Hope didn’t have anything to prepare. He had nobody and nothing that tied him down to the Inner Region. The events of the past few days had unraveled so quickly, leaving him with little time to process what had happened. Yet, none of that mattered now. Not tonight.

  It was dead in the night, the world around him shrouded in an eerie stillness. The only sounds were the occasional rustling of the wind and the distant call of nocturnal creatures. Hope decided to have a meal, it’s been a while since he last ate something and he missed the taste of food.

  He walked down the dimly lit street as the silence of the night wrapped around him. His mind wandered, but his steps were guided by a need that had become all too familiar. Food.

  After a couple of minutes of walking, he spotted a tavern nestled between two buildings, its sign swinging in the wind. The flickering lantern light spilling out of the windows seemed to offer a glimpse of warmth. Hope entered without hesitation. The door creaked as it opened, and the dim light inside made him squint for a moment.

  As soon as he stepped in, the room fell silent.

  The waiter, a thin man with a nervous expression, froze when he saw Hope. His eyes widened in alarm as he took in the blood-soaked figure that had entered. Hope didn’t even notice the blood anymore—it had dried long ago, staining his cloak and hands. He hadn’t bothered to clean himself. It wasn’t important. Not now, not in this moment.

  The waiter recoiled, his face a mask of fear, but he quickly composed himself. "Uh… Welcome" he stammered, his voice shaking. "Would you… would you like a table, sir?"

  Hope, still not noticing the attention he had drawn, simply nodded. “Yes. A seat. I’m hungry.”

  The waiter grit his teeth and nodded, clearly nervous but unable to turn Hope away. Without another word, he led Hope to a table in the back corner of the tavern. The man’s hands shook as he handed Hope a menu, almost too afraid to meet his gaze. "The food will be served in ten minutes" he muttered, quickly backing away.

  As Hope sat down, he looked around the tavern. The atmosphere was heavy with unease. People whispered among themselves, glancing at him as if they’d seen a ghost. Their eyes darted from the bloodied figure to each other, their voices low but filled with fear and curiosity. Some even pointed at him, their eyes wide with awe or dread.

  Hope didn’t care.

  The last time he probably cared about what others thought of him was when his mother was still alive. Back when he was just six years old, and his only desire was to make her proud. Back when he wanted to fit in, to be accepted. He had tried so hard back then, shaping his actions based on how others saw him. But that part of him had died when she left.

  Now, all that was left was a man who no longer cared for the whispers, the judgment, or the scrutiny of others. People could talk, they could point, they could stare—it didn’t matter. He had long since given up on seeking approval from anyone but himself.

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  The food arrived soon after, placed before him with an unspoken hesitation. The waiter, though clearly afraid, did his job and left as quickly as he could. Hope didn’t even glance at the plate—he simply dug in, eating with a quiet hunger that felt almost mechanical. His senses were dulled, but the act of eating, the simple taste of something familiar, grounded him for a moment.

  As he finished the last bite, Hope placed the chopsticks down and wiped his mouth with his arm. He stood up, leaving enough money on the table to pay for the meal, though it wasn’t much. The tavern was small, and the food was cheap. But it had been enough to satisfy his cravings, and that was all that mattered.

  Just as he was about to walk out, a voice called out to him from behind.

  "Hey!"

  Hope turned around, his expression cold and unreadable. The man who had called out to him was burly, dressed in cheap clothes that looked like they hadn’t been washed in days. His face was hard, his eyes filled with the gleam of someone who thought they could bully their way through life.

  The man took a step forward, his heavy boots thudding against the wooden floor. He smiled, but it was a wicked, predatory grin that only served to deepen the tension in the room.

  "You need to pay me if you want to leave" the man said, his voice low and rough.

  Hope raised an eyebrow. His expression didn’t change—he simply stared at the man, unblinking, as if waiting for an explanation.

  The man, seeing the lack of reaction, smirked. He thought Hope was too scared to speak, too intimidated by his imposing presence. “That’s right” he said, stepping closer. “You didn’t pay for your food. You think you can just walk out without—”

  Hope cut him off.

  "Okay, follow me. I don’t have money on me right now." His voice was calm, almost disinterested.

  The man blinked in confusion for a moment, then grinned even wider. He thought he had struck gold. "Heh, smart guy" he muttered, clearly thinking this was an easy win. “I’ll follow you.”

  Hope turned and walked towards the door, the man following close behind, eager for whatever payment he would demand. Neither of them said a word as they stepped outside into the night.

  The street was quiet, but the night air had a bite to it, sending a chill through the burly man’s spine. Hope walked ahead without looking back, his pace unhurried. The man felt the sense of victory growing within him as they moved further from the tavern. He could already imagine the coin he’d collect from this unfortunate soul.

  But as Hope took another step forward, something in the air seemed to change. The energy around him seemed to vibrate, subtle but distinct. Hope's eyes flashed with an eerie purple glow.

  Before the man could even register what was happening, he vanished. In an instant, he was gone, leaving behind only the faintest trace of his presence.

  Hope didn’t even look back.

  He turned and walked back to the inn. The night air felt colder now, but he didn’t care. His body ached from the day’s events, and he needed to wash away the blood, the dirt, the grime of the past.

  Once inside, he locked the door behind him and undressed. The blood clung to his skin like a second layer, but it was nothing a hot bath couldn’t solve. Hope immersed himself in the water, the warmth seeping into his tired muscles. He washed away the remnants of his past, at least for now.

  When he finished, he dressed in fresh clothes, the fabric clean and smooth against his skin. His mind felt clearer now, but only slightly. The thoughts that plagued him still lingered, waiting for the next moment to resurface.

  He walked to the center of the room, sitting cross-legged on the floor. His breathing slowed as he calmed himself. With a deep exhale, he began to cultivate.

  Hours passed in silence.

  Three hours later, Hope’s eyes snapped open.

  He stood, his movements fluid, and headed out of the inn, walking toward the gathering point just outside the building where they had held the trials earlier.

  It was time.

  Milestones for extra chapters:

  Followers

  - 1

  - 10

  - 20

  - 50

  - 100

  - 150

  I will be adding more milestones as we proceed and as i think of them. Enjoy!