MINOR MIRACLE✨

✨ Chapter 10✨

The vermiliin hues of the afternoon sun bled into the inky embrace of twilight, painting the lattice windows of the inn a mournful indigo. Within, Shi Ying, sat upon a cushion, rigid as a jsde carving. Gone was the tranquility that had bathed the room in the morning, replaced by a suffocating stillness that irked at him like a hungry spirit. Zhi had bled into one another, each tick of the water clock echoing the hollowness in his chest. Hongyi had vanished after their heated exchange. Shi Ying tried to calm himself, focusing on his breathing, each inhale and exhale ab effort to regain control. It was foolish to worry about a mere mortal, he reminded himself. But the memory of Hongyi's hurt, vulnerable eyes flickered persistently in his mind, unsettling him further. He chastised himself for his harsh words. How could he, a man of such wisdom and strength, be so easily perturbed?

Perhaps, a simple apology would suffice. Just as he rose to seek out Hongyi, a heavy weight settled in his gut. The sun had long set, and the settlement was now shrouded in shadows, the once lively market stalls now silent and deserted. The night air carried an eerie stillness, interrupted only by the calls of a night bird. Shi Ying's mind raced with vicious possibilities. The world outside was filled with dangers, especially under the cover of night. He clenched his fists, the tension in his body a stark contrast to the serene facade he usually maintained. The thought of Hongyi Gounzi alone in the darkness, vulnerable to unseen perils, propelled him into action. He grabbed his jade bone and strode towards the door, stepping out into the cool, foreboding night. The habitat lay in hush, bathed in the ghostly glow of the moon. Shi Ying's heart pounded with a mixture of fear and determination. He would find gounzi and make things right, no matter the cost.

Hongyi trailed the child, a knot of unease tightening in his gut like a fist. Themarket bustle had receded, replaced by a labyrinth of shadowed alleys twisting through the settlement's underbelly. The air grew stagnant, heavy with the scent of rotting fish and overflowing refuse bins. The child, his earlier mirth extinguished, scurried ahead, his bare feet slapping nervously against the uneven cobblestones. They reached the edge of the settlement, where huts leaned against each other like drunken people. The child stopped before a dilapidated hut, its door hanging crookedly on a single hinge. It emitted a low groan as the child pushed it open, revealing a scene both pitiful and unsettling.

Inside, a single flickering lamp cast sickly yellow shadows that danced on the dusty floor. In the center, hunched over a worn table littered with paints and brushes, sat a frail figure. The air hung heavy with the acrid scent of old incense and something else, something metallic and sharp that made Hongyi's stomach lurch.

"Grandpa? I brought a customer!" The child called out, his voice echoing in the cramped space. The figure on the stool remained motiinless. Hongyi stepped hesitantly inside, the knot in his gut twisting further. He noticed a stray paintbrush lying on the table, its tip dipped in a crimson that seemed too vivid to be paint alone. Suddenly, a wheezing gasp ripped through the oppressive silence. The child whirled around, his eyes widening in horror.

"Grandpa!" He screamed, his voice cracking. Hongyi followed the child's gaze and felt a jolt of ice shoot through him. The old man's head rolled to one side, his bony chest stained crimson. A single, brutal stab wound marred his back, a silent proof to a vicious attack. The child scrambled towards the lifeless figure, collapsing beside the stool and burying his face in the old man's crumpled robe. Heart hammering against his ribs, Hongyi's gaze darted around the room. The silence was broken only by the child's ragged sobs and the rhythmic creak of the wind outside.

A flicker of movement on the periphery caught his eye. He whipped his head around, his heart leaping into his throat. Three figures, clad head-to-toe in black, materialized from the shadows, their faces obscured by masks. They moved with an unnatural grace, silent predators emerging from the darkness. Fear turned to a cold fury in Hongyi's gut. These weren't simple bandits – the deadly precision in their movements, the cold glint of the daggers strapped to their thighs – all spoke of trained killers. But why attack a frail old man and a child? Panic threatened to engulf him, but then a flicker of the child's tear-streaked face brought him back. He wouldn't let these masked men hurt anyone else.