1 Chapter 1

Winter was approaching so it was a little chilly. Perhaps out of the onset of a new year, Jiling city was simmering with mirth and merriment. Despite the bitingly cold breeze sweeping the streets, no hearts were dampened and were, instead, stimulated to paint the new year into a better tomorrow.

It was indisputable, however, that the most thriving part of the city that evening was the main street. Carriages pulled by lumbering beasts glided down the lane. A few young faces regularly poked their heads out to take in the scenery.

The drenched lanes were filled with people and the noise made by them could be heard everywhere. On both sides of the streets were looming buildings and there were plenty of restaurants and inns among them.

The fragrant smell of the food cooked by the chefs was wafting through the air and lingered for a long period.

A tall, imposing man donning a dark mask was striding down a lane in the main street, his strides wide and graceful.

He did not seem to be in a hurry as his eyes sometimes swept over the brightly lit restaurants and stores lining the main road. He was passing by a small, rundown stand when a soft hand suddenly clutched the hem of his robes. A small frown formed behind his mask as he looked down and locked eyes with a pair of cat-like eyes that shimmered like a myriad of stars.

The little ball clung tightly to the edges of his black robes and appeared to be around ten years old. The little guy had a head of short, glossy, black hair and an honest face. Bundled in rags, the child looked pitiful. But this man did not flinch, not in the slightest.

"Little brother, are you buying anything?" the child invited, his eyes suddenly turning dreadfully cold.

The man's cold hands trembled slightly at hearing the words 'Little Brother'. Then he glanced at the shabby stand nearby. It was very small... In fact, it was the smallest stand he had ever laid his eyes on. Furthermore, it was grimy, derelict, and barely standing.

The man looked down again at the little boy and enquired solemnly, "Is that your stand?" He pointed at the pitiful little stand.

The man's low voice was like a cello; it was reserved yet extremely charming, and very soothing to the ears. The child was befuddled, before regaining his wits once more.

The boy nodded expressionlessly then looked him up and down with a small smile. "Does little brother want to buy anything?"

The man's eyelids twitched, his thoughts freezing up for a moment before a thin smile formed behind his mask and his lips parted. "Yes, I'll buy something. What do you have?"

"Are you sure you can afford it?" the little boy looked at him suspiciously, scanning him and trying to judge how much money he could rip off. This was the first customer in weeks! Didn't master say to 'squeeze the most gold out of potential quarries'?

The man nodded lightly, then the boy ran to his tiny little stand as though his stubby feet had grown wheels, then returned in a flash holding a rather broad item that was wrapped in ragged clothing. The boy held it before him with his small, dainty hands and said to the man, "See if you like it."

The man, amused and a little curious, took the item firmly into his grasp and unwrapped it. The clothe fell off easily and, as it did, a splash of golden light spilled in from the clouds' rifts and filled the streets. Light shone on the clear metal body of the item. It glinted with a cold, silver spark that accentuated the fineness of the metal and the flawless workmanship of the blacksmith. The hilt was durable and well-attached to the broadsword; it fit perfectly in his palm, like a match made in heaven. Or rather, a match only possible from the furnace.

"So, do you like it?" the boy asked expressionlessly, carefully observing the man's reactions. He frowned slightly when he noticed the man's attention was solely glued to the broadsword. "Hey... Did you hear what I said? I—"

"You...who made this?" The masked man asked softly, swiftly draping the item with the messy cloth. His cold hands were trembling slightly, feeling the warm and slack clothe. How could it be... This shape...this material—

The youngster arched a brow at him suspiciously before pursing his lips into a tight, thin line and muttering through his tightly clenched teeth, "It was my master."

"Who is your master then?"

"Can't say," the boy stammered.

The man fell silent, his dark robes swaying faintly in the cool wind and the sharp eyes beneath the mask gleaming with fading, dull light. "...why?"

"...I will be killed otherwise," the youngster's childish voice came out honestly, fear surging into his initially collected eyes and colonizing his being.

The masked man silently stared back at the quivering lad before shoving the blade back into his grasp. "Name your price. I will buy it."

The youth's eyes lit up with joy and he bounced up with ebullience. He gingerly held the rapier and darted back to his small, slack stand. After a short while, he returned like a bolt of lilac lightning with a wide wooden box safely in his small grip.

"Little brother, you are my first customer this week. So I'll offer you a discount. But only you, little brother; my master loathes giving markdowns carelessly. My final price is a hundred gold coins. A pleasure to do business with you," the youth recklessly uttered. Despite the purity in his gaze, his words were immensely deviating.

100 gold coins?! Such an amount could buy fifty carriages easily!

Nonetheless, the man uncaringly produced the money in moments. He placed an exquisite, lilac parcel in the youngster's soft and delicate palm. The youth opened the parcel and his smile grew at the sight of many gold coins.

"Thank you, little brother!" the lad chortled, waving his hand as the man strode away, box in hand. An icy breeze swept by the small stand as the masked man's tall figure disappeared within the crowd. The boy stared at the myriads of people in deviating raiment ambling through the streets. The youth attempted to discern the masked man's figure but failed.

A faint smile was etched on the youth's delicate face as he strode, humming, back into his stand. He sat himself down on a three-legged, wooden stool and leaned back lazily. He shut his eyes tiredly, a warm sheet of sunlight lulling him to sleep.

...

Light shone some distance away from the main street as a caravan of warriors in jet-black armor sped by on their majestic horses.

The leader halted suddenly upon arriving on the thriving main road. He nimbly bolstered himself off his majestic white horse, his silver body of armor glinting in the sun's ashy rays.

The leader calmly approached a senile and grizzled merchant sitting in his store, in a wooden armchair. They conversed for short moments before the trader pointed to the little boy's slack stand.

"I think I saw a strange man, donning a black mask, pass by that stand," the elderly trader said, smoke rising from the burning cigar between his lips.

The leader nodded slightly before dropping an aureate coin in the trader's palm. The geriatric dealer grinned guilefully in satisfaction before pocketing the gold coin. Then his eyes shifted to the shabby stand, the smile on his face fading like a dream into a cold frown. He beers his gaze to the soldiers' cold backs and languidly stood up. Nobody noticed him though.

Meanwhile, the leader led his squad to the shadowy little stand, the crowd dispersing to make way for the stalwart soldiers. Their solid steps made the lane quake slightly, the smallest pebbles bouncing upwards rhythmically.

The puddles of frigid rainwater from the previous night's downpour splashed upwards as the leader took the final step forward. He raised his metal broadsword vertically overhead—it gleamed coldly in the sunlight.

"Little boy! Get out!" the leader's deep voice bellowed. However, there was no response from the battered stand. The air outside seemed to chill with the tense atmosphere. Passersby began to crowd in curiosity to find out what was happening. However, none ever envisioned what would happen next...