MC POV
My declaration hung in the air, a final, dramatic flourish on my grand entrance. I felt like a hero in a novel, a chosen one at the peak of his origin story, and the words "I am here to find my purpose... and my origin" had carried a weight I'd never known before.
Except, of course, I wasn't.
I had been so caught up in the moment, in the surge of destiny I felt from the compass's pulsing energy, that I had overlooked a few critical details.
The compass, it turned out, was a one-way translator—or at least that's all I knew how to make it do. It had gifted me with understanding their language but hadn't given me the fluency to speak it back. My own voice, when I had declared my purpose, had been a garbled mix of broken English, heavily-accented Mandarin, and pure, unadulterated delusion.
The warriors, their weapons now fully leveled at me, did not look impressed by my 'heroic' speech. They had no idea what I had said. My 'chosen one' moment was quickly dissolving into the very real fear of being a foreigner who had just blundered his way into a secret, mythical city. This was a classic case of chuunibyou—"eighth-grader syndrome"—a delusion of grandeur, and I was smack in the middle of it.
I chose not to struggle, a calculated risk. I let them lead me, but every muscle was coiled, ready to defend myself should they make a move to harm me.
They led me away from the city gates and into a massive building that felt like a hybrid of an interrogation room and a courtroom.
I was placed in a chair and my hands were cuffed to a heavy metal ring in the center of the room with a chain, leaving two silent, stone-faced guards behind to watch me while the others dispersed in a hurry.
The weight of the cuffs was a stark reminder that this wasn't a hero's journey, but a very real and precarious situation.
From the information I gathered on the way I finally realised where I was, the city of K'un-Lun, the birthplace of the Iron Fist. The legendary city of Martial arts, a place that can definitelt make me stronger.
About an hour later, the seats in front of me began to fill with people, all of them waiting. The middle chair remained conspicuously empty, a silent throne waiting for its king.
Five minutes later, a masked man appeared, seemingly out of thin air, and took the central seat. His presence was commanding, and the entire room fell into a reverent silence.
My interrogation was about to begin.
"So, why have we gathered here today?" the masked man asked, his voice calm and authoritative as he settled into his seat.
The guard captain, the same man with the stern face and long braid who had first spoken to me, stepped forward. "My lord, we have found that an intruder has breached the city."
"Did you find out how he breached the barrier?" This time, the masked man's voice was laced with a hint of concern, a subtle crack in his impassive demeanor.
"Not yet, my lord. We have yet to interrogate him," the guard captain replied, his voice a low monotone.
"Did you have any difficulties in subduing him?" he asked, his eyes, dark and piercing through the intricate carvings of the mask, fixed on me as he seemed to gauge my capabilities.
"No, my lord. When me and my subordinates sorrounded him, he surrendered without a fight. He made some strange noises and gestures at the gate, but we could not discern his intentions."
I could feel their judgment and their concern. The language barrier was a problem, but it was also a weapon.
"You know, if you want to know something, you could just ask me," I interjected, my voice clear and steady despite the handcuffs, the words now forming properly in the native tongue.
A flicker of surprise crossed the masked man's face. He leaned forward, his gaze intensifying. "So you can speak Mandarin, intruder?" he said, the words echoing with a sharp curiosity that cut through the silence of the room.
MASKED MAN POV
His sudden interruption startled me. The young man, who had remained silent and composed until now, had been gauging our reactions. He must have concluded that diplomacy was the most favorable option, a smart observation for someone in his position.
"I can speak it somewhat," he replied, his voice still a little strained but now in proper Mandarin. "But I would prefer if you spoke Hindi or English, as I am more proficient in them."
I completely ignored his attempt to gain information about our languages, a small tactic to maintain the upper hand.
'Cheh', Rudra thought, his mental monologue a jumble of frustration and assessment. 'He is completely ignoring my attempts to rile him up. And it appears that, except for the guards, everyone present in the room is much stronger than me. Hell, even that guard captain feels like someone I would have a tough fight against.'
He continued his internal monologue, a flicker of hope amidst his fear. 'I hope my grandparents are high up in the hierarchy.'
"So do tell me, visitor, why have you intruded into our city? What is your purpose here?" I asked, cutting through his thoughts with a direct question about his intentions.
"I am looking for my family origins, and that led me to this city," he replied, his gaze unwavering.
"How did you get here, and how did you breach the barrier surrounding the city?" I asked, my voice holding a newfound intensity. This was the information I truly needed. The barrier was the greatest defense of our city, and the knowledge of how to bypass it was a grave security threat.
"My mother's relic led me here, and it is also what I used to bypass the barrier," though these words were just his speculation, Ryan believe it wasn't far from the truth.
"Show it to me," I commanded, my tone brooking no argument. I needed to find the source of this breach and prevent any possibility that might cause the downfall of the barrier. Our enemies would not rest if they found a way to take it down, and I had to verify if this relic of his posed a threat to the city's security.
"Can I get these off me, please?" the intruder asked, raising his cuffed hands.
I considered his request for a moment, weighing the risk. He was alone, unarmed, and surrounded by my best warriors. He was no immediate threat.
"Release him," I commanded, and the words were an order, not a suggestion.
"But, my lord—" the guard captain began, his loyalty warring with his judgment.
"No need to speak further," I cut him off, my voice firm. "Do you think he can cause any trouble with all of us present here?"
The captain bowed his head slightly. "As you command."
Once the intruder was freed, he put a hand inside his shirt and brought out a circular pendant. It was a cat's eye with the Chinese symbol for 'Lei'—thunder—at the edge.
That is the heirloom of the Lei family. The thought hit me with the force of a physical blow. How is it in his possession? I will have to ask Lei Kung about this.
"Go and call Master Lei to come here," I ordered a guard, my mind already spinning with the implications of this discovery. This was no ordinary intruder; his presence here might be a sign of his heritage.