185 Father & Son

My final memory before death was more sensation than substance. My body unraveled into motes of golden light as I chased the Sun across the sky. It was a foolish endeavor, but I was curious. In the Hollowed World, celestial bodies were not suspended above but entwined with the land itself, part of a cosmological puzzle that defied logic.

I wanted to see the Sun up close, even if it meant burning for it.

That curiosity killed me. Or perhaps it saved me.

Now I lie on my back beneath a different sky, blades of grass brushing my neck, the scent of wet earth anchoring me. My last moments lingered only as fragments. I must have traveled a great distance in the process. This place felt unfamiliar. The sky was no mere dome but vast and unfathomable, holding secrets I wasn’t yet strong enough to reach.

Was this the center of the Hollowed World? Or somewhere else entirely? If it were the heart, where were the Sun and Moon anchored? Did this world revolve around a different axis of power? I didn’t know, but I would, eventually. The problem was time. There was too much to do, and too little time.

Being mortal hurt.

Because of my mortality, I could no longer afford distractions.

However, I was unsatisfied with my progress.

Ten years of effort had only brought me to the Third Star of the Martial Tempering Realm. I couldn’t fly, break mountains, or intimidate true enemies. Still, I had regained something valuable, my Divine Sense. It was a shadow of what it once was. Before, it spanned entire cities, peeling back secrets with ease. Now, it barely extended past my neck, more instinct than skill. Even so, it let me sense the world’s qi. Or rather, its absence. The spiritual energy here was pitifully thin. Without my memories and techniques, I would have been little more than a brute.

“Brother, Dad is looking for you.”

I turned to see Da Ji jogging up the hill, breathing lightly, her long hair tied in a loose ponytail. We were both fourteen now. I had grown tall and wiry; she had grown into a quiet beauty, her sharp eyes always watchful. The gloom that lingered in her expression never fully faded, but her steps carried a steady liveliness.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, brushing grass from my shirt as I stood.

“There are soldiers in the village. Armed. They’re going house to house. Dad’s speaking with them now.”

That sobered me. Armed men in a rural village meant one of three things: bandits, tax collectors, or conscription officers. Judging by her calm state, it wasn’t bandits.

We ran together. My pace was controlled, hers was quick and urgent. Our home, once a simple hut, had grown into something sturdier over the years. But the air around it felt heavy and tense. Soldiers stood in neat rows, cuirasses gleaming in the afternoon sun, halberds in hand and curved swords at their sides. The Empire’s standard was stitched into their tabards.

At their center stood a man in ornate armor, perhaps in his mid-thirties. His posture was rigid, commanding, as though he belonged in a palace rather than this village.

“I am Jin Chenglei,” he declared with authority. “Commander of the Steel Squadron, under direct mandate of the Emperor.”

He unfurled a scroll and read aloud. The decree was simple and merciless: every household must provide a man for the coming war.

Da Ji leaned close. “He’s told every house the same. Some sent grandfathers. Others, their sons.”

So it was conscription.

Father stepped out, dressed in his old hunting tunic. His face was calm, but his eyes carried a quiet weariness. He bowed, fist against palm. “I, Da Jin, will serve the Empire. My life is the Emperor’s blade.”

He was about to continue with some speech about duty and honor, but I cut him off.

“No!”

My voice thundered with inner strength. Lion’s Roar rippled through the air like a struck gong, sending birds scattering and making several soldiers flinch.

All eyes turned to me.

It filled me with regret, but it seemed the time to leave the comfort of my family had come. It was never a play-pretend for me, so the decision had come rather easily.

“I, Da Wei, son of Da Jin, humbly beseech the commander,” I declared, stepping forward with measured dignity. My back remained straight as a spear, my gaze steady upon the ground before Commander Jin Chenglei’s feet, as propriety demanded. “My honored father has already offered his blood and vigor to this village and the Empire without murmur. His years weigh heavily upon him now. Allow this unworthy son to take his place beneath the banner. Let me bear arms in service to His Majesty, the Sun, and preserve the honor of the Da clan.”

A heavy silence fell, broken only by the distant lowing of oxen.

“Silence!” My father’s voice thundered like a war drum. He turned sharply and bowed low to the commander, his once-powerful frame rigid with shame and exhaustion. “Forgive this foolish boy, Commander. He speaks without understanding. He is but fourteen summers old, an unfilial child whose tongue outruns his wisdom.”

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Heat surged through my chest. The words escaped before I could chain them.

“I am worth ten of my father in battle!”

The slap of my own insolence echoed louder than any blow. My mother appeared like a gathering storm, her robes whispering fiercely as she seized toward my ear. I shifted aside with grace, narrowly evading her grasp. She hissed a curse under her breath, eyes blazing with the righteous fury only a mother could summon.

“You dare speak so shamelessly before your elders? Have you no shame, you wretched boy?!”

I took no pride in this. I wasn’t trying to be a hero. I loved my family. This life wasn’t grand, but it was mine, fragile and precious in a way I understood better than most. I had already lived once before, already lost everything once. I knew what it meant to watch bonds break and lives slip away. And I knew what I was about to do would hurt them.

No good son should die before his parents. That was the natural order, the unspoken rule of filial piety. A child was meant to outlive, to carry on, to honor those who raised him, and not leave them behind in grief. But I was not like other sons. I had already lived a life beyond this one. If fate demanded a sacrifice, then it should be me.

