It was just past noon when Shen Fei left the study. He had committed several suspicious new expenses in the ledgers to memory. The payees for several newly opened medicinal herb shops did not match up, so he needed to probe their background at the Black Market.
He told the steward he was going out to buy some common cultivation herbs. The steward asked no questions, handed him a money pouch, and went off to attend to other matters.
He returned to his room and changed into a close-fitting outfit of dark gray coarse cloth, removed everything bearing his family's crest, then pulled his hat brim lower and left the estate through a side gate.
Reaching the Black Market meant taking a detour through two old alleys beside the slums in the city's West District. The road was riddled with potholes, the walls were badly peeling, and piles of junk lay uncleared in the corners.
There were few pedestrians, mostly women carrying baskets to buy vegetables and low-tier cultivators with bundles on their backs, all hurrying along.
The closer he got to the Black Market, the more chaotic his surroundings became. Hawkers' cries and the sounds of haggling carried across half a street.
When he reached the third alley, a burst of mocking laughter suddenly came from ahead, mixed with the sounds of shoving.
Shen Fei paused. He had not intended to meddle. He had serious business to attend to, and one less complication was better than one more. But the noise was too close, just around the corner. He hesitated for two seconds, then turned in anyway.
Three adolescents stood in the alley, around fourteen or fifteen years old. They wore brocade robes with fine jade pendants hanging at their waists, clearly sons of minor noble families.
They surrounded a boy in a short, coarse-cloth outfit. Tall and thin, he had been shoved to the ground. The half bag of coarse rice clutched in his hands had spilled everywhere, mingling with the dust until it was filthy.
"Are you blind? You bumped into me and dirtied my clothes. Can you afford to pay for them?" The fat boy leading the group kicked at the rice on the ground, his tone dripping with arrogance.
The boy kept his head lowered and said nothing. His fists were clenched tight, his knuckles white and the veins standing out on the backs of his hands, yet he never raised his head to argue.
Shen Fei leaned against the wall without approaching. He glanced at the rhythm of the boy's breathing and how freely his shoulders and back moved. He could tell the boy had practiced basic breathing exercises, with cultivation around Bronze Rank 3-Star.
The strongest of the three noble boys was only Bronze Rank 2-Star. In a real fight, the boy could easily take all three of them.
He had been about to step forward and say a few words. It was a quarrel between adolescents; there was no need to make it ugly. But just then, the boy suddenly lifted his head slightly, revealing his eyes.
There was no fear in those eyes, no grievance, only hatred held down with crushing force. Like an ember buried in ashes, it seemed insignificant, yet a passing gust could set an entire wasteland ablaze.
Shen Fei suddenly smiled.
He remembered when he had first joined the City Guard in his previous life. There had been many commoner recruits like this in the camp.
When they first went onto the battlefield, they were quiet and never talked back when scolded. But when the Demon Beasts truly charged, these men were always the first to rush forward.
They held a fierce drive bottled up inside, hating the Demon Beasts, hating their own lack of ability, hating the injustice of the world. Many died in their first battle defending the city, but those who survived eventually became the toughest veterans.
The fire in this boy's eyes was exactly like theirs.
The three noble boys cursed him for quite a while. When he kept his head down without a word, they grew bored. They threw out a few more threats, saying they would break his legs the next time they saw him, then sauntered away.
The alley fell quiet all at once. The boy remained seated on the ground, staring at the scattered rice without moving for a long time.
Shen Fei straightened and walked over. He stopped in front of the boy and offered a hand to help him up.
The boy raised his eyes and glanced at him, but did not move. His gaze held wariness and an unyielding stubbornness, as though he did not believe a stranger would help him for no reason.
Shen Fei chuckled softly and withdrew his hand. Unbothered, he crouched down to meet the boy's eyes.
"Do you hate them?" he asked. His voice was level, betraying no emotion.
The boy froze for a moment, apparently not expecting that question. He pressed his cracked lips together and only spoke after several seconds, his voice a little hoarse but hard. "What good would hating them do?"
Exactly. What good would hating them do? They were nobles, with wealth and power behind them. He was just a commoner who couldn't even get a full meal. If he offended them, he wouldn't be able to stay in this neighborhood anymore.
Saying he hated them would do nothing except make him feel worse.
Shen Fei did not answer. He took a small porcelain bottle from inside his robe, poured out a healing pill, and tossed it to the boy. It was an ordinary pill for external injuries, worth very little, but far more effective than the Golden Wound Medicine sold in roadside pharmacies.
