CHAPTER 257: “WHICH IS WHY I’LL GIVE YOU SOMETHING.”

Adam walked the narrow trail between cliffs, arms folded behind his back. A small bird followed him, fluttering between branches. He didn’t shoo it away. The bird didn’t sing. It just... stayed close. Maybe it sensed something about him. Maybe it just liked quiet men with shadows in their eyes.

The world here was peaceful, tucked between two ranges in the northwestern spine of the Lowlands. He’d left the sect he’d created days ago, letting it grow on its own. They called him Grandmaster, begged for wisdom. He gave them a single sentence before walking away: "Don’t forget the soil beneath your feet."

He didn’t look back.

Sometimes he wondered if he was becoming too soft. He hadn’t destroyed a realm in a while. Hadn’t cracked open the sky or whispered a new law into being. The calm was beginning to feel like weight on his shoulders. Or maybe that was just the wind. Either way, he didn’t rush.

The trail led him to a river, then to a clearing, where a ruined shrine stood half-swallowed by moss. He stopped there. Closed his eyes.

He could feel the world breathe.

But something was wrong.

Far away—north, past the thickets and down the slope—he felt a flicker. It was sharp. Fragile. Not strong enough to be a cultivator, not old enough to be a sect’s pulse. Children. Two of them.

Running.

He opened his eyes and kept walking.

No step wasted. No wind stirred. He didn’t fly. He just... moved.

And somewhere down that slope, the two children kept running, not knowing death had already found them.

The girl tripped first.

She landed hard, mud splashing across her cheek. She gritted her teeth and pulled herself up. "Come on, Kai!"

Her brother followed close behind, face scraped, one sandal missing. He grabbed her hand, pulling her up without stopping. "Don’t look back."

But she did.

And saw them.

Four men. Bandits maybe. Rogue cultivators at worst. Their robes were stained, weapons half-broken, but their eyes were bright with cruelty. One of them licked his lips when he saw her stumble.

"They’re just kids!" the smallest man said with a chuckle. "Why run? We won’t bite."

"Much," added the largest, dragging a rusted saber through the dirt.

The twins kept running. The forest thinned. The cliffs curved inward, trapping them. There was nowhere left.

Kai yanked his sister to the side, ducking behind a fallen log.

The bandits spread out, laughing, no longer rushing. They knew they had time. The chase was the best part.

The girl—Mina—clutched her brother’s arm. "What do we do?"

He looked down. He had no weapon. No spiritual root awakened. He was just a boy. "I... I don’t know."

She didn’t cry. Just held tighter.

A shadow moved behind the trees. One of the men stepped into the clearing, eyes gleaming. "There you are."

Kai stepped forward. "Please. Let her go. You can take me."

Mina gasped. "No!"

The man raised his sword. "Cute."

Then he swung.

The blade never landed.

A hand caught it mid-air.

Fingers like stone. Grip like silence.

The bandit blinked, mouth opening in a confused sound that never became a word. His eyes traveled up the arm—black sleeve, silver thread lining, calm posture—to a face that didn’t belong in this world.

Adam tilted his head slightly.

The bandit tried to pull back.

His arm didn’t come with him.

He looked down.

His weapon was still there. But his body was gone from the elbow down.

The stump hit the ground with a dull thud.

The man screamed.

The others charged in. One formed a basic spell in his hand—low-grade fire. It never lit.

Adam flicked a finger.

The flame reversed. Entered the man’s throat. Smoke poured from his eyes before he collapsed.

Another swung a hammer.

Adam didn’t move.

The hammer stopped mid-air, frozen. The wielder screamed as his own weapon bent in half, then folded, crushing his ribs like paper.

The last one turned to run.

He didn’t get far.

A single thread of golden light snaked through the trees and pierced his spine. He fell soundlessly, breath gone before it reached his lips.

The clearing returned to silence.

Kai stood in front of his sister, shaking.

Adam didn’t speak.

He turned to them slowly, meeting their eyes.

Mina backed up slightly.

But Kai stepped forward. "Thank you."

Adam looked at him. The boy’s voice barely held together. But he hadn’t broken.

That was rare.

Adam knelt down, lowering himself to their height. "What are your names?"

The girl whispered, "Mina..."

The boy followed, "Kai."

Adam nodded once.

"Do you have a home?"

Kai looked down.

Mina shook her head. "Not anymore."

Adam stood, glancing at the sky.

Then looked back.

"Then follow me."

Adam Takes the Kids Under His Wings — 500 words

They didn’t question him.