Even so, I had no intention of dying. Going to the battlefield did not mean surrendering my life. A truly filial child did not throw himself away recklessly. Instead, a filial child would endure, survive, and return. I would fight, yes, but I would come back. I would not leave them behind.

My chances of survival were many leagues above Father. If he died on some distant battlefield, who would care for Mother? For Da Ji?

A sharp twang split the air.

My Divine Sense flared, screaming a warning. I twisted and dove aside as an arrow struck the ground where my leg had been.

The fletching was familiar.

“What the hell—?” I hissed, scrambling up as I glared at the source of the arrow.

Father stood there, bow in hand, lowering it.

He had shot at me.

“Excuse me, Commander,” he said calmly, stepping past Jin Chenglei, who stared at the arrow in stunned silence. “This brat needs discipline.”

Father approached me with a stern look on his face. This wasn’t the man who laughed and carried us on his shoulders. He stood like a cliff, eyes cold and unyielding. “So you think you can decide for this family?” he said. “Do you hear yourself, Wei?”

I glanced at the arrow still going back and forth from inertia.

Was he really willing to injure me?

A punctured leg would make me less desirable as a soldier, after all.

“I’ve always known you were smart,” said Father, his voice tightening, anger bleeding through the restraint. “Too smart for your own good. But this?” He let out a harsh breath, shaking his head. “This is madness, Wei. Do you even hear yourself? Throwing your life away like it means nothing?” His jaw clenched, regret flickering across his face. “After everything we’ve done for you… after everything I’ve tried to teach you… Is this what you’ve learned? To spit on it all and rush toward death?”

I straightened and met his gaze. “Father, some things can’t be explained. Sometimes, you act not because you understand, but because you believe it’s right.”

He said nothing.

“If we both believe we’re right, then one of us must be wrong.”

I already knew this would hurt.

But I've already decided.

“Forgive me,” I said quietly. “I won’t back down.”

Commander Jin Chenglei pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered under his breath, just loud enough for those nearest to hear, “By the Emperor’s grace… I came to conscript soldiers, not preside over a family dispute.” He exhaled sharply, glancing between father and son with growing irritation. “Am I invisible to these people?”

So began the duel between father and son.

A man twice my size, hardened by years of labor and mountain storms… against a boy who still smelled of grass and sweat. Under normal circumstances, it should have ended quickly. It would've been a harsh lesson for a child too eager to grow up. But that was not the case.

We circled each other on the packed dirt, surrounded by silent soldiers. No blades. No qi. Just fists, feet, and stubborn hearts. The first minutes blurred into dodges, blocked strikes, and ragged breaths. I hated it. I hated that it had come to this.

I should have done better.

My right hand throbbed, knuckles split and swelling. My fingers trembled as I gripped Father’s collar. He lay between my legs, blood crusted above his brow, bruises blooming across his cheek. His breath came rough but steady. And even then, his arm twitched, trying to strike again.

“Just stay down,” I whispered.

I pinned his arm and drove my fist into his jaw. His body slackened. The fire in his eyes flickered out as he finally lost consciousness.

It took everything not to cry.

Father wasn’t a martial artist. He was strong, yes. But he had neither my experience nor cultivation.

Still, he had nearly beaten me.

I collapsed onto my back, gasping, staring at the clouds. Nearby, Mother sobbed, her shoulders shaking as Da Ji held her. My sister’s eyes were wide with shock. I must have looked like a monster to everyone watching. No normal fourteen-year-old would've done something that I just did.

So this was it. The end of an ordinary life.

Jin Chenglei’s voice broke the silence. “This duel has ended.” He paused, his gaze sweeping over the gathered villagers before settling on me. “Da Wei of the Da family, come with me.”

His tone softened slightly, though it still carried the weight of command. “You may wonder why I allowed this… spectacle to continue. It was not out of indifference.”

He folded his arms behind his back. “Willow Village has long been known to produce capable warriors, men and women who have served His Majesty with distinction. I have seen it myself. Because of that, I hold certain expectations for those who come from here.”

His eyes lingered on me, sharp and assessing. “Strength is not merely measured in skill, but in resolve. What I witnessed today… was worth seeing through.”

I sat up slowly, every muscle aching. Part of me cursed him for not intervening, but this was never his to settle. I turned away from Father, Mother, and Da Ji. I took a step forward. Suddenly, arms wrapped around my waist.

“Come home, big bro,” Da Ji whispered.

“You took your father’s place,” said Mother, her voice trembling. “That doesn’t mean you have to die in his place. Come home. Alive.”

I broke.

I buried my face in her shoulder, breath shaking. “Yes, Mom.”

I hated this body and the tears coming out of my eyes. Probably the fault of my yet-to-be-developed brain. I had faced death before, but now I was just a boy trying to do what was right. Strong arms pulled us together out of nowhere, lifting us slightly from the ground.

“You heard your mother,” Father said hoarsely. “Come back.”

He was awake.

We collapsed into a heap, stunned. Around us, the soldiers watched in silence, uncertain.

Father’s eyes closed again, this time in rest. He began to snore softly, as if nothing had happened. Mother cradled his head. Da Ji wiped her eyes.

Jin Chenglei approached and extended a gloved hand.

“Let’s go,” he said. “There’s a war to fight.”

I looked at his hand, then took it with my bruised fingers.

And so, my story continued.