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Sons of Heaven

Xing Wuye lives peacefully in his village. However that all changes when a streak of black light passes by his village, imbuing him with energy and leading him down the road of power, madness and indifference.

Fulgrbloom_Lotus · 東方
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61 Chs

Information Gathering

Xing Wuye wandered through the bustling streets of the city, his gaze scanning the shops and stalls. Though he walked with purpose, his mind was elsewhere, focused on the journey ahead. He needed a fast horse to carry him north, where the ancient inheritance awaited. His feet led him to the outskirts of the city, where a large stable stood, the smell of hay and horses thick in the air.

The stable itself was modest, but the horses tied outside looked strong and healthy. He approached the stable master, an older man with graying hair and a weathered face, who greeted him with a nod.

"Looking for a horse, young man?" the stable master asked, his tone polite but cautious.

Xing Wuye nodded. "The fastest one you have."

The old man scratched his chin, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked Xing Wuye up and down, as if assessing his worth.

"The fastest?" he repeated. "That'll cost you, and I don't sell to just anyone."

Wuye's expression remained cold. He reached into his robe, pulling out a small pouch filled with gold coins. He loosened the string and tipped it slightly, letting the glimmer of gold catch the old man's attention. "Will this be enough?"

The stable master's eyes widened briefly before he nodded. "I suppose we can do business."

He led Wuye into the stable, past several well-bred horses until they reached the one at the back. A sleek black stallion, muscular and restless, pawed at the ground. Its eyes gleamed with intelligence, and the way it carried itself made it clear that this was no ordinary horse.

"This one's the fastest I have," the old man said, patting the stallion's side. "Strong too. He'll get you where you need to go, and he won't tire easily."

Xing Wuye ran his hand along the horse's mane, feeling the strength beneath its coat. "It'll do."

He handed over the pouch of gold, and the stable master took it, counting the coins quickly before giving a satisfied nod. Wuye checked the rest of his money to ensure he still had enough for his travels. The pouch was lighter than he liked, but it would suffice.

"I'll be leaving this evening," Wuye said. "Keep the horse ready for me. I'll return to pick it up before I go."

The stable master nodded. "As you wish."

With that, Wuye turned and made his way back toward the city. As he walked, he pondered his next steps. Traveling north would be dangerous, but there was no avoiding that. The thought of waiting until dawn crossed his mind—traveling at night increased the risks, and in unfamiliar territory, every shadow could hide a threat. But he quickly dismissed the thought.

"Time waits for no man," he muttered under his breath. "The longer I stay, the more likely I'll be delayed."

Still, there was wisdom in caution. Before rushing off into the night, he decided to gather more information. If there were significant threats along the way, it would be better to know in advance. His feet carried him to a nearby inn, a modest place with a lively atmosphere.

As soon as he entered, the noise hit him like a wave. Merchants, travelers, and common folk sat at wooden tables, drinking and exchanging stories. Wuye ordered a beer and found a seat in the corner, his back to the wall, where he could observe the room without drawing too much attention.

His heightened Daoist senses allowed him to pick up on conversations around him with ease. At first, most of what he heard was idle chatter—gossip about local events, complaints about the rising cost of goods, and discussions about small-time trades. None of it interested him.

But soon, his ears caught something more useful.

At a nearby table, a small-time merchant was talking to his companion in a hushed voice. "You heard about those bandits, right? The ones up north?"

His companion nodded, looking around nervously. "Yeah, they say they've got Daoists in their ranks now. Not your average thugs anymore."

"Bandits with Daoists," Wuye mused to himself, sipping his beer. That could be problematic, but nothing he couldn't handle.

From another table, he overheard a different conversation—this one about a different threat.

"I swear, I saw them with my own eyes," a rough-looking man said, his voice low. "Man-eating monsters. They move in packs, and they're fast. They've been attacking travelers on the northern roads."

Wuye frowned. Monsters? That was less common, but he wasn't unfamiliar with the dangers posed by the beasts that roamed the lands. Still, they didn't concern him. If they crossed his path, he would deal with them.

After listening for a while longer, and hearing nothing more of interest, he finished his drink and stood up. It was time to retrieve his horse and leave the city behind.

By the time he returned to the stable, the sky had darkened, and a faint chill lingered in the air. The stable master had kept his word—the black stallion was saddled and ready. But as Wuye approached, he noticed someone else there, standing near the horse with a smug expression on his face.

The man was dressed in fine clothes, his robes embroidered with intricate patterns that marked him as someone of wealth and status. Two guards stood at his side, both armed and eyeing Wuye with disdain.

"What's the meaning of this?" Wuye asked, his voice cold.

The stable master looked flustered, wringing his hands nervously. "This man was trying to buy your horse," he explained, his voice trembling. "I told him it was already sold to you, but—"

The arrogant young man sneered, cutting the stable master off. "Name your price," he said, looking Wuye up and down as if he were something beneath him. "I'll pay whatever you ask."

Wuye's eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin. "Who are you?"

The young man straightened his posture, clearly proud of his answer. "My father holds a high position in the local government," he said, puffing out his chest. "He even knows some Daoists. You'd do well not to offend me."

For a brief moment, Wuye considered the situation. The young man clearly had no real backing, relying on the power of his father to throw his weight around. It was a common sight—weak men who thought they could buy anything, including respect, with money and connections.

"Your father knows Daoists?" Wuye repeated, his voice laced with contempt. "I wonder if he knows what they're truly capable of."

Before the young man could respond, his head exploded in a burst of blood, as if crushed by an invisible force. His two guards barely had time to react before their heads met the same fate, their bodies crumpling to the ground like rag dolls.

The stable master recoiled in horror, his face turning pale as he stared at the carnage. His mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. He was frozen, trembling in fear.

Wuye didn't bother with an explanation. He tossed a few extra coins to the stable master, his eyes cold and emotionless. "Take this. For your troubles."

The old man barely managed to nod, his hands shaking as he accepted the money. Wuye knew that if the father was anything like the son, the stable master would likely face trouble soon. A man like that would want to kill anyone who had witnessed his son's death in a fit of rage.

But that wasn't Wuye's problem. He had no interest in the petty politics of the weak.

With one last glance at the stable master, he mounted his horse. The stallion snorted, sensing its rider's command, and in an instant, they were off, leaving the city behind in the night. The streets passed by in a blur, and soon, the towering walls of the city were nothing but a distant memory.

As the cold night air whipped across his face, Wuye felt a strange sense of calm settle over him. His mind was clear, his path forward sharp and unyielding. The north called to him, and with every passing moment, he drew closer it.

The cold winds bellowed besides him, the gloomy light released from the setting sun shone on him, and Xing Wuye rode into it without hesitation, his heart as cold and unfeeling as the winter winds that accompanied him.