Even calling it “taking care of” wasn’t quite right—he couldn’t give it a home. He just built a crude shelter for it near a garbage station and saved his breakfast and lunch money every day to buy milk and sausages for the puppy.
The puppy had probably been abandoned shortly after birth. It was tiny and gray-black, wagging its tail whenever it saw him and barking in a soft, babyish voice.
Lin Jin loved that little puppy. Even if he went hungry himself, he made sure the puppy had food. He wanted to see it grow plump and strong, survive the harsh winter, and make it to the warm spring and summer—becoming a proud, majestic dog.
But he never got the chance.
On the coldest day of that winter, while feeding the puppy near the garbage station, he unexpectedly ran into his aunt and uncle returning home early.
His cousin wrinkled his nose in disgust the moment he saw him. “So dirty! Lin Jin, why are you playing with a dog?!”
“That’s right,” his aunt scolded. “Dogs are filthy and carry diseases! What if it bites you—or someone else? Who would be responsible? Why are you being so thoughtless?!”
His aunt and uncle frowned and blamed him. She dragged him away by force, ignoring his crying and struggles. All he could do was look back and watch as his uncle kicked the puppy back into the garbage station again and again.
Through tears that blurred his vision, Lin Jin couldn’t see clearly—he could only hear the puppy’s heartbreaking cries.
He kept saying it wouldn’t bite anyone. It was obedient. It was just a homeless puppy.
He begged his uncle to stop kicking it. Said it would leave on its own. Said it was in pain.
He said he was the one at fault—that they could punish him instead.
But no one listened.
After that day, Lin Jin never saw the puppy again.
Later, even after moving out and living on his own, he never thought about keeping another pet. He knew he had no home and no ability to give one to a helpless animal. Caring for something meant taking responsibility, and he couldn’t even take care of himself—let alone protect someone weaker.
He never wanted to feel that childhood helplessness again. He never wanted to watch a friend be hurt while he stood powerless.
He wanted to protect something—anything. Even if it meant being pierced by blades, he wanted to protect something.
Fortunately… this time, it seemed he had succeeded.
Lin Jin slowly opened his eyes.
He found himself back in his small house. The usually quiet place was lively—Mo Yuzi, Liu Xun, Sanzong Yu, Hua Nanzhi, Han Ao were all there. Even Xiao Yunkong stood by the door.
“Master…” Lin Jin’s voice was hoarse.
Mo Yuzi, who had been dozing, sprang from his chair and rushed to the bedside, grabbing his hand. “Xiao Mei! You’re awake! Xiao Mei—”
Before he could finish, Liu Xun shoved him aside. “Move! He was calling for me!”
The two masters began arguing over trivial things again, but Lin Jin felt a warm surge in his chest.
“Both Masters,” he corrected gently.
“Ah!” they replied in unison, immediately sitting obediently by his bed.
Sanzong Yu shook his head helplessly and stepped forward. “Lin Jin, how are you feeling?”
“…Not too bad. I thought I was going to die, but it looks like I managed to survive. It just hurts a bit.”
With Mo Yuzi’s help, Lin Jin sat halfway up, still able to joke despite the pain. The wound through his abdomen pulled with every movement, making him grimace.
“Don’t talk nonsense about dying!” Liu Xun snapped, raising her fan as if to knock his head—though she couldn’t bring herself to strike his pale, miserable face. She sighed and glanced at Hua Nanzhi and Han Ao.
“I’ve heard roughly what happened last night. You went down the mountain to Jinlin City for the Treasure Fair, then split up afterward. You and Hua Nanzhi ran into demonic cultivators blocking the road. You told her to leave first while you stayed behind to fight and set off a signal flare. She saw it, realized something was wrong, and rushed to find help—running into Xiao Yunkong nearby, who had also seen the flare. Is that correct?”
Mo Yuzi frowned. “He just woke up and you’re already interrogating him? Can’t you let the kid rest first?”
“I do care about him,” Liu Xun shot back, “but this is serious! The ones who attacked him weren’t ordinary demonic cultivators—they were the Twelve Guards of Mingzhu! If Xiao Yunkong hadn’t been nearby, he’d be dead! We need to know why they targeted him so we can prevent this from happening again!”
As the two argued, Sanzong Yu raised a hand for silence and addressed Lin Jin.
“Your Master is right. The Twelve Guards of Mingzhu are an elite and secretive force serving the Lord of Mingzhu—far beyond ordinary demonic cultivators. We’ve already asked Han Ao and Nanzhi, and they said you only purchased ordinary items at the Treasure Fair—nothing worth killing for. So I need you to tell us truthfully: why did the Twelve Guards of Mingzhu come after you?”
wannaberecluse On SRTT Chapter 50.1