Chapter 233: Origins Relived: Birth of the Little Rogue
One year had passed since the emergence of the new house master, and everything that once defined the orphanage had become nothing more than a fleeting dream.
During this time of hardship, Su Tianhao had grown considerably—not just physically, but mentally too. His black hair grew long and smooth, tied with a simple cord into a ponytail. His brows had grown sharp and defined like the edge of a blade. His golden eyes gleamed with profound depth and intelligent fire, stripped entirely of their childhood innocence. Although only six years old, he already carried himself with the presence of a young man—cold, silent, dangerous. Despite his tattered clothing and rough appearance, his natural bearing was unmistakable, earning quiet envy from the other orphans. He didn't notice. He no longer cared about such things.
There was only one person he cared about now.
Chuan.
Chuan, now fourteen, had undergone his own transformation. Despite his age, he already stood at five feet six—tall enough to stand shoulder to shoulder with the oldest orphans. His lean build had filled out, more defined now, packed with muscle from a training habit that had long since crossed the boundary into obsession. His black hair had grown longer, though unlike Su Tianhao he had bound it into a braid rather than a ponytail. But for all his physical changes, his eyes hadn't changed at all. Those obsidian orbs still carried the same enthusiasm, the same liveliness, the same unbreakable positive spirit—as though the past year had tried everything it had and simply failed to reach them.
The two of them had grown infamous throughout the orphanage as the YinYang brothers. One calculative, cold, and silent. The other straightforward, fiery, and relentlessly alive.
At this moment, they walked side by side through the hallway toward the main doors, their footsteps the only sound between them.
They stepped outside.
What greeted them was a field of wheat—vibrant and lush, illuminated by the morning sun's full radiance, stretching across what had once been the children's playing ground.
"Would you look at that," Chuan said, his eyes sweeping across the transformed yard with open appreciation. "I bet next week's harvest is going to be the best one yet. The house master is finally going to see what we're capable of—and give us what we're owed."
"Tsk."
Su Tianhao clicked his tongue, his golden eyes cold. "Don't speak of that man."
"I know he took the jade pendant your father left for you," Chuan said, his voice calm and unhurried, as though he were stating something already settled. "But you cannot carry resentment in your heart forever. Life is too short for that. Let the past stay in the past. Let tomorrow remain in the future. Focus on what's in front of you—because that's what truly matters."
Su Tianhao's fists clenched. "I'm not angry because he took the pendant." His voice came out flat. "It doesn't mean anything."
Chuan's lips curved. "Then why do you still hold onto that dragon toy after all these years?"
Su Tianhao went silent.
A long moment passed. Then, without a word, he reached into his pocket and retrieved it—the small dragon toy he had carried with him since the day he arrived. The same one he had played with countless times in the World Anchoring Pearl, though he no longer remembered that. He held it in his palm for one breath.
Then he closed his fist and crushed it like snapping a dry twig. He tossed the pieces aside without looking at them.
"It doesn't mean anything."
His voice came out dry and hollow, his head lowered.
"I don't have a father. I'm an orphan. That is my fate."
The words hung in the air like smoke after a candle is snuffed—present, drifting, carrying the ghost of something that had just been extinguished.
He raised his head and started walking toward the narrow path leading to the orphanage gate.
Chuan paused for a moment. Then he followed. His face had gone solemn, his brows drawn together in quiet contemplation. He said nothing. Together they passed through the gate and moved into the outside world.
---
The town opened before them like a river rejoining its banks after a long drought—familiar, loud, indifferent to anyone moving through it. People in modest robes went about their morning business. Merchants argued over prices. Wooden carts clattered across uneven stone roads. The smell of freshly baked bread, frying oil, and dried herbs drifted from the stalls lining either side of the street, mixing with the earthier smell of livestock and river mud carried in on the morning wind.
This was Jiaohe Town—where everyone navigated life on their own terms, without much thought for those beside them. To Su Tianhao, it was home. At least, he believed it was.
The two moved in silence through the maze-like streets, their steps easy and practiced, carrying the particular economy of people who have done this a thousand times and know exactly where they're going.
The marketplace.
A place of orderly chaos: fast-paced traffic, crowded avenues, and the kind of people who carried enough coin in their pockets to make the risk worthwhile. The perfect hunting ground.
The duo slipped into the flow of the crowd effortlessly, their eyes moving with quiet, constant precision—reading opportunities and threats in real time, filing and discarding with the calm of long practice.
Su Tianhao walked a few feet ahead of Chuan. His golden eyes had already narrowed on a target—a frail-looking man staggering slightly as he walked, and more specifically, the leather pouch swinging loosely at his waist.
They waited. Patiently. Calmly.
Until the crowd thinned just enough.
