Just as Ishan raised his hand to deliver another slap, a deep, commanding voice echoed through the street.
The voice was thick and heavy — a sound that carried both age and authority.
Ishan turned, his eyes finding a middle-aged man walking toward him. Two guards followed closely on either side. The man's features resembled the arrogant youth now trembling nearby — the same sharp chin, the same proud eyes.
So, this must be his father, Ishan thought. And now I see where that arrogance comes from.
A faint smile curved his lips."So, this is the mighty family everyone speaks of," Ishan said dryly.
The man caught the sarcasm in his tone. His face darkened."How dare you mock my family, boy!" he snapped. "Do you even know who my father is? One word from him, and your life will be ruined!"
Ishan chuckled softly. "Is that so? Then I'd very much like to meet your father. I'm curious where all this pride is born from."
He tossed the boy lightly toward his father's feet. The young master stumbled like a sack of grain, landing hard. His cheek, red and swollen from Ishan's earlier slap, burned with humiliation. He could barely stand.
The middle-aged man's anger flared — until another voice, older and sterner, rang out.
"What's going on here?!"
That voice made even the father straighten. He turned, relief flashing in his eyes. "Now you're finished, boy," he said to Ishan, sneering. "No one can save you now."
Ishan only shrugged, calm and unbothered — which made the man's rage boil hotter.
From the distance came an old man, flanked by several attendants. His silver hair gleamed beneath the afternoon light, his steps firm, his presence commanding. This was Bhanu Kunji, patriarch of the Kunji Family — and one of the strongest cultivators in Sherpur.
He stopped before the two and spoke coldly:"I told you both — I wanted no trouble today. Yet you behave as if you're above everyone else! Have you lost all sense of restraint?"
The middle-aged man rolled his eyes slightly, a look of irritation crossing his face. "Father, it wasn't me this time," he said quickly. "This boy here — he insulted our family, slapped your grandson, and even mocked our name!"
He pointed directly at Ishan.
Bhanu turned to see who he was accusing… and froze.
For a moment, his breath caught. Then his eyes widened in disbelief. He blinked — once, twice — and in a flash, he was standing before Ishan, bowing deeply.
"Young… Young Master! You—how are you here?!"
The entire street fell silent.
People stared, unable to believe what they were seeing. Bhanu Kunji, the man known as the most powerful warrior in Sherpur — a man who even spoke to the Boss Family's branch leader as an equal — was bowing to this stranger?
Whispers filled the crowd like wind through dry leaves.
Ishan, however, stepped forward and gently raised Bhanu from his bow. "Uncle Bhanu, I've told you before," he said kindly. "You're like family to me. You never have to bow."
Those words struck everyone silent.
Bhanu Kunji — the feared patriarch — was this young man's uncle? Then who exactly was Ishan?
Bhanu's eyes softened. "Young Master… it's been three years since I last saw you," he said, voice trembling slightly. "You've grown into your father's image. It's as if I'm seeing the master again."
Ishan felt a pang in his heart. The man he's seeing isn't the same one he once knew. That Ishan — the true heir of the Singhania bloodline — had died long ago. Only his soul remained now, walking the path toward the heavens.
He smiled faintly. "Uncle Bhanu, you flatter me. If you go on like this, I might actually blush."
Bhanu chuckled warmly, and even Ishan let out a quiet laugh. For a moment, the tension dissolved.
Then their eyes turned toward the father and son duo — now frozen in fear.
Bhanu's warmth vanished. His voice turned to thunder."Now… you two will explain everything from the start. Miss one detail, and neither of you will leave this street standing."
The middle-aged man paled. Without thinking, he slapped his son across the face."Father, it was all this foolish boy's doing!" he said desperately. "He causes trouble every day. I'll make sure he's punished severely."
Bhanu's glare hardened."He's also my grandson. I'll decide his punishment. First, tell me — who allowed him to ride that beast? Did I not make it clear that he's forbidden from approaching any creature stronger than him?"
No one dared breathe.
"Find out who was responsible," Bhanu continued coldly. "Dock their wages for three months. And this boy—" he jabbed a finger toward his trembling grandson "—will not leave the mansion for six months. He'll eat only what a commoner can afford, and he'll earn every grain through labor. Only then will he learn humility."
The young master's face went pale. He couldn't believe his own grandfather had sentenced him so harshly. But Ishan understood.He's teaching him the value of struggle, Ishan thought. Only through hardship will he learn to respect life.
Bhanu then turned back to Ishan, his expression soft again."Young Master, what brings you to Sherpur? And why didn't you send word ahead?"
Ishan waved a hand dismissively. "It's nothing, Uncle Bhanu. Let's just say I felt nostalgic and decided to visit. I was simply walking through the market… but tell me, you mentioned you didn't want trouble today. Why is that? Something happening?"
Bhanu nodded. "Ah, yes. Today is the Festival of Shanratsha — Sherpur's most sacred celebration. The Boss Family placed our Kunji Family in charge of the preparations. I told these fools not to cause any commotion… but well, you can see how well that went."
He sighed, then smiled. "Young Master, since you're here, please honor this old servant by visiting my home. Allow me the chance to serve you again."
Ishan frowned playfully. "Uncle Bhanu, you're not my servant. You raised me. After my parents, you're the one I respect most. Call yourself a servant again, and I won't talk to you."
He puffed his cheeks like a sulking child.
Bhanu chuckled warmly. The same childishness — just like before. "Alright, alright, I won't say it again. But will you at least come with me?"
"I'd love to," Ishan said with a grin. "I was planning to explore anyway."
Bhanu's smile deepened. He sent servants ahead to prepare his estate and walked with Ishan through the bustling marketplace.
The streets were alive with laughter and color.Children ran with glowing lanterns; merchants called out their prices; women haggled over jewelry and spices. The air smelled of roasted fruit and incense.
Today was Shanratsha, the Festival of Lighted Wishes.
On this day, every family crafted a small Shanra — a pyramid-shaped lantern of radiant light. Each person whispered a single wish before placing it into the Shanra River, which flowed like silver through the heart of Sherpur, dividing the city in two. Three grand bridges arched over its shimmering surface.
No one remembered who began this tradition, or why. But for centuries, the people of Sherpur had lit their hopes upon the water — and the river carried them into the stars.
And tonight… one more light, carrying the destiny of a reborn soul, would soon join them.