### Chen Wei
The village was called Millbrook. Chen Wei found it after walking for hours. His feet hurt. His stomach growled. He had no coins and no food, and he was so weak that his hands shook.
Millbrook was small and dirty. Twenty houses at most, all made of gray wood. One well in the center. One tavern with a cracked sign that read The Rusty Nail. The smell of bread baking made Chen Wei's mouth water.
He pushed open the tavern door. The room was dark and loud. Four tables, eight men, all rough looking. A woman stood behind the bar. She was forty years old, muscular, with a scar across her nose. She wiped a glass with a rag that looked dirtier than the glass.
"You need something?" she asked.
"Food and work," Chen Wei said.
"You got coins?"
"None."
She set down the glass. "Then you need to leave."
A big man at one of the tables laughed. He was bald with a wolf tattoo on his neck, at least six feet tall and wide as a door. "Look at this beggar," he said. "Let him stay. It is funny watching them squirm."
Chen Wei kept his eyes on the woman. "I can clean tables. I can carry barrels. I can fight if I have to."
The big man stood up. His chair scraped the floor. "Fight? You could not fight your way out of a coffin." He walked over to Chen Wei and poked his chest with a thick finger. "Trouble found you, boy."
The other men laughed. The woman sighed. "Leave him alone, Gunter. He is not worth the mess."
Gunter grinned. His teeth were yellow. He pulled a knife from his belt, a short blade with a serrated edge. "I will clean it up after."
Chen Wei looked at the knife, then at Gunter's eyes. His heart pounded. His hands shook. But something else moved inside him, something hot and fast. The golden mark on his palm blazed with heat.
Gunter swung the knife.
Chen Wei's body moved on its own. He grabbed Gunter's wrist and twisted hard. The knife clattered to the floor. He drove his knee into Gunter's stomach, and the big man folded with a whoosh of air. Chen Wei grabbed Gunter's head and slammed it onto the table.
Wood cracked. Blood sprayed from Gunter's nose. The big man slid to the floor, unconscious.
The other men stood up, hands on their weapons. Chen Wei raised his palm. The golden mark glowed bright, spilling light across the room. Everyone froze.
The woman behind the bar watched with narrowed eyes. "Sit down," she said. The men sat.
Chen Wei looked at his palm. The glow faded. His hand started shaking again. He turned to the woman. "The job. Still available?"
She stared at him for a long moment. "Clean the back room. Pay is two coppers a day. Food included."
"Done."
He walked behind the bar. The woman handed him a bucket and a rag. "You got a name?"
"Chen Wei."
"I am Marta." She leaned closer and lowered her voice. "That mark on your hand. I saw something like it once, a long time ago, on a dead man."
Chen Wei's blood went cold. "What happened to him?"
"He got hunted," Marta said. "By a king who does not leave witnesses."
She walked away. Chen Wei stood there, holding the bucket, staring at his glowing palm. He didn't know who the king was. He didn't know why the mark had appeared. But he knew one thing for sure. He was not safe here.
He cleaned the back room. The rats in the walls watched him. When he finished, Marta gave him a piece of bread and a cup of water. He ate slowly, savoring every bite.
That night, he slept on a straw mattress in the back room. The ceiling leaked. The rats scratched. He stared at the golden mark on his palm. It pulsed softly in the dark.
"What are you?" he whispered.
No answer. The mark just glowed and faded, glow and fade, like a heartbeat that did not belong to him. He fell asleep with his hand pressed against his chest.
---
### Huang Zhen
The Eastern Temple stood on a hill surrounded by old trees. Huang Zhen climbed the stone steps slowly. The moon was hidden behind clouds. The air smelled of rain and decay.
He reached the top and pushed open the wooden gates. The courtyard was empty. Too empty. No guards, no priests, no sounds at all. Just the wind blowing through broken windows.
A scout ran out from the main hall. The man was young and eager, smiling wide. He bowed low. "My king! I captured the insect for you. I brought him here to wait for your arrival."
Huang said nothing. He walked into the main hall.
The hall was lit by candles. The air was thick with incense. A young man lay on the stone altar, his wrists and ankles bound with rope. His face was bruised, his clothes torn. He looked like a farmer, not a warrior. His eyes were wide with terror.
Huang walked to the altar and looked down at the prisoner. Then he looked at the prisoner's hands. No golden mark. No Fargement at all.
He turned to the scout. "Where is the mark?"
The scout's smile faltered. "The mark, my king?"
"The Dawn Fargement. The golden mark on his palm. Where is it?"
The scout looked at the prisoner's hands. His face went pale. "I thought this was him. The description matched. Young, dark hair, found near the temple."
"The description did not mention a golden mark?" Huang's voice was quiet. That was never a good sign.
The scout swallowed hard. "I assumed the mark would be there. I did not check. I was so eager to capture him for you, my king."
The prisoner on the altar started begging. "Please, I am just a farmer. I came to pray. I do not know anything about marks or kings. Please let me go."
Huang looked at the farmer. Then at the scout. Then back at the farmer.
"You are not the one I want," Huang said to the farmer. "But you will die because of this fool's mistake."
He raised one finger. A small flame danced on his fingertip.
The farmer screamed. "No, please, I have a wife, I have children."
Huang touched the farmer's face. The man's skin blistered and melted. The smell of burning flesh filled the hall. The farmer thrashed against his ropes, his screams turning into wet gurgles. Then he went still. Dead.
Huang turned to the scout. The scout fell to his knees, trembling. "Mercy, my king. I made a mistake. I will find the real one. I swear on my life."
Huang grabbed the scout's head with both hands. He held it still. "That farmer is dead because of you. You killed an innocent man. You wasted my time. And you made me look like a fool."
He pressed his thumbs into the scout's eyes.
The scout screamed. Blood ran down his face. He clawed at Huang's hands, but Huang did not move. The screams echoed off the stone walls. When it was done, the scout lay on the floor, blind and moaning, his eye sockets empty and red.
Huang stood up. He looked down at the scout. "Find me the real insect. Ask questions. Look for the mark. Do not waste my time again. If you fail, I will burn your family alive while you watch."
He walked out of the main hall. The blind scout crawled after him, begging, but Huang did not look back.
He stepped over the dead guards and walked down the stone steps. The rain started falling, cold and heavy. It washed the blood off his hands.
Huang leaves. His mood is black.