Saigon at night was never truly quiet. Motorcycles hummed along the streets, neon signs flickered against the rain-soaked sidewalks, and from the alleyways came the faint echoes of arguments, laughter, and sometimes… things people pretended not to hear.
Under the pale streetlamp, Lâm Dạ Minh lay unconscious on the ground.
A few stones rolled away from his body. Voices faded as footsteps scattered. The bullies who had cornered him ran the moment they realized he wasn't moving.
For a while, Dạ Minh didn't breathe.
Then—a faint tremor ran through his chest.
A whisper seeped into the quiet night.
"Not yet."
When Dạ Minh opened his eyes again, the ceiling of Bạch Mai Hospital hovered above him. His head felt heavy, as if stuffed with cotton. Pain throbbed behind his eyes.
"What… happened?"
Images flickered.
A group of boys.Shouting.A blow to the head.
Then—something else.A battlefield.Steel.A man standing alone against countless enemies.
Two visions overlapped.Two lives tangled together.
Before he could understand anything, the door burst open.
"Minh! Thank goodness!" his mother rushed in, tears forming. "They said you fainted in the alley! Why didn't you call me?!"
"I'm fine, Mom… just slipped."
The lie tasted bitter. He didn't know how to explain what he truly saw.
When she stepped out to speak with the doctor, the room suddenly grew cold.
A shadow stood at the foot of his bed.
Tall. Straight-backed. Eyes carrying the weight of countless battles.
Dạ Minh froze. "Who… are you?"
The figure's voice was low, steady, ancient.
"The one who died yesterday."
The man's presence felt real, though his body was faint like drifting smoke.
"I am Dương Thiên Phú," he said. "Former commander. I fell in battle. And yet… I opened my eyes in your body."
Dạ Minh swallowed hard. "That means…?"
"Your injury opened the gate between your consciousness and mine. Two souls in one vessel. Your body is weak, but your spirit…" The ghost observed him quietly. "Your spirit holds something unexpected."
A whisper curled behind Dạ Minh's mind again, low and ancient.
"Awaken…"
His breath caught. "What was that?"
"That," Phú replied, "is something even I cannot name."
When Dạ Minh walked back into their small apartment above the pho shop, he felt as if the world had shifted slightly off-center.
The narrow stairway.The faint smell of broth.Cracked paint on the walls.
Everything was familiar—but he was not.
The ghost followed him silently.
"You live in a humble place," Phú said.
"It's all we have."
"That is not a weakness."
Dạ Minh turned, surprised at the gentleness in the ghost's tone.
But the softness faded quickly.
"Listen, boy. This city hides more than you think. At night, there are places where strength decides life or death. Martial clans walk unseen among ordinary people. Your attackers—those boys—were nothing. The real dangers do not show themselves so easily."
Dạ Minh frowned. "What do you want from me?"
"To survive," the ghost said. "And perhaps… to finish what I could not."
Midnight came.
Dạ Minh lay awake, unable to sleep. Each time he closed his eyes, two memories clashed—his own and the soldier's.
Then suddenly, someone spoke beside him.
"Awake?"
Dạ Minh nearly fell off the bed. "Can you NOT do that?!"
Phú ignored the complaint. "There are things you must learn."
"At two in the morning?"
"Yes. The martial world does not follow school hours."
Dạ Minh groaned.
The ghost continued calmly.
"In this city, hidden sects and ancient techniques have not vanished. They simply changed their clothing. What once belonged to mountains and rivers now hides in nightclubs, corporate towers, and alleys people avoid after dark."
Dạ Minh listened despite himself.
"Your injury did more than bring me here," Phú said. "It stirred something in your meridians. A seed. A spark. A beginning."
Dạ Minh felt that faint pulse again—warm, unfamiliar, almost alive.
"What am I supposed to do?" he whispered.
The ghost's answer was simple.
"Grow stronger."
Outside, a distant siren wailed through the city streets. Inside the small room, a new path quietly opened beneath Lâm Dạ Minh's feet.
A path into the martial world.A path no ordinary boy could walk.
But Dạ Minh was no longer just a boy.
And this was only the beginning.
Morning sunlight leaked through the curtains when Lâm Dạ Minh dragged himself out of bed. His head still hurt, his legs felt heavy, and his entire body carried the aura of someone who had already given up on life.
He stared into the bathroom mirror.
Same weak body.Same thin frame.Same face people loved to punch.
He sighed.
"I look like someone who loses fights for a living."
Behind him, the ghost materialized, arms folded.
"You do," Dương Thiên Phú agreed. "Your posture is terrible. Your eyes show fear before a blow even lands."
"Thanks," Dạ Minh muttered. "Really boosts my confidence."
"You asked," the ghost replied simply.
His mother handed him breakfast as he left.
"Minh… please try not to get hurt again today," she said gently.
He forced a smile. "I'll… do my best."
