the freshest and most potent goods. Yet, the moment Tang Wei, the third son of the Tang Clan, arrived, Tianze knew trouble had found them.

The young master, dressed in extravagant silks, walked over with four guards, each exuding the presence of seasoned martial artists.

"I heard this is the best stall in town," Tang Wei said, smirking. He reached out and grabbed a bundle of meat. "I’ll take it all."

Arthur bowed slightly. "Of course, young master. That will be—"

Tang Wei waved a hand, silencing him. "Did I say I would pay?"

Arthur’s expression stiffened, but he did not protest. This was not the first time they had been exploited by the Tang Clan.

Tianze, however, could not accept it.

"Money, young master," he said, his voice firm.

For a brief moment, silence filled the air. Then, Tang Wei laughed. His guards laughed with him.

"You dare ask me for money?"

Before Tianze could react, a fist slammed into his gut. Pain exploded through his body as he staggered back.

One of the guards sneered. "Here's your payment."

Blows rained down. He tried to resist, but his crude swordsmanship was useless against true martial artists. Within moments, he was on the ground, coughing blood.

Arthur knelt beside him, trembling. "Please, young master, forgive him!"

Tang Wei spat on the ground. "Trash like you should know your place." Then, with a flick of his wrist, a hidden needle shot out, piercing Arthur's shoulder.

Tianze’s sharp senses caught the glint of poison on the needle just before it struck. His eyes widened in horror. He reached out, pulling it from his father’s flesh, but it was too late—the poison had already spread.

Arthur’s breathing became ragged, his body weakening rapidly.

Tianze’s vision blurred, his heart pounding. Why? Why is the world so cruel to those without power?

Tang Wei chuckled. "Next time, know your place." With that, he and his guards left, taking everything from their stall without a second glance.

Tianze crawled toward his father, his hands shaking. He had to do something.

He could not let his father die.

With what little strength he had left, Tianze carried his father to an inn where the elderly and sick were taken in. It was a simple place, run by a kind old woman who took pity on them.

But Tianze was not done. He stormed toward the Law Hall, a place where disputes and crimes were supposed to be judged fairly.

As he entered, the scribes barely glanced at him.

"I want to register a complaint," he said, voice hoarse.

One of the officials looked up lazily. "Against whom?"

"Tang Wei."

The room fell silent. A few officials exchanged glances. Then, the scribe sighed and shook his head.

"No complaint will be accepted against the Tang Clan. Leave."

Tianze clenched his fists. "They stole from us! They poisoned my father!"

The official met his gaze, expression indifferent. "Then be grateful you’re still alive. Now, get out before you make trouble for yourself."

Tianze stood there, trembling. He had hoped—even if only slightly—that justice existed in this world.

But he saw it clearly now. The law was not for people like him.

With a heavy heart, he turned and left.

One pharmacy after another, he begged for medicine. But each time, he was either turned away or laughed at.

At the Namgoong Pharmacy, the clerk scoffed. "You think we give rare antidotes to beggars?"

Tianze clenched his fists but did not argue. He moved to the next shop. And the next. Each time, the answer was the same.

His desperation grew. He felt as if he were drowning, trapped in a world where power dictated everything.

Then, by chance, he bumped into someone in the street.

"Trash, watch where you’re going!"

The cold, commanding voice sent a chill through him. He looked up to see Namgoong Yue standing before him.

For a moment, he forgot about his pain. She was exactly as he remembered—elegant, untouchable, a goddess in human form.

But he had no time to admire her. He dropped to his knees.

"Please," he gasped. "I need medicine for my father."

Namgoong Yue looked at him with disdain. "And why should I help you?"

Tianze met her gaze, desperation burning in his eyes. "I have nothing to offer, but I will repay you however I can."

For a long moment, she said nothing. Then, she scoffed.

"Fine. Take me to him."

Back at the inn, Namgoong Yue observed Arthur’s condition with an unreadable expression. She pulled out a small jade bottle and tossed it at Tianze.

"This pill will slow the poison. But don’t think I did this out of kindness," she said. "I just don’t like seeing weaklings grovel."

Tianze crushed the pill and fed it to his father. Slowly, Arthur’s breathing steadied, his face regaining a faint color.

Namgoong Yue turned to leave.

"Don't ever let me see you again," she said coldly.

Tianze watched her go, then looked at his father.

Arthur was still alive—but barely.

His hands clenched into fists.

He was weak. And because of that, his father had suffered.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***