Hengyin City — Mid-Autumn Festival

  The streets of Hengyin City burst with color.

  Lanterns floated on invisible strings above tiled roofs. Red, gold, and sea-green banners rippled with every breeze. Merchants shouted over one another, hawking fried spirit lotus, ghost pepper buns, and sweet rice jellies infused with low-tier qi.

  Amid the noise, three figures walked calmly through the crowd—one dressed in obsidian robes with silver trim, his hands behind his back, face obscured by a soft black veil.

  Joshua.

  Beside him, Fenrir munched aggressively on skewered meat, already eyeing the next stall. “Are we really here just for herbs, Master?”

  On Joshua’s other side, Lyra floated through the noise like a wind chime—unbothered, serene, and utterly uninterested in the festivities.

  Joshua gave a rare smile. “Sometimes, even cultivators must rest. The herbs are real. But so is the joy.”

  He paused to buy a bundle of flame-root and yulan petals from an elderly vendor.

  Then the moment shattered.

  ---

  A Thief’s Mistake

  It happened in an instant.

  A blur in the crowd.

  Joshua barely noticed the shift in air.

  Then—a snap at his side.

  He turned just in time to see a small figure dashing away, slipping between startled vendors and onlookers.

  Fenrir cursed. “He took something from your sleeve!”

  Lyra was already moving, her steps fluid.

  But Joshua raised a hand.

  “No need. Let’s follow.”

  His voice was calm. Curious.

  He turned, eyes narrowing at the distant shape now leaping over crates, weaving through lantern strings. There was a rhythm to the thief’s steps. Not trained—natural. Wild.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “Interesting,” Joshua murmured.

  ---

  Chasing the Ghost

  They followed casually—not sprinting, just walking steadily as the thief turned corner after corner into South Lantern Ward, where the glamour of Hengyin faded into shadow.

  Here, the city changed—narrower alleys, buildings leaning like broken teeth, lanterns replaced by flickering torches and silent doors.

  Fenrir muttered, “Definitely the slums.”

  They turned a corner—

  —and stopped.

  The alley ahead was empty. Dead end.

  But Joshua pointed upward.

  A figure sat on the rooftop, one leg dangling, chewing on a red hawthorn berry.

  He was young. Fifteen, maybe sixteen. Skin tan, hair black with streaks of dusty bronze. His eyes shimmered slightly in the dusk—like molten gold.

  He tossed the berry stem down.

  “You tracked me.”

  Fenrir growled. “You robbed our Master.”

  “Did I?” the boy said innocently, flipping a coin in one hand. “Maybe I just took something no one else noticed.”

  He held up a folded piece of parchment—Joshua’s recently acquired cultivation script for Refined Pulse Extraction, a rare technique for unlocking blocked meridians.

  Joshua said nothing.

  But his gaze fixed on the boy’s hands—his fingers were unnaturally long, agile, marked with crimson-gray veins that shimmered faintly under the moon.

  Lyra noticed too.

  She stepped forward, eyes narrowing.

  ---

  A Bloodline Revealed

  The boy flicked the parchment into the air.

  “I figured someone rich as you wouldn’t miss one little script.”

  He caught it again and bowed mockingly.

  “Name’s Kael, by the way. Street-born. Half-blood. Nobody important.”

  Fenrir tensed. “You’re... not just street.”

  Kael grinned. “Smart one.”

  He held up his arm, turned it palm up. With a focused breath, a thin wave of red-black blood qi spiraled along his skin.

  Joshua’s eyes glinted.

  Bloodline resonance.

  Kael noticed his expression and nodded. “Yeah. My mom was from the Chi'zhang Clans. Blood-touched. Dad was a baker. I got left with neither.”

  He tossed the script back down. Joshua caught it gently.

  “Why steal?” Joshua asked softly.

  Kael’s smile faltered. “Why not? I get caught, they beat me. I get lucky, I eat. That’s balance, right?”

  Lyra wrote a single word on the wall with a chalk shard:

  Excuse?

  Kael snorted. “You mute and righteous?”

  Fenrir stepped forward. “You shouldn’t mock her.”

  Kael raised a hand. “Hey, hey. No offense.”

  Then his gaze slid back to Joshua.

  “You’re not mad? No flames? No shouty morals?”

  Joshua studied him for a moment.

  Then he spoke.

  “Your bloodline is awakening. But it’s untrained. If you keep drawing qi without understanding, your organs will begin to rupture within a year.”

  Kael blinked.

  Joshua walked to the wall and stepped easily onto a stone ledge, rising to eye-level.

  “I offer one choice,” he said. “Come to Flowind Sect. Learn. Control what you are.”

  Kael scoffed. “Join a sect? I’m no disciple material.”

  “You already passed your first trial,” Joshua said.

  “What trial?”

  “You survived,” Lyra wrote softly on the wall.

  Kael stared. For a moment, the boy’s smirk cracked.

  “…What’s the catch?”

  “There is none. You may leave now, and I will not follow.”

  Joshua turned, beginning to walk.

  “Wait.”

  Kael dropped from the rooftop, landing lightly.

  He looked between the three of them.

  “…Can I bring someone?”

  Joshua stopped.

  “My little sister,” Kael added quickly. “She’s six. Sick. I take care of her.”

  Joshua nodded. “Both of you, then.”

  Kael looked stunned.

  “…Huh. This really your recruitment pitch?”

  Fenrir grinned. “You’ll get used to it.”

  ---

  Nightfall, Return to Sect

  By nightfall, Kael had packed everything he owned—a threadbare pack, his sister asleep in his arms, wrapped in an old quilt.

  They took the spirit lift back to Flowind Peak.

  When they arrived, the wind welcomed them with slow, sweeping silence.

  Kael looked around at the open temple courtyards, the quiet stone paths lit by spirit lanterns.

  “Smells like incense and pretension,” he muttered.

  Joshua knelt by his sister and placed a hand over her chest. After a brief hum of golden qi, the girl stirred slightly and breathed easier.

  “She’ll sleep. Her spirit is weak, but it can be restored.”

  Kael whispered, “...Thank you.”

  Joshua turned.

  “You’ll begin training tomorrow. You may eat first. Fenrir—”

  “Got it,” Fenrir said, taking Kael’s bag and leading him toward the dormitory.

  Lyra lingered a moment longer, eyes fixed on the boy’s fingers—still pulsing faintly with bloodlight.

  She turned and disappeared into the silent wing of the sect.

  ---

  Closing Reflections

  In his private chamber, Joshua placed the stolen script back on his shelf.

  He exhaled slowly.

  Three.

  Three threads, now woven.

  A boy of flame and fury.

  A girl of silence and echo.

  A thief of blood a

  nd sorrow.

  He looked to the distant north, where black clouds twisted like claws over the horizon.

  “Not enough,” he whispered.

  “Not yet.”

  But the Flowind Sect had begun to move.

  And the world would not remain still for long.