The problem was, his best had never been good enough.
The moment he stepped through the gates of Lương Thế Vinh High School, the atmosphere changed. Students chatting, laughing, and walking together—except him. The crowd naturally split around him, as if avoiding something unpleasant.
Whispers followed him.
"That's the guy who fainted yesterday.""He gets beat up like every week.""Why does he even show up?"
Dạ Minh kept his head low. His shoulders curled inward. He walked quickly, avoiding eye contact.
Cowardly. Quiet. Easy target.
He knew exactly what he looked like to everyone else.
The ghost floated beside him, examining the school grounds with the calm eyes of a strategist.
"This place feels like a barracks full of untrained recruits," Phú remarked.
"It's a school," Dạ Minh muttered.
"Same thing. Weak, undisciplined, unfocused."
"Please stop describing me," Dạ Minh said quietly.
"I was describing them," the ghost replied. "But yes—also you."
When Dạ Minh walked into class, the teacher barely glanced at him.
"You're late again, Minh," she sighed.
"Sorry, cô…" he mumbled, shuffling to his seat.
A foot shot out, tripping him.The class snickered.
He hit the ground with a soft thud.
The teacher didn't look up from her attendance sheet.
Pathetic.
Dạ Minh pulled himself up silently. He didn't even glare at the boys who laughed at him. His heart raced, his hands trembled, but his throat locked tight.
He said nothing.
He always said nothing.
The ghost watched, expression unreadable.
"You fear conflict," Phú said. "You let them decide your place."
"It's easier that way," Dạ Minh whispered.
"Easy paths rarely lead anywhere worth reaching."
Break Time
During break, he stayed alone on the rooftop—his usual hiding spot. The wind felt good, at least. Away from the noise. Away from eyes.
He sat on the old concrete floor, hugging his knees.
"This is my life," he muttered. "Weak. Loser. Invisible."
"It is your current life," the ghost corrected. "Not your final one."
Before Dạ Minh could respond, the rooftop door slammed open.
Three boys walked out—same ones who threw stones at him the day before.
"Well, well," the tallest one grinned, "look who survived."
Dạ Minh froze.
His stomach churned.His throat tightened.His legs refused to move.
He was terrified.
"Relax, we're not here to kill you," another boy laughed. "Just want to test something."
The leader cracked his knuckles."We heard you fainted after just one hit yesterday. That true?"
Dạ Minh's lips trembled. "L-Leave me alone…"
"Speak louder, loser."
"I… I said leave me—"
The boy grabbed him by the collar and lifted him up effortlessly.
"You don't get to talk back."
Fear flooded every corner of Dạ Minh's body.
He closed his eyes—
Then suddenly, everything sharpened.
A calm voice spoke from within.
"Left hand incoming. Step back half a foot."
Dạ Minh's body moved on instinct—not his instinct, but the ghost's.
The punch grazed past his cheek instead of breaking his nose.
The bullies froze a moment.
"Huh?"
Another voice from inside.
"Duck."
He ducked.
A second punch whiffed through the air.
"What the—? How did you—?"
"Now turn your shoulders."
Dạ Minh's body twisted, and the boy lost his grip on his collar. He stumbled forward, nearly tripping over his own feet.
The rooftop fell silent.
The bullies stared at him—not in fear, but confusion.
Dạ Minh stared at his own hands in shock.
"I… did that?"
"No," the ghost said dryly. "I did that. But you executed it."
The leader's confusion quickly turned to anger.
"You little—! Lucky movements! Let's see you dodge THIS!"
He charged.
Dạ Minh panicked. His heart pounded. His hands shook.
"I can't! I can't! I can't!" he cried internally.
"You can," the ghost answered."Because I am here."
The boy swung hard.
The ghost whispered:
"Lower your stance."
Dạ Minh obeyed.
The punch sailed over him.
The next instructions flowed as naturally as breathing.
"Pivot.""Shift weight.""Let momentum guide you."
The leader crashed into the railing, hitting it with a loud clang.
His friends stood stunned.
"What the hell…?""Did he just—?""He's never dodged anything in his life!"
Dạ Minh didn't look strong.Didn't look brave.Didn't even look confident.
He looked terrified.
But somehow, he also looked untouchable.
The bullies hesitated, then backed away.
"Tsk… whatever. This isn't worth it. Come on."
They left.
The rooftop became quiet again.
Dạ Minh collapsed to his knees, gasping for air.
"I… I thought I was going to die…"
"You would have," the ghost replied calmly. "If I didn't intervene."
Dạ Minh clenched his trembling fists.
"So this is what it feels like… not being powerless."
"Temporary," Phú warned. "You relied entirely on me. Without training, without courage, you will break the moment I am not here."
Dạ Minh looked at the city skyline.
"I don't want to be like this anymore."
The ghost finally smiled.
"A good beginning."