Ren walked through the narrow streets of his neighborhood, hands buried inside his worn jacket pockets. The slum district sat far below the polished skyline of Whisperfall City. Here, walls peeled. Drainage water crawled lazily along broken pavement. Rusted balconies sagged like tired shoulders.
Ren kept his head lowered and walked.
Every step felt heavier the closer he got to the Dao Academy.
Turning a corner—
He stopped.
A group of boys blocked the path ahead.
They were his age.
Cleaner clothes. Brighter expressions.
At the center stood Hu Ban.
Fifteen.
Broad-shouldered.
Already taller than most adults.
His hair was slicked back deliberately, his posture relaxed with the confidence of someone who had already tasted power.
The moment his eyes landed on Ren, his lips curved.
"Well, well."
Hu Ban stepped forward slowly.
"Isn't that our neighborhood Null?"
The boys around him snickered.
Ren didn't respond.
He tried to step around them.
Hu Ban moved sideways, blocking him again.
"Where are you going?" Hu Ban tilted his head mockingly. "Don't tell me… the Dao Academy?"
The laughter came quicker this time.
Ren clenched his jaw but said nothing.
Hu Ban circled him slowly, examining him like livestock.
"Last assessment, right?" he continued. "Why bother? You're a Null no matter how many times they test you."
He leaned closer.
"Look at you. Short. Scrawny. You think someone like you can become an Eternal?"
Another boy chimed in, grinning.
"He'd do better in a pig farm. At least pigs eat a lot too."
More laughter.
Louder.
Pedestrians slowed slightly—then looked away.
No one intervened.
Another boy stepped forward eagerly.
"Unlike Hu Ban here," he said proudly, slapping Hu Ban's shoulder. "He's not going for testing."
Ren's eyes lifted slightly.
"He's already accepted into Dao Academy."
The words landed like a physical blow.
"Dao of Wind," the boy continued. "Lecturers praised him personally. Said he has Manager-level potential."
Hu Ban didn't deny it.
He enjoyed it.
Ren felt the heavens' cruel joke twist violently in his chest—another layer of unfair fate pressing down.
Wind Dao.
Already accepted to Dao Academy.
Praised as a Manager Level talent.
The person who shoved smaller kids for fun.
Who kicked stray dogs.
Who laughed when others cried.
The world rewarded him.
Ren felt heat behind his eyes.
How is this fair?
Power goes to the cruel.
Opportunity goes to the bullies.
And those who are kind and endure quietly are being stepped on. Being laughed at.
He wasn't a saint.
But he had never harmed anyone.
He helped elderly neighbors carry groceries.
He fixed broken wiring for free.
He shared what little he had.
Yet here he was.
Nothing.
He stepped to the side again.
"I'm going," Ren said quietly.
Hu Ban's smile vanished.
"Where do you think you're going?"
The air shifted.
A faint, white aura bloomed around Hu Ban—the signature of the Wind Dao. It was light in constant motion, a living thing with a dancer's fluidity.
The temperature seemed to drop as the air gathered unnaturally around him. Dust lifted from the ground. Plastic wrappers trembled.
Hu Ban extended both arms forward.
Palms open.
"You wanted to go to the Dao Academy?"
"Let me send you off properly."
The wind burst forth.
A compressed gust exploded outward like an invisible hammer.
Ren didn't even have time to prepare.
The force caved into his chest, driving the air from his lungs in a single, crushing blow. His feet left the ground. The world spun into a blur as he was hurled backward, like a ragdoll snapped on an unseen line.
And—
Splash!
He landed hard in a roadside puddle, shallow and vile, with a muddy splash. Oil and grit flooded his mouth, the taste of the street filling his senses as he lay stunned in the fouled water.
Cold sludge soaked through his clothes instantly.
Filth coated his hair.
The taste of iron filled his mouth.
For a second, he couldn't breathe.
Laughter erupted.
Wild.
Cruel.
"Look at him!"
"He doesn't need a pig farm — he already looks like one!"
Hu Ban lowered his arms slowly, the white aura fading.
He smirked.
Satisfied.
Ren lay there for a few seconds.
The sky above looked distant.
Blurry.
Something inside him moved.
Not anger alone.
Not humiliation alone.
Something darker.
His stomach burned.
Harder than before.
The mud beneath his palms vibrated faintly—
As if reacting to him.
Then it stopped.
Ren pushed himself up slowly.
Oil dripped from his sleeves.
His black hair clung to his forehead.
He looked smaller standing there.
But his eyes—
His eyes were no longer dull.
They were cold.
Hu Ban noticed.
For half a heartbeat—
He felt something.
A flicker.
An instinctive chill.
Then it vanished.
Ren said nothing.
He didn't wipe the mud away.
Didn't argue.
Didn't curse.
He simply walked forward.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Passing them.
Hu Ban scoffed loudly behind him.
"No backbone."
"Nulls should know their place."
More laughter followed him down the street.
Ren kept walking.
