11 Peeping

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The window was a blur, steam and the rough quality of the glass made it difficult to see clearly what was behind, but the man's eyes could penetrate these obscurities, clearly seeing the true scene through them.

It was a boy holding a pitchfork, cradling a wrapped bundle in his arms, quietly waiting behind another window.

The boy stared out at the street, his expression calm. His body bore many wounds, and the bandages on his head were still seeping blood, the source of the stench wafting through the air.

With just a glance, the old knight understood, this child was obviously a victim of domestic abuse, now unable to bear it any longer, he was prepared to fight against the parent who had mistreated him.

A scene all too common. He couldn't help but shake his head.

The wanderings of his decades-long career as a fugitive, and the atrocities he had witnessed on the northern frontlines, were all more harrowing than what he saw today, and he had seen similar scenes and acts of retaliatory violence many times in the factory cities along the Western Region coast.

This was a microcosm of the era, an era he had once fought against and ultimately, failed to change.

Domestic violence...

Children are the future of The Empire, how can they be treated thus? Even forced to fight back alone.

This kind of desperate rebellion was bound to fail nearly one hundred percent of the time; after all, how could a child possibly defeat an adult in matters of physical strength?

If it were the man he used to be, he would have intervened without a second thought, punishing the detestable parent, then drawing his side sword to order the local officials or nobles to reflect on why such incidents were occurring in their jurisdictions and domains.

And this child, at worst he could take him back to the orphanage in the Imperial Capital, or arrange for him to join the apprentice program of his Knight Order, for a child with the courage to stand up to adult violence was worth his time and effort to cultivate.

But now, himself and the current state of the world...

The old man shook his head slightly.

Even if he killed the child-abusing parent, this child would not be able to survive in this frontier port on his own power, especially since he would be branded with the infamy of having killed his kin.

And with his current status as a wanted man, it was impossible to take a child with him, as it would only do more harm.

"A dead end."

The old knight sighed heavily. He had intended to leave, yet he remained where he was.

He made up his mind to help the boy secretly when the time came.

No matter what, he did not want to see a child die today... As for the future, that would be dealt with when it came.

Who knows if a miracle might occur?

Yet.

What happened next was certainly beyond the old knight's expectations.

As the sun set, a man with a sinister face and a limping gait returned to the dilapidated house. The boy by the window tightened his grip on the pitchfork and the sack, then walked over to the corridor to prepare.

It was about to begin. The old knight thought. Perhaps it was almost time for him to make his move.

But that moment never came.

"What... what?!"

Hidden outside the window, the old knight, who had been ready to intervene, watched, astonished, as the White Folks boy, through a sneak attack and Sleep Powder, easily took down the man who was clearly addicted to fungus, and then tied him up on a fish-cleaning table with a skill that was bafflingly proficient.

He thought to himself that even his own skills were not so adept... Of course, he never needed to tie someone up; breaking limbs and dislocating joints was sufficient.

After finishing his work, the boy took a drink of water and rested for a moment.

What followed was the sharpening of a knife.

Sharpening a knife made it more lethal and also served as a process for steeling one's resolve; the old knight could tell that the boy, relieved after dealing with the man, regained his composed demeanor through the act of sharpening.

He was determined.

The man woke up, struggling continuously, seemingly trying to speak, but as his mouth was stuffed with a rag, he was incapable of uttering a single coherent word.

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And the boy merely observed everything impassively, and then he spoke, making the other person even more frantic, to the point of terror-induced incontinence before neatly drawing his knife.

"Resolute!"

Watching the boy act and kill the man with his own eyes, it was not until this moment that the old knight could not help but praise, "What a promising young seed!"

If this had been in the past, he would even have been unable to resist the urge to take the other as his own knight apprentice. Such decisive youngsters were hard to find even in military families or among the nobility of the frontier regions, let alone in this remote port.

And now... he was somewhat anxious.

After the murder, had the boy already thought about how to manage the aftermath?

To kill with a moment's passion, courage, and wisdom was indeed feasible, but dealing with the body was always more difficult, far more than killing a person.

Given the boy's strength, it would be difficult to carry the body out of town for burial intact, and if he were to dismember the body, he would have to be careful not to leave too many traces and blood—there were many hunters in Harrison Port, and leaving too many traces would make detection easy.

Not to mention, with no adults at home, this might not be much better than being abused every day for a boy of seven or eight years of age.

"What exactly will you do?"

The man stood outside the window, holding his breath, half heavy-hearted and half expectant, waiting for the boy's next move.

While waiting for the "anomaly" along the coast to appear, such an unexpected incident was enough to make him stop and observe.

But the scene inside the house once again astonished the old knight.

He widened his eyes and saw that after resting for a while, the boy inside the house didn't bother with the corpse that was gradually stiffening.

The boy turned around, took the stored sparks from the brazier, lit the stove, poured water into the pot, and took out dried meat and fish...

He was actually starting to cook a meal right in front of the dead man!

In front of a corpse that had only recently breathed its last, he was able to cook meat in the pot, light a fire to grill fish, and eat with relish.

This kind of mental fortitude may not be much for a veteran, but for a boy of eight or nine, it was enough to draw attention.

"Spirit Energy User."

At this moment, the old knight had already seen the flickers of light in the boy's eyes, and he couldn't help but clap his hands, "This quality..."

In the boy's eyes, the water-colored pupils were flickering with a warm light, which was not the reflection of moonlight but a glow from within the soul. It was the most representative characteristic of a Spirit Energy User.

This quality could not be simply described as 'excellent.'

Even for noble families with both parents being Spirit Energy Users, who stimulate the fetus with Spirit Energy from conception, just having such favorable family conditions did not guarantee the child would become a Spirit Energy User after growing up, with the awakening rate not exceeding thirty percent.

Ultimately, Spirit Energy requires a strong will, and apart from those born with awakened Spiritual Power—natural "Chosen One"—all Spirit Energy Users obtained later in life possess a will and resilience above ordinary people; that is the key point.

"Being able to successfully resist and kill the person who abused you is not an accident."

Watching the boy inside the house closely, the old knight was now very interested in what he would do next.

He could see that after finishing his meal and resting for a while, the boy began to clean the scene, arrange the corpse, open the window to air out the stench of blood.

Then, the boy went inside, caressed the face of his younger brother, and fed him porridge.

The old knight heard the boy's soft murmurs, revealing firmness and determination, words about protecting his own family.

—He's a good kid. That's what he thought.

After settling his younger brother, the white-haired, green-pupil boy dragged the body out of the house, while the old man with grey-brown eyes wearing a dark cyan robe, walked in the distinct shadows.

The knight followed quietly behind the boy in the moonlight.

Since being wanted by The Empire over a decade ago, he had been fleeing in hiding, nameless and faceless, having experienced countless assaults and pursuits. Yet, it was the first time he was tracking a child not yet ten years old.