“People reside within qi and qi resides within people. From heaven and earth down to the ten thousand things, each one requires qi to live.” - Ge Hong 283-343 AD

Jin Long was led to a remote part of the village occupied by three abandoned huts. The dwellings sat near the village’s outer perimeter wall, which boasted ten meters in height and was wide enough for three guards to patrol laterally.

“Muksha, baknah!” shouted one of the hunters. The greasy-haired man shoved Jin Long towards the hut on the left.

Any normal man put into the boy’s situation would have feared for his life. One couldn’t help but feel inferior facing the three herculean hunters. Each man towered at over six feet five, and Jakabu, the most intimidating specimen of them all, was approaching six feet seven. They purposefully wore sleeveless fur vests that made no effort to hide their bulging biceps.

But Jin Long expressed none of that fear or amazement. As a cultivator, the boy relied on a sense of confidence from having understood and dominated certain laws of reality. Whereas the hunters could snap bones with their bare hands, the boy could crush bones without lifting a finger. A non-cultivator stood absolutely no chance against a master qi user like Jin Long in a direct confrontation.

Jakabu uttered something in the village dialect. His companions ventured into the pitchblack hut with their torches, leaving the boy and Jakabu by the doorway. The room began to brighten little by little as the men lit various wooden fixtures on the walls. Once his sight returned, Jin Long noticed that the hut had been stripped bare. The only objects in the hut were numerous shackles that haphazardly lay on the ground near a vertical support beam.

While the hunters weren’t exactly gentle with Jin Long and eyed him with distrust, they didn’t try to harm the boy. Jin Long was shackled to the wooden beam, one shackle for each limb, and then left alone. Seeing that the boy didn’t speak their language, there was no attempt at communication, which suited Jin Long just fine. He wasn’t happy about his treatment, but he understood the villagers’ distrust in strangers. The natural laws of the world favored the strong, so the weak had to live prudently if they wanted a chance to survive.

“Seems like everywhere I go people want me locked up,” Jin Long commented to himself. He played with the manacles on his wrists. “Hopefully, they’ll provide some meals at least.” The boy clutched his stomach at the thought of food. He sat down and leaned against the pole. “Maybe I’ll try and take a nap. I want to see if it’s as refreshing as I remember.” Figuring he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, Jin Long made himself comfortable and closed his eyes.

Jakabu was a man of ambition. He wasn’t particularly bloodthirsty as some of the other village hunters, but he honed an ability to focus and perform when it mattered. This evening, he had stalled old man Hatukni just as his aunt had ordered. Jakabu knew Hatukni had returned from kayamah al makubo to treat Wambi’s sickness. If Wambi died, it would cast doubt on Hatukni’s abilities and open up the idea that Hatukni wasn’t the god-healer some made him out to be. But the sabotage required finesse; Wambi’s death couldn’t be seen as caused by outside interference.

However, Jakabu didn’t expect the old man to bring a stranger back from the trip. Last he checked, the ruins were deserted, and the boy didn’t look like he was someone from the area. The boy’s bizarre clothing added to Jakabu’s confusion. Faced with an unexpected variable, he decided to keep the boy under locks until he had a chance to consult his aunt.

Jakabu observed the boy secretly from the moment he laid eyes on him. There was no fear in the boy’s eyes, even after they led him away from the residences towards the village’s isolation huts. His behavior wasn’t at all like that of the village kids. Not only was the boy calm, he exhibited certainty, as if Jakabu and his companions were the ones at his mercy. Jakabu’s sense of danger had been fine tuned from years of hunting deadly beasts, and they were tingling tonight, screaming at him to run.

“Must have drank more yellow grass rum than I thought,” Jakabu admitted, shrugging off his jitters. After they imprisoned the boy, Jakabu departed for the village center where the chief and other prominent families resided.

Jakabu trekked through the village’s various layers. The village was organized based on social hierarchy. The village chief and village elders lived in huts near the center, forming the first layer. From there outwards was the second layer, a ring of huts occupied by the village hunters and their families. The hunters were widely respected since they provided meat and defended the village from baknahs. It was every boy’s dream to become a hunter, and it was every girl’s dream to marry one.

