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Before dawn, the massive silhouette of Shitang Town's walls loomed through the drifting morning fog.
Chang Le blended into the thin stream of early travelers entering the gates.
He wore a patched coat stained with ash, his face deliberately smeared to look dirty, a large basket slung over his back and covered with cloth. To anyone passing by, he looked like nothing more than a poor village boy coming to sell goods at market.
Rather than heading toward the bustling southwest gate, he slipped toward the quieter northeastern entrance.
Just as he'd hoped, the guards here barely glanced at him. Mimicking the stooped posture of the old farmer ahead of him, Chang Le lowered his head and slipped through without trouble.
Inside the town, smoke from breakfast fires drifted through the air, mingling with the smell of steamed buns and hot porridge. Wide stone roads stretched between rows of shops just beginning to open for the day.
His goal was clear: find a merchant caravan or escort company and get out of this place immediately.
He vaguely remembered such businesses being located in the northeast district.
Skipping breakfast, he plunged into the maze of narrow streets, eyes scanning hurriedly for signs reading Caravan for Hire or Escort Services.
Then—
A rough hand slammed onto his shoulder.
The force nearly knocked him off his feet.
Chang Le stiffened and slowly turned around.
Three burly men in dark brown uniforms blocked his path. Iron batons hung at their waists, and their expressions were anything but friendly. The man in front had a face like raw meat—thick, red, and twisted with cruelty.
The town patrol.
"Hey, brat," the captain growled. "What are you sneaking around for?"
Spit flew as he spoke.
Chang Le's heart dropped. He immediately put on a terrified expression, stammering, "S-sirs, I—I'm just looking for relatives. I got lost…"
"Lost?"
A sharp-faced man in silk robes stepped forward with a grin. "Captain Wang, it's him. No mistake.
He unfolded a crumpled wanted notice.
From the corner of his eye, Chang Le saw the crude but unmistakable sketch of his own face.
His blood turned cold.
So fast… They had moved already.
He tried to spin and run, but a hand grabbed his collar and yanked him back. The captain shoved the notice in his face and laughed.
"Well, isn't this a gift from the heavens? Easy money. Take him."
Two guards seized him, twisted his arms behind his back, and tied him with rough hemp rope. When he struggled, fists and batons rained down on him.
A blow split his lip. Blood filled his mouth.
"Behave," one guard snarled, "or we'll break your legs."
Chang Le went still.
He knew better than to fight.
Fear coiled tightly around his heart. If he fell into the Wang family's hands, he wouldn't survive long—especially if they forced out the truth.
He was dragged through back streets and thrown into a damp, stinking cell beneath the patrol office.
Not long after, he was hauled out again.
There were no questions.
Only beating.
Fists. Clubs. Whips.
They demanded to know where the pill had come from.
Chang Le clenched his teeth and said nothing.
"I found it," was all he repeated.
Each answer earned him another blow.
By the time they were done, his body was barely conscious, blood soaking his clothes. As darkness crept in, he vaguely heard one guard mutter:
"The three families are at each other's throats. Don't let the boy die yet."
He was thrown back into the cell like garbage.
Cold water splashed over his face sometime later, dragging him back from unconsciousness. Hands grabbed him again, pulling him forward.
This time, he was brought somewhere else.
The Wang family's main hall.
The ceiling rose high above, supported by carved beams and painted rafters. The air itself felt heavy.
Three men sat at the head of the hall, dressed in luxurious robes, their presence commanding and oppressive.
The heads of the Wang, Li, and Sun families.
Their expressions were dark. It was obvious they had already argued fiercely.
Chang Le, bruised and filthy, was tossed to the floor between them like a sack of trash.
He forced his swollen eyes open.
The man in the center, sharp-eyed and dignified, stared down at him.
Wang Qingtian.
"Boy," he said coldly. "Where did the pill come from?"
Pain pulsed through Chang Le's body, but his mind raced.
If he told the truth, he was dead.
So he lied.
He raised his head with trembling effort, voice hoarse and shaking.
"R-respected lord… I dare not lie. An old wandering master gave it to me. He said I had no magical talent, but… but I had a rare gift for alchemy. He planned to take me as a disciple, but left suddenly and told me to wait. I was starving, so I sold the pill… I swear there are no more."
Silence filled the hall.
A vein twitched on Wang Qingtian's forehead.
No magical talent? Alchemy prodigy? A mysterious master? Sold a priceless pill for a single coin?
Did he think they were idiots?
The other two family heads exchanged strange looks.
But Chang Le had no better story to give.
Wang Qingtian's face darkened. "Enough nonsense. You'll talk after a little more persuasion."
He raised his hand.
Guards surged forward.
Terror flooded Chang Le's mind.
Just then—
A calm voice drifted in from outside the hall.
"How lively this town has become. Such a gathering, yet no one thought to inform my sect?"
The voice was soft, yet it carried effortlessly through the room.
Everyone froze.
The three family heads' expressions changed instantly. They stood up at once, straightened their robes, and hurried toward the entrance with forced smiles.
"At once, at once! We greet the envoy of the Azure Cloud Sect!"
Chang Le turned his head weakly.
A young man stood at the doorway, dressed in a gray-blue robe. His features were refined, his expression calm, and his presence alone made the air feel lighter.
A cultivator.
The three powerful family heads bowed deeply before him.
Lying on the cold floor, bruised and broken, Chang Le felt a wave of relief wash over him.
Someone powerful had arrived.
If this man had come even a moment later…
He would already be dead.