Chapter 7: Broken Mercy
The city gates loomed ahead, half-open beneath the early sun. Merchants queued with carts and bundles, guards checking them with bored expressions. The assassin joined the line, posture relaxed, presence muted, just another traveler leaving before the heat of day.
His wounds throbbed beneath his clothes, aggravated by the night's fighting. Blood had dried stiff against his skin. He ignored it. Pain was familiar. Mercy was not.
As he passed through the gate, he felt it.
A thread.
Thin. Almost careless.
Someone was following him.
Not a hunter this time. No killing intent. No discipline.
He walked on for another hundred steps, then turned down a narrow dirt path leading toward low hills dotted with scrub and stone. The city noise faded behind him, replaced by wind and insects.
The thread followed.
He stopped beside a cluster of rocks and waited.
Footsteps hesitated, then continued.
A figure emerged from behind a tree.
The inn girl.
She looked exhausted, hair tied back poorly, a small bundle clutched to her chest. Dust coated her shoes. Fear sat plainly on her face, but her eyes held stubborn resolve.
"You shouldn't have followed me," he said.
She startled. "I—I didn't know where else to go."
He studied her carefully. No weapon. No hidden aura. Just a frightened girl pushed by circumstances beyond her strength.
"The city isn't safe," she said quickly. "Men came asking questions. About you. About anyone injured."
He exhaled slowly.
"I warned you."
"I know," she said, voice shaking. "That's why I left."
Silence stretched between them, broken only by wind brushing the grass.
"Go back," he said finally. "Find another city."
"They'll ask again," she replied. "And again. I don't have answers."
He turned away. "Then forget me."
She took a step forward. "I can't."
He stopped.
Something in her tone caught him off guard. Not desperation. Not pleading.
Guilt.
"Why?" he asked.
She lowered her gaze. "Because I told them you were here."
The words landed softly.
He turned slowly.
Her shoulders trembled. "They scared me. They said you were dangerous. That people would die if I helped you. I didn't know what to do."
His hand drifted toward his dagger.
Not consciously.
Reflex.
The system stirred faintly.
[Emotional instability detected.]
He ignored it.
"They would have found me anyway," he said. "Your fear just saved them time."
Tears welled in her eyes. "I'm sorry."
She bowed deeply, forehead nearly touching the ground. "If you need to kill me, do it. I won't run."
The wind carried the scent of dust and grass between them.
He stared at her bowed form.
The organization had used fear like this countless times. Broken people making broken choices. He had been one of them once.
He remembered his mother's hands shaking as she signed him away.
He closed his eyes.
"Stand up," he said.
She did so slowly, disbelief flickering across her face.
"Leave," he continued. "Now. Don't look back. If they follow you again, tell them nothing. If they threaten you—run."
She nodded repeatedly. "Thank you."
She turned and fled down the path, her steps uneven but desperate.
He watched until she disappeared over a rise.
Then he sat heavily on a rock.
His chest felt tight.
"Mercy," he muttered.
[System query: Action outcome uncertain.]
"Not everything is a calculation," he replied.
[Disagreement noted.]
He snorted softly.
After resting briefly, he resumed walking, heading toward the hills. Civilization thinned quickly here. Fewer travelers. Fewer witnesses. Safer.
By midday, the ground grew rocky, dotted with cave mouths and broken stone. He chose one tucked between boulders and entered, blocking the entrance partially with loose debris.
Inside, the air was cool and dry.
He sat and began cultivating.
Qi flowed more smoothly now, responding faster to intent. The pain remained, but it was familiar, manageable. He guided the energy carefully, circulating it through his channels, reinforcing them a fraction at a time.
Minutes passed.
Then pain spiked sharply.
His breathing faltered.
The warmth inside him twisted violently, surging without control. His wounds burned as if reopened from within.
He gasped, clutching his chest.
[Warning: Qi deviation imminent.]
"What?" he hissed.
Images flooded his mind unbidden. The inn girl's bowed form. The bodies in the alley. His mother's face, pale and tired.
Regret.
Doubt.
Mercy.
The qi reacted violently to the emotions, tearing through his channels like wild fire. Blood spilled from the corner of his mouth.
"Stabilize," he growled.
[Recommendation: Emotional severance.]
"No."
He forced his breathing steady, drawing the qi inward, compressing it despite the pain. His body shook violently. Veins stood out along his neck and arms.
He screamed.
The sound echoed through the cave, raw and unrestrained.
Then, abruptly, the qi settled.
Not calm.
Focused.
Denser than before.
[Qi compression achieved.]
[Warning: Path divergence detected.]
He slumped forward, panting, sweat soaking his clothes.
"Explain," he demanded weakly.
[Host's cultivation influenced by unresolved emotional variables.]
[Result: Unstable but accelerated growth.]
He laughed hoarsely. "So mercy weakens me, but regret sharpens the blade?"
[Assessment: Accurate.]
He wiped blood from his mouth and leaned back against the stone.
This path was cruel.
But it was his.
As evening fell, he sensed movement outside the cave.
This time, it was not subtle.
Heavy footsteps. Poor concealment. Too confident.
Bandits.
He rose slowly, pain flaring, eyes cold.
Three men entered the clearing outside, laughing loudly, weapons slung carelessly. They froze when they saw him emerge from the cave's shadow.
"Well, look at this," one sneered. "Easy money."
The assassin did not reply.
He moved.
The fight was brief.
One man died with a dagger through his throat. Another lost his head to a borrowed blade. The third tried to beg.
The assassin hesitated for half a heartbeat.
Then killed him.
Silence returned.
Blood soaked into the rocky ground.
He stood among the corpses, chest rising and falling, qi pulsing steadily inside him.
No deviation.
No backlash.
He understood then.
Mercy invited weakness.
Resolve carved strength.
He wiped his blade clean and looked toward the horizon, where mountains rose faintly against the dying light.
Somewhere beyond them lay sects, cultivators, and enemies strong enough to kill him properly.
He welcomed that thought.
Because next time—
He would not hesitate.