The courtyard of the servants' quarter basked in the golden light of late afternoon, its green walls casting long shadows across the ancient stone at its center.
Song followed Rill toward the green double gates, his new white clothes crisp against his skin, a stark contrast to the filthy rags of his past.
The air was warm, laced with the scent of moss and polished wood, yet a faint unease gnawed at him.
His Tattoo of Dominion, now a fiery ring around his forearm, pulsed faintly, its warmth a reminder of the Fruit of Raging Fire and the old man's cryptic words.
I'm no longer the same, he thought, his fingers brushing the tattoo.
But am I truly free?
Rill walked ahead, her white qipao swaying with each step, her dark hair catching the sunlight.
Her cheerful demeanor was infectious, but Song caught glimpses of the sadness she'd hidden earlier, a shadow lurking behind her bright smile.
What's her story? he wondered, his instincts honed by years of survival.
She seemed kind, but kindness in his world often came with a price.
The courtyard was quiet, its numbered doors closed, the benches empty save for the faint echo of their footsteps.
The ancient stone loomed in the center, its mossy sides etched with faint, weathered runes.
Song's gaze lingered on it, his tattoo pulsing in rhythm with an unseen energy.
It's not just a rock, he thought, a chill running through him.
There was power here, old and dormant, stirring faintly in response to his presence.
Rill glanced back, her smile unwavering.
"Come on, Brother Song," she called, her voice light.
"The Magistrate's waiting. We don't want to keep them grumpy!"
Song nodded, quickening his pace, but his eyes darted to the stone.
The runes seemed to shimmer, a fleeting glow that vanished when he blinked.
Am I imagining things? he thought, his heart racing.
The Fruit of Raging Fire had changed him, sharpened his senses, but it also left him questioning what was real.
As they reached the gates, Rill pushed them open, revealing a bustling street beyond.
The servants' quarter was a maze of low buildings, their roofs tiled in dark green, their walls adorned with intricate carvings of mythical beasts.
Servants in white hurried about, carrying baskets, scrolls, or tools, their faces a mix of focus and fatigue.
The air buzzed with activity, the clatter of carts and the murmur of voices filling the space.
"This is Media," Rill said, gesturing proudly.
"The heart of the servants' quarter."
"Everyone here works for the great forces—Lunar Phoenix, Iron Serpent, Starlit Blade, Dark Cloud."
"You're lucky to be here, Song. Not many get this chance."
Song's jaw tightened.
Chance or chain? he thought, his past as a slave making him wary.
The clans had saved him from the Twilight Lords, but their dismissal of the slaves as "resources" lingered in his mind.
He followed Rill through the streets, his eyes scanning the crowd.
Servants moved with purpose, but their postures spoke of obedience, their freedom as fragile as his own.
Rill's voice broke his thoughts.
"The Magistrate will test your cultivation and assign your duties," she said, her tone cheerful.
"With your First Lord strength, you'll likely start with simple tasks—cleaning, carrying, maybe assisting in the forges."
"But work hard, and you'll earn merit points for the martial library."
Song's interest piqued.
"Library?" he asked, his voice low.
Rill's eyes lit up.
"Hundreds of thousands of texts!" she said, her hands gesturing wildly.
"Cultivation methods, combat techniques, even ancient histories."
"It's the largest in the region. If you're smart, you'll use it to grow stronger."
Song's heart raced.
Knowledge is power, he thought, his mind flashing to the old man's tales of legendary warriors.
The library could be his path to strength, to breaking the chains of his past.
But a nagging doubt lingered—would the clans truly let a former slave rise?
They passed a training ground, where servants sparred under the watchful eyes of armored instructors.
Their movements were disciplined, their techniques precise, but Song noticed the collars around their necks, faint but unmistakable.
Not slaves, but not free, he thought, his stomach twisting.
Rill caught his gaze, her smile faltering.
"Don't worry," she said, misreading his expression.
"You'll train too, once you're settled."
"The great forces value strong servants."
Song nodded, keeping his thoughts to himself.
He needed to understand this place, to find its cracks, its opportunities.
The Magistrate's building loomed ahead, a squat structure of dark stone, its entrance flanked by statues of winged serpents.
Rill led him inside, the air cool and heavy with the scent of ink and old parchment.
The hall was lined with desks, where clerks scribbled on scrolls, their faces stern.
At the far end sat an elderly man in a gray robe, his eyes sharp despite his age.
"This is Elder Tan," Rill whispered.
"He'll assess you."
Song approached, his heart pounding.
Elder Tan's gaze was piercing, his spiritual sense brushing against Song like a cold wind.
"Name?" the elder asked, his voice gruff.
"Song," he replied, standing tall.
The elder's eyes narrowed, his sense probing deeper.
Song's tattoo pulsed, a faint warmth spreading, and Elder Tan's brows rose slightly.
"Your Tattoo of Dominion," he said, his tone curious.
"One stripe, yet… unusual."
He leaned forward, his gaze locking onto Song's arm.
"Unwrap the bandage."
Song hesitated, then complied, revealing the fiery ring encircling his forearm.
The tattoo glowed faintly, its edges sharp, its presence commanding.
Elder Tan's eyes widened, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.
"This is no ordinary mark," he muttered, almost to himself.
"An elemental awakening, perhaps?"
Song's pulse quickened.
Rill had mentioned the Dark Cloud leader's interest, but hearing it from an elder felt different.
What does it mean? he thought, his mind racing.
The Fruit of Raging Fire had changed him, but the extent of that change was still a mystery.
Elder Tan leaned back, his expression unreadable.
"Your cultivation is First Lord, but your potential… intriguing."
"You'll start with basic duties—cleaning the forges, delivering supplies."
"Earn merit points, and you may access the martial library."
Song nodded, his resolve hardening.
I'll use every chance to grow stronger, he vowed, his defiance burning.
Rill beamed, her enthusiasm returning.
"See? You're already on your way!"
As they left the Magistrate, Song's tattoo pulsed again, stronger this time.
He glanced back at the building, a faint hum vibrating through the ground.
The winged serpent statues at the entrance seemed to shimmer, their eyes glinting with a fleeting light.
Rill didn't notice, he thought, his unease growing.
The servants' quarter felt safe, but something lurked beneath its surface, a power tied to the runes, to his tattoo.
They returned to the courtyard, the ancient stone now bathed in twilight.
Rill chattered about duties and training, but Song's attention was elsewhere.
The stone's runes glowed faintly, invisible to others but clear to him.
His tattoo burned, a rune flickering on its surface, identical to those in the palace hall.
This place isn't what it seems, he realized, his heart racing.
A shadow moved at the courtyard's edge, a figure cloaked in black, watching him.
Song's instincts screamed, his hand twitching toward a weapon he didn't have.
The figure vanished, but the message was clear—danger was near, and his new life was no sanctuary.
To be continued…