Mortals sometimes lack perspective. Some call me a muse, a god of inspiration, and still question why I carry this huge club twice the size of me. It’s because some mortals don’t lack inspiration, they lack motivation—this massive club is all the motivation they need.

~Ogma, God of Eloquence and Inspiration

Crow had ignored everyone and hadn’t ever given much thought to what others thought about him. Song Xue was interesting, and between the two of them, there were no pretenses.

No one had noticed when Munro and Esme disappeared. Not even Crow paid them any mind. While the Bards swapped out, Song Xue was standing at the edge of the dancing area, sipping on a drink that Crow provided her from a food stall. Something with fruit mashed together with a few herbs that supposedly provided natural energy.

Crow had his back to her while he checked on Otto when he heard Xue’er shriek, and within it the sounds of embarrassment, shock, and shame echoed out, causing the entire plaza to go silent. It was a heart-rending sound that spurred Crow into action, and when he turned and saw Song Xue covered in mud, her white dress ruined, and her chaplet all but destroyed, the only thing he felt was pure fury.

Behind her, both Munro and Esme stood smirking with an empty bucket in hand, still dripping mud onto the paving stones of the plaza. Everyone stared, and in that silence, only those with Munro dared to laugh.

Crow didn’t see Otto’s eyes light up because the rage he’d spent all this time trying to bury flared up like a lit match falling into dry tinder. All this time, that rage compressed into a volatile package waiting for that tiny spark to ignite it. Wrath on this level came from bottled anger because of helplessness—forced to swallow it down and compress it. Unable to protect his mother. Unable to stop his father from leaving. Unable to do anything except cry at the injustice.

However, once it ignited, the flames of his fury rose, not in helplessness, but with power. He might not have been able to do anything in the past, but he could fight this injustice. Finally, a battle opened before him he could win.

His control over his Source hadn’t qualified him to learn any techniques, but that didn’t mean he lacked knowledge of controlling his Source—he realized he could even shape it. Almost on instinct, he drew the moisture from the mud coating Song Xue and formed it into a ball of water. He could sense his Source energy inside of it, taking control. It rose from his hand, something he didn’t know he could do, but it felt as natural as breathing.

“[Water Blast]…” he called out and visualized two words of power, not really understanding what he was doing. He willed it to happen. It was like his teacher had said, the music was always there; he just hadn’t been listening to it, and now that he heard it, dancing to its beat was only natural.

The condensed ball of water launched forward, coming alive as if animated by the world itself, and elongated as it shot towards Munro’s smug face. The Duncan boy reacted quickly, throwing his arms up to block, but everyone in the clearing heard the loud crack as the arm broke—a loud screech, more shrill than Song Xue’s, caught the attention of the elders outside the plaza.

Crow’s fighting experience was incomparable among kids his age, and he doubted Murno had ever been on the receiving end of the violence he casually committed. Not that he pitied Munro, nor would he give him a chance to retaliate. It was as his father said, momentum won battles.

Munro’s shock hadn’t abated before a fist crashed into the side of his face. Another immediately followed it. Before long, Munro’s face looked like a slab of pulverized meat. While the Duncan boy started blubbering in fear, a cold smiled appeared on Crow’s face.

It wasn’t just random body strikes either; they were all places Luthais had taught him would cause the most pain. Nerve bundles, sensitive points, and whatever else he could find to maximize the pain and increase the trauma.

Munro’s lackeys tried to stop him, horrified at seeing their leader toyed with like a training dummy. As they approached, Otto stepped forward like a war god. Each of his fists sent the other boys flying several meters, barely able to rise again. Not one of them could even get close to Crow and Munro, and everyone that had ever taunted the giant realized they’d been flirting with death—cold sweat drenched the backs of their shirts.

“Crow! Stop it,” Luthais called out and pulled Crow off Munro, but not before a vicious kicked landed on the limp boy’s ribs. Munro laid there like a bloody lump of clay, his face swollen like a pig.

“D-did he just use the Source?” One of the council members asked. “Please tell me I’m seeing things.”

The entire crowd was watching now, even the older generation. Crow’s anger had burned low, and he calmed even further when he realized that he wouldn’t be able to break free from Lutahis’ grip.

“Let go, uncle. I’m in control.” Luthais grunted in acknowledgment and released him. Otto had backed off and stood by Crow’s side. “Where did Song Xue go?”

Luthais sighed. He’d already seen the girl run off. It was the first time in years he’d seen Crow smiling and could only feel regret and pity for the boy.