---
Ren turned out of the alley, clothes soaked in mud and oil, shoes squelching with every step.
He kept walking.
Head down.
Jaw tight.
He didn't want anyone to see him like this.
"Ren?"
The voice stopped him mid-step.
He froze.
Slowly, he looked up.
A woman stood a few meters away, carrying a reusable grocery bag in one hand. Vegetables peeked out from the top—leafy greens, cheap tofu, discounted rice.
Aunt Mimi.
She was in her forties.
But life had drawn extra years across her face. Fine lines around her eyes. Hands rough from part-time cleaning jobs. Shoulders slightly bent—not from age, but from carrying too much for too long.
When she saw him properly—
Her eyes widened.
"Ren! What happened to you?"
She rushed forward, setting the grocery bag down immediately.
Her fingers hovered near his shoulder, afraid to hurt him.
"Why are you covered in dirt? Are you injured? Did someone—"
"It's nothing," Ren cut in quickly.
He forced a small smile.
"Just those boys again. They were bored and played with me a bit."
The word played sounded wrong even to him.
Aunt Mimi's expression changed instantly.
Her gentle eyes hardened.
"Played?" Her voice trembled with anger. "Is that what they call this now?"
Her hands clenched into fists.
"How dare they treat you like this? I'll go speak to their parents. No— I'll go to the district office. Someone needs to teach them manners!"
Ren shook his head immediately.
"It's fine."
His tone was calm but tired.
"Don't bother, Aunt Mimi. It's not worth it. They'll just make it worse."
She looked at him for a long moment.
Really looked at him.
The mud. The wet hair. The exhaustion in his eyes.
Her throat tightened.
Her chest ached with a familiar, bone-deep sorrow.
And something inside her—the fierce, protective part that had always promised to keep him safe—broke in the gentlest, most devastating way.
"…Ren," she said softly, "why don't you go home and change first?"
He hesitated.
"I can't. I'm already late."
She blinked.
"Late?"
"The Academy," he said. "Today is the final assessment."
The words hung between them.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then—
"Oh."
Her anger faded.
Hope replaced it.
Her tired face brightened just slightly.
"That's today…"
She straightened unconsciously, as if preparing to receive good news in advance.
"I'm sure you'll do well," she said firmly. "You've always been strong. Stronger than you think."
Ren felt something tighten painfully in his chest.
He already knew.
There would be no miracle.
No awakening.
Just another 'Null' result.
Another official confirmation that he was nothing.
But he couldn't say that.
Not to her.
"…Hope so," he replied quietly.
Aunt Mimi smiled.
Then she noticed the mud again.
"Wait," she said.
She dug into her bag and pulled out a small folded towel—old, but clean.
She walked to a nearby public faucet, twisted it open, and soaked the cloth.
When she returned, she didn't hesitate.
She stood on her toes slightly and began wiping his face.
Gently.
Carefully.
Like he was still a child.
"You always come home like this," she muttered softly. "Even when you pretend you're fine."
Ren stood still.
Didn't move.
Didn't speak.
She wiped the mud from his cheeks, from the corner of his lips, from his jaw.
Then his hands.
Then his arms.
Her fingers were rough, but her touch was careful.
The way a mother cleans a wound she wishes she could take instead.
Ren stared at her.
At the strands of gray hair she didn't bother dyeing.
At the faint dark circles under her eyes.
At the way she hummed softly while cleaning him, pretending everything was normal.
His vision blurred.
His throat tightened.
A single tear slipped down his cheek before he could stop it.
Aunt Mimi paused.
She looked up.
"Silly boy," she said gently. "Why are you crying?"
Ren quickly turned his head.
"It's nothing."
But his voice cracked.
She smiled softly.
And wiped the tear away with her thumb.
"It's okay," she whispered. "Everything will be okay."
She stepped back and examined him.
"There," she said brightly. "Clean again. Handsome again."
The word handsome was said with complete sincerity.
As if she truly believed he was something the world simply hadn't recognized yet.
Ren felt his heart ache so violently he thought it might split open.
If he became an Eternal—
He would buy her a house.
A real one.
With sunlight.
With a kitchen that didn't leak when it rained.
He would make sure she never had to work another day.
But right now—
He couldn't even protect himself.
"Go," Aunt Mimi said gently, picking up her grocery bag again. "Do your best."
She gave him a small nod.
"And when you come back… I'll cook something special."
Her smile widened.
"You must be hungry again."
Ren almost laughed at that.
Almost.
He nodded instead.
"You take care too," he said quietly.
She waved him off like he worried too much.
Ren turned and began walking toward the Academy.
He didn't look back immediately.
Because he knew—
If he did—
He might not be able to hold himself together.
After several steps, he glanced over his shoulder.
Aunt Mimi was still standing there.
Watching him.
Smiling.
Only after he turned the corner did her shoulders slump slightly.
And only when she thought no one was looking—
Did she wipe her own eyes.
To be continued.