An opening.
Su Tianhao moved without hesitation—covering the distance with quick, fluid steps, slipping through the crowd like a needle through cloth, arriving beside the man without brushing a single soul. One clean motion. The pouch left the man's waist and vanished into his hand. He folded back into the flow of the crowd as though he had never broken from it, the space closing behind him like water filling a gap.
No struggle. No hurry. No panic.
He arrived at a quieter side avenue and stopped.
Chuan was already there, waiting. A grin tugged at his lips. "How much?"
Su Tianhao opened the pouch and counted quickly. His lips twitched with clear disappointment.
"Eight bronze coins." He exhaled through his nose. "If we're careful, two days."
"Two days of poor diet, you mean," Chuan smirked. "Give me that."
Su Tianhao raised an eyebrow but tossed the pouch over without argument.
Chuan caught it smoothly. He glanced around once—confirming no one was watching—then pointed across the avenue toward a young woman making her way back from the busier side of the market, a handwoven bag full of groceries hanging from her arm.
Su Tianhao's eyes narrowed. "What are you planning."
Chuan's smile widened. "Move ahead of her. I'm going to take the bag."
"What?!"
But Chuan was already moving.
"Damnit!"
Su Tianhao cursed under his breath and sprinted immediately—not to stop him, but to stay ahead. Chuan was faster. If he hesitated now, he'd only slow them both down.
A piercing scream tore through the marketplace behind him.
Followed immediately by the rough, righteous voices of men who had decided today they were heroes.
"Thief! After him!"
Su Tianhao tilted his head slightly as he ran. Through the corner of his eye he caught it—Chuan racing toward him with the bag in hand, three hefty men closing from behind, and on his face, against all reason, a broad, almost infuriating grin.
"Stop right there!"
The voice came from the left now, closer.
"Damnit! Damnit! Damnit!"
Su Tianhao gritted his teeth and pushed harder, his heart hammering, his breathing ragged and sharp. His legs moved on instinct more than thought.
Stopping was not an option.
---
What followed was a wild, breathless chase through the marketplace—the two of them weaving through stalls and alleyways, cutting corners they had memorized over months of careful preparation, losing their pursuers one by one until the last set of footsteps finally faded behind them.
They collapsed into a secluded, shadowy alley—Su Tianhao sliding down the wall to the ground, hair and robes disheveled and damp with sweat. His breathing came in sharp, heavy pulls.
Chuan dropped to sit across from him, completely at ease, the exhilarating grin still firmly in place despite everything that had just happened.
"That was fun!" he laughed, wiping sweat from his face.
"What the hell!" Su Tianhao's voice cracked with barely contained fury. "You could have gotten us killed! We have a code—we got what we came for. Why risk it for more? We don't have the luxury for recklessness!"
"Oh," Chuan said, entirely unbothered, already digging through the bag. "But you're forgetting something." He glanced up. "Today's your birthday, lil bro."
Su Tianhao's next words died in his throat.
He stared.
"Tsk." Chuan's attention had returned to the bag, his voice arriving with mild disappointment. "Only food and supplies in here—no coin. But—" he held it out—"this could last us comfortably for three days."
Su Tianhao accepted the bag without a word. His expression was flat. His eyes were not.
"I'll take it to the warehouse," he said quietly.
The warehouse was an abandoned building they had found on the outskirts of town—their storage point, their secondary shelter, the one place in Jiaohe Town that was entirely theirs. Taking extra supplies back to the orphanage was too dangerous. If other orphans saw it, they'd want it. If they couldn't take it by force, they'd report it to the house master, who would confiscate it and punish them both. The warehouse solved that problem. It was also, on the worst days, somewhere to disappear to.
Su Tianhao walked out of the alley's shadow and stepped into the street's morning light. Something in him shifted—not consciously, not deliberately, effortlessly. His posture softened. His expression opened. His golden eyes lost their cold edge and became simply curious, simply young. Everything about him rearranged itself into the picture of an ordinary child returning from a simple errand.
He moved through the streets at an easy jog.
At the outskirts of town, the shift reversed. The lightness fell away. He entered the shadows—moving swiftly, precisely, each turn deliberate, each step placed with quiet calculation.
A few minutes later, he arrived at the warehouse: a wretched, run-down building that looked thoroughly haunted, the kind of sight that made most grown men choose a different route. Su Tianhao walked in without a second glance.
Inside, near-complete darkness. He moved through it without hesitation—navigating by memory alone, every corner as familiar as his own hands. He found the hidden compartment, secured the bag quietly, and left.
---
He returned to Chuan's side with a barely concealed smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"So," he said flatly. "What now?"
Chuan raised his chin, smile already in place.
"Now," he said, "we enjoy today."