The boy caught it and held it in his hand without taking it immediately. He looked up at Shen Fei, his eyes full of confusion, unsure why this man was giving him medicine.
"Follow me." Shen Fei offered no explanation. He stood, turned, and headed deeper into the alley.
He walked at an unhurried pace without looking back, as though certain the boy would follow.
The boy sat on the ground, looking at the porcelain bottle in his hand, then at Shen Fei's retreating back. He hesitated for several seconds.
He glanced down at the rice on the ground and gritted his teeth. Pushing himself up, he brushed the dust off his clothes, tucked the porcelain bottle inside his robe, and actually followed.
He did not know where this man was taking him or what he wanted. But he knew there was nothing to gain from him. He had neither money nor influence. Surely the man could not be after his half bag of coarse rice.
They walked one behind the other for half an incense stick's time, then turned into another, more secluded alley. This one was even more dilapidated, with discarded wooden crates and junk piled on either side. Few people ever came here.
As soon as they reached the entrance, they heard crying inside.
Shen Fei stopped and shifted aside so the boy could see what was happening.
There were three more noble children in the alley, a little younger than the first group, surrounding a child of seven or eight.
The child wore clothes covered in patches and clutched a ragged cloth bundle to his chest. They shoved him back again and again. Tears welled in his eyes, but he gritted his teeth and refused to let them fall.
The three children were trying to snatch his bundle. A few medicinal herbs poked out of it, likely gathered in the mountains to sell at the Black Market.
The boy stopped dead. He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white again, exactly as they had when he was being bullied.
Shen Fei stood beside him and spoke mildly. "Do you want to help him?"
The boy said nothing, his throat bobbing. Only after a long while did he force a word through his teeth. "Yes."
"Then why don't you?" Shen Fei asked.
The boy fell silent. He stood there as though his feet were nailed to the ground. He wanted to rush forward, but did not dare. He had not dared fight back against those three earlier, and now there were another three.
Younger though they were, their families all had status. If he helped this child today, they could bring men to block his doorstep tomorrow. Then neither he nor his sick mother would even have a place to stay.
Shen Fei did not hurry him, merely standing beside him. After another while, he spoke again. "When they bullied you earlier, why didn't you fight back? You're no weaker than they are. Why?"
The boy remained silent. He lowered his head and stared at the tips of his shoes, his shoulders tensing slightly.
"I can see you've practiced basic breathing exercises. Your cultivation is Bronze Rank 3-Star. The strongest of those three was only Bronze Rank 2-Star. If you actually fought, you could put them down with one hand."
Shen Fei's voice was calm, but every word struck the boy's heart. "You have ability. You have talent. Why won't you act?"
The boy jerked his head up, wanting to say something. His mouth opened, but he swallowed the words.
Yes, why wouldn't he act? He was stronger than them. He could beat them. But he didn't dare. He was afraid of offending nobles, afraid of bringing trouble, afraid of making his mother worry.
So he endured and yielded, letting others shove him to the ground and call him a pauper, not daring to utter even half a word in protest.
"Let me tell you, you're squandering heaven's gifts." Shen Fei's tone grew firmer, though his emotions remained steady. "Heaven gave you excellent talent and great ability, yet you don't dare speak up because of their status."
He raised a hand and pointed at the crying child in the alley.
"He's being bullied because he has no ability and no backing. He can't even get access to the most basic cultivation methods, so he can only let others twist him around their fingers. But you're different."
"When you encounter injustice, you shouldn't curse heaven and blame others, or stand by with cold eyes. You should shatter that damned injustice with your own hands."
Shen Fei spoke those words softly, yet they carried a heavy weight.
He remembered his previous self. When he had first transmigrated, he had thought being Gold Rank 1-Star would let him change everything, only to crash against reality until his head split and blood flowed.
Only later had he understood that ideas alone were useless. He had to dare to act, to dare to shatter those rules that seemed untouchable.
The boy stood rooted to the spot, his whole body rigid. He stared blankly at the scene in the alley, those words echoing over and over in his mind. Shatter that damned injustice with your own hands.
He had always felt that his fate was bad, that being born a commoner meant he had to endure. Yet this man said he had talent and ability. He was different.
Yes, why should he endure? He could clearly beat them. He could protect himself and others too. Just because they were nobles, did that mean he deserved to live with his head bowed?
The boy's vacant gaze slowly cleared, finally coming back into focus with a frightening brightness. He clenched his fists, not even feeling the pain as his nails dug into his palms.
He knew what he had to do.
Before Shen Fei could say anything else, the boy drew a deep breath, stepped forward, and charged straight into the alley.
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