"You carry a spark of that light, my son," the voice whispered.
Soft.
Gentle.
Like a feather brushing the surface of his mind.
"A spark even the heavens might one day fear."
Lu Mao's eyes snapped open.
For a moment he didn't move.
The world felt strange—fragile, like a thin layer of mist that hadn't yet decided whether it belonged to a dream or waking life.
He lay sprawled across the crooked tiles of a half-collapsed rooftop, the rough clay pressing against his back and shoulders.
Above him, dawn had begun painting the sky.
Thin streaks of gold bled slowly across the horizon, creeping over the jagged outline of the city.
Azure Sky City was waking.
Lu Mao blinked once.
Then again.
The memory clung to him stubbornly.
In the corner of his vision, he thought he saw her.
A fair figure.
Faint.
Almost translucent.
Silver hair drifting around her like liquid moonlight.
She smiled.
Her lips moved as if she were speaking.
But no sound reached him.
Lu Mao blinked.
She vanished.
Just like always.
Gone.
Yet the warmth in his chest remained.
A soft pulse.
Faint.
Alive.
He exhaled slowly and rolled onto his back.
The rooftop creaked beneath him as he shifted, loose tiles scraping softly against one another.
From this height the city stretched endlessly—rooftops stacked over narrow streets, chimneys coughing thin ribbons of smoke into the cold morning air.
The smells of dawn drifted upward.
Fried buns.
Wet stone.
Dust.
Wood smoke.
Below, the city began its daily ritual of noise.
Carts rattled across uneven cobblestones.
Merchants shouted prices with the enthusiasm of men who believed yelling could somehow double their profits.
Children ran through alleyways with shrill laughter trailing behind them like banners.
Stray dogs barked.
Chickens squawked.
Somewhere a vendor cursed loudly as something heavy toppled over.
Azure Sky City breathed.
And Lu Mao breathed with it.
His fingers twitched lazily.
He didn't even have to think about it.
Every vibration beneath him—the shift of loose tiles, the faint tremor of footsteps on distant streets—flowed through his body like quiet whispers.
The lessons of Jin Wu were etched deep into his bones.
Every movement meant something.
Every shadow carried possibility.
Lu Mao stretched one arm behind his head.
Phantom Doubles.
Doppelgängers.
Tricks.
Illusions.
To others, they were techniques.
To him…
They were art.
A small grin tugged at his lips.
And the city?
The city was his canvas.
He rolled toward the edge of the roof, toes slipping easily into the narrow cracks between worn tiles.
Below him, the morning marketplace had begun to stir.
A fruit vendor struggled with an overloaded basket of apples.
A rice merchant wheezed while adjusting his scale.
Two city guards strutted down the street like roosters who believed the sun itself rose because of their authority.
Lu Mao studied them thoughtfully.
Then his stomach growled.
He winced.
"Ah."
Now that was a problem.
His eyes sparkled.
"Perfect."
He dropped.
The fall lasted barely a heartbeat.
Lu Mao landed silently behind a stack of wooden crates beside a stone fountain, knees bending smoothly to absorb the impact.
No one noticed.
Of course they didn't.
He flexed his fingers once.
Then flicked them lightly.
A crate wobbled.
Tilted.
And fell.
Apples burst across the street like a red avalanche.
The fruit vendor shrieked.
"Hey! My apples!"
A sack of flour beside her tipped over next.
White powder exploded into the air like smoke from a cannon.
One of the guards rushed forward heroically—
—and immediately slipped on a crushed apple.
His legs flew upward.
He crashed flat on his back with a spectacular splash in a muddy puddle.
Children erupted into laughter.
Lu Mao pressed himself behind a barrel, covering his mouth to muffle his own grin.
"Oops," he whispered.
Chaos spread like spilled ink.
The second guard tried to restore order.
The fruit vendor screamed accusations.
Someone kicked over a basket of eggs.
Within seconds the entire marketplace had descended into cheerful disaster.
Lu Mao slipped through the confusion like a shadow.
Two rice cakes.
A handful of copper coins.
And—
He paused.
Something glinted near the base of the fountain.
A small trinket.
He scooped it up and examined it briefly.
It caught the sunlight in a strange way.
Almost like it held secrets.
Lu Mao shrugged and slipped it into his sleeve.
Spoils collected.
He hopped lightly onto a nearby wall and launched himself upward.
The rooftops welcomed him like old friends.
Broken tiles.
Sagging beams.
Crooked chimneys.
To anyone else they were hazards.
To Lu Mao they were stepping stones.
He darted across them with effortless balance.
A shout rose from below.
"Hey! That's my apple, you little rat!"
Lu Mao spun mid-air.
An apple twirled on his palm.
"You mean this one?"
He tossed it toward the vendor.
The man reached eagerly—
—and Lu Mao snatched it back before it landed.
"Consider it a loan," he said cheerfully.