The third layer was composed of an even larger ring of huts around the second layer. Most of the villagers, who provided useful services, such as smithing and tailoring, lived in the third layer. Lastly, the fourth layer, by the perimeter wall, consisted of villagers who had little standing or little to offer. Anyone who lived in this layer were considered pariahs, allowed to coexist only because they made the other villagers feel good about themselves.

When Jakabu entered his aunt’s hut, he was bombarded with a pungent smell. It wasn’t an herby-type smell, rather it reminded Jakabu of decomposing fruit and dried carcasses, tangy and unwholesome. He remembered how he hated his aunt’s place as a kid with its gloomy lighting and weird skulls. It creeped him out then, and it unnerved him even now.

“How did it go?” hissed his aunt, emerging from the shadows. Jakabu jumped. For a grown man like Jakabu, he wasn’t afraid of much, but his aunt had an uncanny ability to appear from the unlikeliest places. Plus, her bloodshot eyes and black-feathered cowl accentuated her eccentricity.

“Aunt Madessa, as per your orders, I successfully got rid of Wambi’s medicine and made it look like an accident. The seamstress doesn’t suspect a thing. I also tried to stall Hatukni tonight, but there is something else you should know,” Jakabu reported.

“Yes, I know,” his aunt snapped. “My men told me Hatukni brought a boy to the village. The boy supposedly wears a magical golden dress. How fascinating.” Madessa’s eyes gleamed madly.

“He’s dangerous.” Jakabu’s sudden remark spurred a raised brow from Madessa. “I mean, I don’t know how to explain it. There’s something about the boy I can’t put my fingers on. Anyways, I have him locked up in one of the isolation huts on charges of spying. I suspect you would like to meet him for yourself.”

“Thank you dear. I knew there was a reason I chose you for this job,” replied Madessa. She moved closer and reached out to caress Jakabu’s cheeks. Since Jakabu was substantially taller, the woman had to tiptoe to barely touch his face. “After your parents died, I tried my best to raise you. I think they’ll be proud of the man you turned out to be.”

Jakabu swiftly intercepted his aunt and pushed her hands away.

“I’m not a charity case. You know I’m only helping you because we’re family. Furthermore, you promised me you’d find a way for me to marry the chief’s daughter, and there hasn’t been any progress lately. I’m growing impatient,” said Jakabu threateningly. After years of dealing with his aunt, he had learned not to fall prey to her witchery and charm.

“Patience, dear. You will receive what you deserve in due time. Now, report the situation to the chief and give him this for his cough. Tell him it's medicine from me to relieve his pain.” Madessa pulled out a flask made out of animal bone and handed it to Jakabu.

Jakabu took the bottle and left. When the hunter disappeared from view, another man slinked out from the shadows. In comparison to Jakabu, this man was thin and gaunt. He had a hollow look about him, but his eyes held the same emerald quality as Jakabu’s.

“Mother, I don’t know why you tolerate his arrogance?” the man asked in a nasally voice. “I want to pound that smug face into the ground.”

“Hush baby. He still as his uses. Ambitious and cocky, like his father. Once you become the village chief, we can dispose him all the same.”

“But I want the chief’s daughter for myself! She’s of marriageable age this year. I will not allow Jakabu or any other man to deflower her,” the man whined. He licked his lips in lust.

“Shut up, Kielshu! I only wish you had half your cousin’s competence. You will be wise not do anything rash and ruin my plans. Go inform Elder Vushina and Elder Paroka I want to meet them tomorrow. Once you’re done, figure out why the two men I had posted near the forest failed to ambush Hatukni on his return,” Madessa barked.

Kielshu shut his mouth and scurried out of the hut. “Just wait mother, one day you will pay for the humiliation I suffered all these years,” the man fumed.

The light from early dawn peeked through the cracks in Fang’s hut. The old man came around just as it began to get louder outside. Many of the villagers had woken up to start their day.

“Ouch,” Fang blurted. He had worked late into the night and administered the medicine to Wen Er before he passed out on his work desk. Since then, the adrenaline in his body had run dry, and right now Fang felt incredible soreness and pain. His broken ankle sent periodic spasms up his leg. However, Fang spared no thought for himself as he anxiously checked Wen Er’s vitals.

“Good, her breathing and pulse have stabilized,” Fang thought, relief flooding through his veins. He wouldn’t know the full extent of the damage to her body until she woke up and let him run some diagnostic tests. Fang prayed that the sickness had spared the girl’s meridians.