“That monster will pay for this!” The Duncan clan head roared angrily.

“Shut up, old man,” Crow growled. “If you raised him properly, I wouldn’t have needed to teach that dog a lesson. Why don’t you ask everyone here what he did before you bark too.”

“Crow!” Luthais said sharply and almost faltered when he heard Otto chuckle. What was going on? “Apologize.”

“No. That garbage can apologize to Song Xue for dumping mud on her. He lacks honor and discipline, which is befitting of a northerner. If the tree is bent, blame the gardener. The only person I’ll apologize to is Song Xue. I—” Crow finally faltered before he once more found his resolve. “I wasn’t able to protect her properly.”

Luthais didn’t know about the mud. He only glimpsed the girl fleeing. He figured they’d just said something nasty to her. “Is this true?”

The crowd averted their eyes guiltily. None of them had said anything, and even those that had seen what was happening hadn’t stopped it. Now they felt wronged by the actions of a fourteen-year-old child. Luthais frowned at the reaction he was seeing, but even a fool could see the truth of things.

“Elder, how do we proceed?” Luthais questioned a member of the council.

“Take the boy and go. We’ll handle it. And little Crow, we’ll give your little girlfriend an accounting for our inability to protect her as well.” The elder said and then looked at Luthais again. “The boy opened his Source? How old is he?”

“Yes, sir. And he is fourteen—but…he opened it last year.”

The crowd murmured, their voices growing louder, demanding answers. Luthais felt a headache coming on, but he held onto both Crow and Otto.

“Explain this and explain why the clan head didn’t tell the council.”

“Sir, it wasn’t his fault,” Crow spoke up. “Ask Mugna, he—he is the reason my father left, he did it to protect me, and-and-and he implied that we should remain silent for now. It was dryads, and a White Lady, they—”

“Stop, boy,” Luthais breathed. “Clan head will come and speak with you, elders.”

“Very well, go. Teach the boy to control his temper.”

Crow’s anger hadn’t completed died, and it flared back up at that moment.

“I’m sorry you think this is about my temper, elder. It isn’t my temper but my anger towards injustice.”

“You’d protect that witch over your own kind?” Esme snorted derisively, finally coming out of her shock.

“I’d protect the innocent from the tyrants. Don’t confuse my principles with your childish words. There are some things people should do and some things that they shouldn’t. Did you enjoy destroying this festival and ruining it for everyone here? You’d do well to remember that lesson, or you may end up like that dog, lying beaten on the ground.”

What? Crow’s words startled most of the elders of the various clans. Was this kid really only fourteen?

“You dare to threaten my daughter—your future wife?” The Teonet clan head asked, anger turning his face purple.

“Isn’t it a simple reminder? People without manners are no better than beasts. Stop putting words in my mouth—you are worse than your daughter.” Crow’s tongue was sharper than a knife, and more than a few chuckles came from the crowd. It was ridiculous seeing a fourteen-year-old reprimanding elder after elder.

It was true, northerners respected honor above all else, and in front of a crowd, the Teonet clan realized they were in the wrong and that arguing with this kid only made them look foolish. The anger didn’t dissipate, but their reason reasserted itself, and they stopped spewing vitriol.

Luthais had already led Crow and Otto out of the park and headed towards home, but they only made it a few blocks before they were stopped by the Song sisters.

“Go on,” Song Lin said and gave Xue’er a shove.

Song Xue approached Crow with her mud-stained dress, and there were still quite a few white Snowdrops woven into the wreath resting upon her head. “T-thank you, little bird.”

“Pfft, who are you calling a little bird?” Crow smiled and leaned to whisper in her ear. “Thank you for dancing with me tonight. I like who you are, don’t let those monsters change you, especially your fierceness. My dad once said that as a cultivator, you are the hunter or the prey. You aren’t prey.”

Song Xue smiled and replied back, “Don’t worry, my prey will never escape me.”

“Huh?” Crow’s thoughts stumbled as her soft lips touched the side of his cheek. With a light chuckle, she turned around and skipped back towards Song Lin.

“Crow, I also want to thank you,” Song Lin said in her normal soft-spoken voice. “She told me what you did for her, and I’ll engrave this favor in my heart.”

They bid each other farewell, and for Crow, nothing changed the next day. He followed his routine—well, not everything stayed the same. Now there were times he would occasionally smile while practicing, and a lot of the bottlenecks disappeared. He could only describe his growth over the next few weeks as explosive.