"With generous interest."
The man stared in stunned silence.
Lu Mao laughed and vanished across the rooftops.
Behind him, chickens scattered.
Coins rolled across stone.
Flour drifted slowly through the morning air.
The warmth in his chest pulsed again.
Stronger this time.
Lu Mao slowed.
Something strange stirred beneath his skin.
The veins threading through his arms tightened faintly.
A humming sensation spread through his body.
Not pain.
Not heat.
Something else.
Like hidden pathways waking up.
His brow furrowed.
The sensation coiled deeper inside him, restless and patient.
Like something ancient had noticed him.
Like power waiting for the right moment to awaken.
Lu Mao pressed his palm against his chest.
"What… are you?"
The pulse answered with steady rhythm.
Alien.
Yet strangely familiar.
A shout shattered the moment.
"Stop! Thief!"
Lu Mao blinked.
Then grinned.
Ah.
Right.
That.
He flicked his fingers casually.
The world shimmered.
Where Lu Mao had stood, a burly merchant now adjusted his hat with mild confusion.
The guard charged forward triumphantly—
—and grabbed the wrong man.
The merchant screamed.
Lu Mao melted into a nearby shadow, laughter barely escaping his lips.
"Doppelgänger," he murmured.
"Level One."
He sent a Phantom Double racing into the crowd.
The illusion dashed between crates, scattering coins and flour before dissolving completely.
Guards cursed.
Children cheered.
Lu Mao vaulted onto another roof.
The city unfolded beneath him like a living map.
Every sound.
Every motion.
Every vibration.
Notes in a symphony only he could conduct.
He paused atop a narrow beam.
Sunlight warmed his face.
The pulse in his chest flared again.
And with it—
That voice.
Soft.
Familiar.
"A spark even the heavens might one day fear."
Lu Mao frowned thoughtfully.
From the edge of a nearby alley came a soft rustle.
A small black shape slipped from the shadows.
The cat moved with calm, deliberate grace.
Emerald eyes gleamed beneath the morning light.
Its tail swayed lazily behind it.
It walked straight toward him.
As if it belonged there.
Lu Mao sighed.
"Oh."
"You again."
The cat sat beside him without a sound.
He crouched beside it.
"You know…" he muttered quietly, staring out across the city.
"Sometimes I think something big is waiting for me."
He scratched the back of his neck.
"But I can't see it."
"Can't touch it."
"Just… feel it."
The cat blinked slowly.
Unimpressed.
Lu Mao chuckled softly.
"I've seen a lot already," he said.
"People fighting over scraps."
"Kids starving."
"Thieves dying over pride."
His gaze drifted across the endless rooftops.
"And still…"
"It feels like there's more."
His voice dropped.
"Something out there… meant for me."
The cat flicked its tail.
Lu Mao smiled faintly.
"Yeah."
"You probably understand more than anyone."
A gust of wind swept across the rooftops.
Laundry flapped lazily between buildings.
Lu Mao leaned back slightly.
"Maybe one day I'll find it."
"That thing waiting for me."
He glanced at the cat.
"Even if I have to steal the heavens to do it."
The cat blinked again.
Silence.
But somehow…
That was enough.
Lu Mao pushed himself to his feet.
Below him the city roared with life.
Opportunity waited everywhere.
He dropped back into the chaos with a laugh.
Crates toppled.
Coins rolled.
Flour exploded.
And Lu Mao vanished like smoke.
Hours later he perched atop the tallest rooftop he could reach.
His treasures lay beside him.
Rice cakes.
Copper coins.
The mysterious trinket.
"You call that sneaking?"
Lu Mao didn't even turn.
"I've seen cats with better control."
A figure stepped through the curling smoke of a nearby brazier.
Jin Wu.
The Thief Sage himself.
His old robes carried the scent of tea, sweat, and danger.
He crouched beside the boy.
Sharp eyes studying him carefully.
"Cats don't steal rice cakes, Master," Lu Mao replied with a grin.
"I do."
Jin Wu snorted.
"One day that tongue will hang you."
"Or make me famous."
The old thief shook his head.
"Unpredictable brat."
He turned away.
"You'll either die young…"
"…or become a legend."
Lu Mao leaned back, smiling.
Unpredictable.
He liked that word.
The whisper echoed faintly inside him again.
"A spark even the heavens might one day fear."
Night eventually swallowed the city.
Lanterns bloomed like golden flowers across the streets.
Markets quieted.
Footsteps faded.
Lu Mao settled onto a narrow rooftop beam beneath a broken awning.
The black cat appeared again, curling beside him.
He scratched behind its ears.
"Guess I'll start small," he murmured.
His grin glimmered in the darkness.
"Then maybe I'll steal the world."
The night swallowed his laughter.
And beneath his skin—
A forgotten spark of light burned quietly.
Waiting.
For the day it would awaken.