Someone knocked on the door. Fang grabbed a wooden staff by the corner and walked over to receive the guest. Upon opening the door, he was greeted by the delectable smell of pork buns and roasted chicken. The individual who brought the food was none other the village seamstress, wearing a grey tunic and a headscarf that hid her wild black hair.

“Milani, you didn’t have to,” said Fang.

“Nonsense, Hatukni. You have traveled a long journey to save Wambi. I’m only expressing thanks on her behalf,” Milani replied, beaming at the old man. She entered the hut and placed the tray of food on his work desk.

“Wen Er’s doing fine. The Mika herbs worked better than I thought.”

Fang invited Milani to sit, and the woman happily accepted. There was an awkward moment of silence between the two.

“Poor child.” Milani looked at Wen Er sympathetically .

“Yes, Wen Er has suffered a lot, but she’s a strong girl. Had she lost the will to live, even my medical skills would have been ineffective.”

The woman looked at Fang and smiled.

“Wambi is lucky to have you then. Are you feeling okay by the way?” Milani glanced at Fang’s swollen ankle.

Fang quickly waved it off as nothing. Being cared for felt good for a change. He liked hanging out with Milani. She was observant, kind, and open-minded. Her husband died when she was in her early twenties, before Fang had arrived. Despite the tragedy, she learned to make a living by sewing and designing clothes. Fang knew the village ostracized her after she became a widow, but they couldn’t deny her talents, allowing her to stay in the third layer.

“Umm, you don’t mind if I…” Fang pointed at the buns. The smell of food reminded him just how hungry he was.

“Of course not, they’re for you, the hero of the story,” said Milani amusingly.

“I’m no hero,” Fang replied in between bites. “I met an extraordinary boy on this trip who’s the real hero. I wouldn’t have returned in time to save Wen Er if it weren’t for him. Oh, that reminds me. Could you do me a favor, Milani?”

“Yes. What would you like help with?” There was no hesitation in her reply.

“I need to make it up to her sometime. She’s too kind,” Fang thought.

“Jakabu and the others locked the boy from yesterday in one of the isolation huts. Could you bring some food to him? I have no doubt he’s starved. And would you let him know I’m working on getting him released?” asked Fang. “I’m sorry to bother you with this request. It’s just that I owe him a lot, and I would’ve gone myself if I didn’t need to keep tabs on Wen Er.”

“No, no. Don’t worry. Right now you should make sure Wambi’s okay. Business is kind of slow these days, so I’ll have time to visit him later.”

Milani got up and moved towards the door.

“I need to get going Hatukni. I just wanted to drop by and make sure everything’s okay. And I also wanted to apologize for spilling Wambi’s medicine. Heaven knows what would have happened if you didn’t come back in time,” said Milani, guilt contorting her face.

Fang limped over and grabbed Milani by the shoulders to comfort her.

“Look it’s not your fault. I haven’t even had to time to properly thank you for taking care of Wen Er while I was away. You may not know it, but you’ve been a blessing to the two of us.”

Milani smiled shyly.

“Hatukni, that was nicest thing you’ve said to me. I will visit the boy and pass your message on.”

Fang nodded, watching Milani readjust her headscarf and step out.

“Milani, I’m curious about one thing,” Fang began.

“Hmm?” She turned around and gazed at Fang curiously.

“I haven’t heard you speak in the village dialect to me in at least two months. Didn’t you say you were practicing the common tongue?”

“Oh, I still am. But it’s nice to have a proper conversation with you once in awhile. Anyways, tata.” Milani grinned and waved goodbye.

Fang stood at the doorway, watching her silhouette shrink into the distance. An indescribable yearning shook him at his core. “Refocus your thoughts old man. She’s too young for you,” Fang persuaded himself.

Although Fang was over 70-years-old, his cultivation slowed his aging and bestowed him with a naturally younger appearance. To outsiders, Fang may have only looked like he was in a late forties or early fifties, though deep down he felt much older. In comparison, Milani was actually in her early forties, perfectly capable of finding another man to settle down.

Fang shut the door with a sigh. A man like him didn’t deserve a normal life. “I will live out the rest of my days atoning for these bloodstained hands,” thought Fang, looking at his palms.

[Chapter End]