# Chapter 5: Five Years of Chains
*Five years later...*
The iron shackles around Riven's wrists had long since worn permanent grooves in his skin. At fifteen, he looked older—lean muscle stretched over a frame that spoke of the hard labor and harder beatings he had endured. His silver hair, once the pride of imperial bloodline, now hung in rough tangles. His golden eyes, which had once sparkled with princely confidence, held depths that spoke of things no man should have to endure.
But he was alive.
That alone was a victory the Argus Clan had never intended to give him.
"Riven! Move your worthless hide!"
The overseer's whip cracked through the morning air as slaves stumbled from their cramped quarters toward another day of backbreaking work. Riven moved with the practiced efficiency of someone who had learned that drawing attention meant drawing pain.
The Argus Clan estate sprawled across the hills like a small city unto itself. The main family compounds dominated the heights, while servant quarters, workshops, and slave barracks filled the lower slopes. Beyond that stretched endless fields, orchards, and the herb gardens on the mountain slopes where Riven had spent most of his captivity.
He had tried to escape exactly once, in his third year. The punishment had lasted two weeks and left scars he still carried. After that, he had learned a more valuable lesson: patience.
There had been a time when Riven went hungry for a week just because he had pointed out the overseer's mistake.
Mr. Cheng, the overseer, was a well-known bully. He had made tormenting the slaves his hobby, and about five percent of the slaves died because of him each year.
The Argus Clan bought around twenty thousand slaves annually, separating them into three groups: A, B, and C.
Group A received training and cultivation resources. Those who lacked talent were eventually auctioned off, while the others served purposes only the clan elders knew. Group B, which included Riven, was responsible for mining natural resources. Group C worked as farmers. Because of his escape attempt, Riven was a special case—he worked for both Group B and C as punishment.
"You, cripple," the overseer barked, pointing his whip at Riven. "North slope herb gardens today. The spirit mint needs harvesting before the morning dew evaporates."
Riven nodded without speaking. The overseer enjoyed verbal responses—they gave him excuses to find fault and deliver corrections. Silence was safer.
* * *
The climb up the north slope should have been exhausting for someone without cultivation, but five years of this work had pushed Riven's mortal body to its absolute limits. His muscles were like iron cables, his endurance beyond that of ordinary men. The shattered meridians that prevented him from cultivating spiritual energy had forced his body to adapt in other ways.
As he worked among the rows of spirit mint, carefully harvesting the delicate leaves and fruits that would become expensive pills for cultivators, his mind wandered to darker thoughts.
Wang.
The fat boy was almost fifteen now, same as Riven, but he had reached the fifth stage of the Body Tempering Realm two years ago. He was considered a promising talent among the younger generation of the Argus Clan, destined for positions of authority and respect.
Wang still found time to visit the slave quarters when the mood struck him. He always found creative ways to remind Riven of exactly how far the once-proud prince had fallen.
Just last week, Wang had forced Riven to his knees in front of a dozen other slaves and made him apologize for "existing without permission." The humiliation burned worse than any physical beating.
The sound of rushing footsteps snapped Riven out of his thoughts. He listened attentively and realized that whoever was coming definitely wasn't slaves. To be safe, he hid behind a huge tree trunk and peered toward the source of the footsteps.
"Han! Are you sure Mr. Cheng sent him here?" a rough male voice said as he stepped out of the bushes.
He was plump and over six feet tall, with broad, meaty shoulders and a skeletal face. Purple hair cascaded down to his waist.
Wang.
Hidden behind the tree, Riven began sweating and grew nervous. This was Wang, the most talented of the younger generation of the Argus Clan. His father was the First Elder, and his mother was one of the most powerful figures in the clan.
Wang and his followers had made it a habit to come to this place to steal spirit herbs to sell. The spiritual energy here was more concentrated than anywhere else on the herb mountain, so many rare spirit herbs grew here—which was exactly what Wang and his followers were after.
Three days ago, Riven had reported them to one of the Argus Clan alchemists who had surprisingly come to harvest spirit herbs himself. Now Riven was certain that Wang had come for revenge.
"Riven! Come out here—your grandfather wants to see you!" Wang bellowed, his voice booming over the herb mountain like a thunderclap.
Without hesitation, Riven immediately took to his heels. Engaging head-on with these boys was suicidal.
Fortunately, he had been tending to this herb mountain for more than two years already, so he knew almost every corner of it.
Riven started toward the deeper part of the mountain, thinking of how to deter Wang and his goons. Too bad they were cultivators, with the weakest already in the first stage of the Body Tempering Realm. It didn't take long for one of the boys to spot Riven and alert the others.
"Riven! Stop running and wait for your grandfather!" Wang bellowed and dashed toward the sprinting Riven. With his fifth stage Body Tempering Realm cultivation, just a few steps brought him to Riven's front, and like a predator that had trapped his prey, he pounced on Riven.
Riven's heart tightened in his chest and his legs began wobbling the moment he realized they had found him. In this moment of life and death, seeing Wang's punch approaching his face, though he didn't dare take it head-on, he raised his hands to block and tried to parry the force of the punch.
But he underestimated Wang's strength. The remaining force of the punch still threw him several meters into the air, and he crashed down, rolling a few more meters before stopping. Riven could even hear the sound of his ribs breaking. The pain was excruciating, but not as much as the anger he was feeling.
After struggling to stand up, Riven looked at Wang a few meters away and cursed, "You mountain of meat, how dare you bully this prince! Who the hell are you? Every day you bring your worthless friends to come and steal spirit herbs here to sell, and then put all the blame on me. You watch and gloat in my misfortune when you are the cause of it!"
After releasing all this pent-up frustration and not caring about the consequences, Riven felt strangely calm and satisfied, as if he should have done something like this a long time ago. Especially seeing the shocked expression on Wang's skeletal face, he felt good—but had no idea what was to come.