They just followed.

Adam didn’t speak much. Only stopped once to pick a fruit for Mina when her legs trembled. He didn’t peel it. Just handed it to her and walked on.

By nightfall, they reached a small cave overlooking a valley. It wasn’t grand. Just dry. Quiet. Safe.

Adam lit a fire with a snap of his fingers. No sparks. Just warmth.

The twins huddled close. He gave them food from his satchel—bread, dried meat, and clean water. They ate without speaking.

Eventually, Kai broke the silence. "Why did you save us?"

Adam didn’t answer right away. He stared into the flames.

"You looked like someone I once knew," he said finally.

"Someone close to you?" Mina asked softly.

He didn’t answer.

She looked down.

Silence stretched.

Then Adam reached into his coat and pulled out two small tokens. Simple iron circles etched with runes that pulsed faintly.

He handed one to each of them.

"What’s this?" Kai asked.

"Your name, if anyone asks."

They looked confused.

"You’re my disciples now," he said.

Mina blinked. "But we don’t know how to do anything."

Adam looked at her gently. "You’ll learn."

Kai stared at the token in his palm, then at the man who’d saved them. "Why us?"

Adam met his eyes. No power in his gaze. Just presence.

"Because you’re still alive."

Mina leaned into her brother, holding the token tightly.

Adam stood, walked to the edge of the cave, and looked out into the dark valley.

No words.

Just wind.

The fire cracked behind him.

And somewhere deep in the night, a bird finally sang.

The Next Day

The sun hadn’t risen yet.

The sky was still the color of ash, faint light just beginning to press against the horizon. A thin mist floated over the valley like it didn’t know where to settle.

Adam stood at the mouth of the cave, arms crossed. He hadn’t slept. He didn’t need to. The wind was still. The world was quiet. He liked mornings like this. Before people spoke. Before the weight of the day reminded you who you were pretending to be.

Behind him, the fire had died down. Just embers now.

He waited a moment longer, then turned and stepped inside.

The twins were curled together under a rough blanket he’d left out for them. Mina’s hair was stuck to her cheek. Kai’s arm was slung protectively around her like he hadn’t stopped running in his sleep.

Adam walked over, crouched down, and tapped the rock near them.

Not loud.

Just enough.

Kai stirred first, blinking, then sitting up quickly like he expected to still be chased.

"It’s morning," Adam said.

Mina yawned and sat up next to her brother, rubbing her eyes.

"Come," Adam said, already standing.

They followed.

He led them to a ridge not far from the cave. It looked out over the valley—the trees below moving slowly, like they were breathing.

They sat.

Adam didn’t speak right away.

He just let them look.

After a while, Kai asked, "Where are we going today?"

Adam didn’t answer. Instead, he sat cross-legged and reached into his coat, pulling out a small smooth stone. He turned it between his fingers, then looked out at the valley.

"I’ll tell you a story," he said.

The twins exchanged glances, then sat down too.

Adam began.

"There was a boy once. Born during a storm. No family. No name. They say the wind cut the first breath out of his lungs, so he grew up without ever crying."

He looked down at the stone.

"He was small. Always behind. In training, in thought, in strength. The others called him background. Said he’d be gone before the first real battle ever came."

Mina leaned forward slightly.

"One day," Adam continued, "they took him to a mountain. Not to train. Just to leave him there. They thought it was mercy. Said it’d be better for him to disappear than to be broken."

"What happened?" Kai asked.

Adam tilted his head slightly.

"The mountain didn’t like that."

The twins frowned.

"He fell through a crack. Dropped into a place that wasn’t on any map. A space that had been forgotten. And down there, he didn’t find a treasure. Or a sword. Or some grand cultivation secret."

He paused.

"He found silence."

They were listening now.

"He stayed there for years. Talking to no one. Eating moss. Drinking cold. Listening to the rocks settle. His thoughts grew louder than the world ever had."

Adam looked up at the sky.

"And when he climbed back out, he didn’t shout. He didn’t come back to fight anyone. He walked through the village. Past those who mocked him. Past the sects. Past the clans. He walked straight to the center of the world and cracked the sky with a whisper."

The wind moved, slow and low.

"Who was he?" Mina asked, voice soft.

Adam smiled faintly.

"No one."

He stood.

"But the world remembers him now."

They were quiet.

Then Kai said, "You said we’re your disciples."

"I did."

"But we’re not strong," Mina added. "We’re not even cultivators."

Adam nodded. "That’s true."

He stepped closer.

"Which is why I’ll give you something."