The skies above the southern city were calm—soft, golden clouds drifting lazily across the pale blue horizon.
But inside a small rented house hidden between broken alleys and forgotten streets, a storm was raging—not in the air, but within a child's heart.
The room was quiet. Too quiet. The scent of old incense barely covered the moldy walls. The small window let in a shaft of afternoon light, which landed on a girl curled in the corner.
She was trembling.
Thin arms wrapped around her knees. Her hair hung in tangled strands over her scarred face. Her eyes—once perhaps filled with wonder—were now dulled by fear. She hadn't spoken since they returned. Not a word. Not a sound beyond the occasional choked breath and sob.
Xuan Long stood by the door, arms crossed, watching her.
His face was calm—but not indifferent. There was a quiet tension in his jaw, a sharpness in his gaze. Not aimed at her, but at the shadows that clung to her soul. At the ghosts of the past that refused to let her go.
"You're dirty," he said gently. "Go take a bath. I'll wait just outside. If you need anything, call me."
She didn't move.
Instead—
She screamed.
"PLEASE!! Don't kill me!! I'll do whatever you say!! Please, I'll be good!! I'll be good!!"
She dropped to the floor, covering her head with her arms, body shivering as if expecting a whip to land any second.
Xuan Long walked forward, knelt down—and pulled her into his arms.
The girl gasped, tense as stone, ready to be struck.
But no strike came.
"I'm not here to hurt you," he whispered. "You're safe now."
"From now on… you're my little sister."
"No one will bully you again. Not while I live."
She didn't speak. She didn't stop crying. Instead, her sobs only grew more violent.
"Father… Mother… don't die… please… don't die…"
Her voice was small, hoarse, broken.
She collapsed into his chest, sobbing until her throat could no longer produce sound.
Xuan Long didn't speak again. He simply held her.
Then, after a long silence, he stood.
"Stay here," he said gently. "I'll be back soon."
City Market – Beneath the Crowds
Xuan Long moved through the marketplace with silent purpose.
Vendors shouted offers, stalls burst with fabric and metal and food. Children darted between legs, beggars wailed by temple steps. The city moved as if blind to cruelty.
But he wasn't blind.
His steps led him to a toy stand, then a clothing stall.
He chose a small, soft pink dress. A pair of light sandals. A hair ribbon—rose-colored. And a plush rabbit doll with button eyes.
The shopkeeper looked at him oddly, this grim man with a glare of steel buying children's toys and dresses.
But Xuan Long said nothing. He paid in spirit coins, took the items, and vanished into the alleys.
Back at the Rented House
When he opened the door, he saw her still in the same spot—curled into herself, arms wrapped tight like a shield.
She looked up with bloodshot eyes and flinched.
"I didn't do anything wrong," she whispered. "Please don't hit me. I didn't mean to be bad…"
Xuan Long's heart clenched.
He set the bundle down and knelt.
"I'm sorry if I scared you," he said quietly. "But I won't raise my hand to you. Not ever."
"You can cry. You can scream. You can even throw your food at me. I'll never hit you. I'll never scold you."
He opened the bundle—revealing the dress, the shoes, the ribbon, and the plush rabbit.
Her eyes widened. She stared in confusion.
"This is all yours now," he said. "You don't have to earn it. You don't have to beg for it."
"If there's anything else you want… you just tell me."
Her small fingers reached out slowly—trembling—and touched the rabbit's fur.
She pulled it to her chest like a treasure.
Her lips parted, but no sound came.
The Bath – Beneath the Dirt and Blood
He carried her to the bath chamber, a small wooden room with a basin filled with warm water he'd prepared earlier.
When he helped her remove the tattered rags, his breath caught.
Scars.
Bruises.
Some fresh, some ancient. Burns along her arms. A deep lash mark down her back. Wounds that had never been treated. Signs of starvation. Her ribs jutted beneath her skin like sharp branches.
His hands trembled.
He said nothing.
But his eyes burned with something dangerous.
"Monsters…" he muttered under his breath.
Carefully, he washed her skin with warm water, dabbing each wound gently. He applied healing salve with practiced fingers. Not as a warrior. Not as a killer.
But as a brother.
She said nothing. Her eyes were closed. But a tear slid down her cheek as the pain faded into warmth.
When the bath was done, he dressed her in the new pink dress. He tied the ribbon gently into her messy hair.
Then, for the first time, he led her to the mirror.
She stared.
Her lips trembled.
And she blinked.
The girl in the reflection was no longer a slave.
She was just… a child.
Dinner – Fear Still Lingers
He carried her to the low table and placed soft bread, sliced fruit, and warm broth on the plate.
He didn't force her to eat. He just picked up a piece of bread, dipped it in honey, and offered it to her.
She took it—nervously—and began to chew.
Halfway through, a piece dropped from her lips onto her lap.
She froze.
Her body went rigid.
"I'm sorry!!" she cried. "Please don't slap me!! I won't drop food again!!"
Her hands went up to cover her face.
Xuan Long reached out slowly and took her hand in his.
"Even if you throw every piece of food at me," he said, "I'll still feed you."
"I don't care if you make a mess. I don't care if you cry. You are allowed to be a child."
She looked at him—eyes trembling.
And this time, she didn't cry.
She nodded.
And continued eating.
Slowly.
Carefully.
But not fearfully.
That Night – Beneath the Moonlight
Later, Xuan Long laid out two floor mats in the corner of the room. He dimmed the lamp. The moonlight poured through the window, silvering the dusty walls.
The girl stood still for a long moment, holding the rabbit against her chest.
Then, slowly, she walked over… and slid into his arms.
She was so small.
Her tiny arms wrapped around his torso. Her face pressed into his chest.
Even in sleep, her lips moved.
"Please… don't go…"
"Don't leave me…"
"I want to stay with you…"
Xuan Long held her close, tucking the blanket around her tiny frame.
He didn't sleep.
His eyes stayed open, watching the ceiling.
"I'm not going anywhere," he whispered.
"Not now."
"Not ever."
And beneath the soft breath of a child, under the pale light of the stars, Xuan Long wasn't a cultivator.
He wasn't a demon.
He wasn't a killer.
He was… a big brother.
And for the first time in years—
He felt whole.