Milk_Is_My_Drug
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Chapter 14: Yanhai Costal Village
🕑 Added 2025-10-19 20:36:35 +0000 UTCThe first landfall after departing the Fire Nation was quiet.
Tai Lung stood at the edge of the deck, arms folded as the ship slowly glided into a modest harbor. Before him stretched Yanhai Coastal Village, a humble coastal settlement nestled against the cliffs of the Earth Kingdom’s shore. The green earth rolled behind the buildings, simple structures made of wood and clay, weathered by time and hardship.
Vice-Captain Han stepped beside him, hands behind his back. “Yanhai Coastal Village,” he said. “One of the first Earth Kingdom villages placed under Fire Nation control, about a hundred years ago. We’ll be staying here for a day to rest and resupply before setting sail to the east.”
Tai Lung nodded silently, his gaze scanning the settlement. There was no smoke, no noise. Just a heavy stillness in the air, like a village holding its breath.
“I’ll go explore the place,” Tai Lung said.
Han gave a brief nod and turned, barking a few orders at the crew to begin the resupply effort. With that arranged, he followed Tai Lung down the gangplank and onto the dock, the two walking side-by-side into the heart of the village.
The moment they stepped into the streets, eyes turned to them. The villagers looked with a mix of wariness, fear, and bitterness. Their faces were tired, clothes worn thin. Children hid behind doorways; old men lowered their gaze. The air was thick with silent accusations and unspoken resentment.
Tai Lung’s golden eyes drifted over them. For a village supposedly benefiting from open Fire Nation trade, it looked hollow, stripped bare.
He turned to Han. “What is the treatment of the villages under our control?” Tai Lung asked. “How far are we from the baseline we set for ourselves at the Academy?”
Han sighed, the humor gone from his tone. “Some villages are doing well,” he admitted. “But most are like this. Controlled, suppressed. The soldiers run them, and most see these people as lesser. It’s… common.”
Tai Lung frowned. “And what do you think?”
Han shrugged, unbothered. “Honestly? I wouldn’t harm them. But I wouldn’t help them either. I don’t care much about them.”
Tai Lung’s eyes turned back to the villagers. He remembered the village in the valley of peace from his past life, places he once terrorized after he was denied the Dragon Scroll, when he was betrayed by his father. Though he’d never killed anyone, the fear he’d caused, the destruction he wrought upon the villagers, the way he turned back on the teachings of the Jade Palace, had been enough to earn his chains. And yet here, the same cruelty, or worse, was being enacted by soldiers who called themselves honorable, and no one was punishing them.
His feet moved through the dust, thoughts spiraling, when he turned a corner and stopped.
A child stood ahead, drawing aimlessly into the dirt with a stick, completely absorbed in his own world. Tai Lung was about to walk around him when, from a nearby hut, a woman bolted forward. In a single motion, she scooped up the child and dropped to her knees, trembling.
“Sir!” she cried out, voice cracking. “He is but a child! He didn’t see you coming!”
Tai Lung blinked, stunned. Her fear was absolute, and it was directed at him.
It was excessive, terribly so.
He looked at her, at the shaking bundle she cradled, and a pit opened in his stomach. Something was deeply wrong here.
“It’s fine,” Tai Lung said, his voice level. He stepped around the woman and kept walking, Han silently following behind.
A few steps later, Han tilted his head toward him. “Didn’t you find her reaction a little… strange?”
Tai Lung didn’t turn. “Your words, and the villagers’ eyes, are enough of a telltale.”
Han studied him for a moment. “I thought you’d want to correct the injustice,” he said at last. “You wouldn’t be the first. Many noble sons come here thinking they can fix things. They eventually give up and many become like the others and start to relish in the villagers' suffering. Most of our people simply don’t know restrain and see these people as lessers”
Tai Lung stopped, looking ahead at the cracked walls, the tired faces. “I don’t think I’m the right person to fix this,” he said quietly. “I’m not a good person.”
His thoughts went to the past. Of houses he’d smashed. Of Shops and carts he ruined. Villagers he’d scared into fleeing the valley.
He’d wanted power. Wanted to prove he deserved it. Wanted to achieve the only destiny he ever knew. In his quest, he had harmed the innocent and he knew if their lives were the price of his destiny, his claws would have snuffed them.
No. He wasn’t the one to bring justice. He was not worthy.
They continued walking through the village, the sound of the wind blowing dust across worn streets. Tai Lung said nothing more, and Han didn’t press. The silence between them was heavy, but understood.
___________
The morning sun had barely climbed above the horizon when the ship's crew began preparations to set sail. Ropes were tightened, supplies stored, and sails unfolded under the commands of Vice-Captain Han. Tai Lung stood near the ship, his gaze fixed on his crew carrying orders.
Then came the noise.
Shouts and a clamor broke the stillness, echoing from the village center. Tai Lung turned sharply, ears narrowing in on the chaos. Without a word, he started walking toward the disturbance, the rest of the crew pausing their tasks to follow him out of curiosity or concern.
They arrived to find a crowd gathered in a loose circle. At its heart, a man lay burnt and crumpled on the dirt, tears streaking his ash-covered face as he bowed low before a group of Fire Nation soldiers.
“Please!” the man begged. “Please, she’s my wife! I’ll do anything, just let her go!”
His wife, a woman of fragile frame and weary eyes, was held between two soldiers gripping her arms tightly. She struggled, but they laughed. The leader of the group stood in front, smirking with cruel amusement.
“It’s your honor that your wife caught our attention,” he said mockingly. “And yet you dare to deny our favor?” His voice dripped with mockery, and his companions snickered.
Tai Lung remained at the edge of the crowd, watching silently.
Seeing the man and his wife, Tai Lung’s thoughts slipped unexpectedly to his parents in this life. At the start, he hadn’t cared about them. Gratitude was the closest emotion he had felt. But with time, that gratitude grew into something deeper. Appreciation. Respect. Even affection. They reminded him of Shifu in some strange way, stern, proud, and even more supportive than his old adoptive father had been.
His mind wandered further, back to the teachings of the Jade Palace: justice, honor, courage; virtues carved into his bones as a child, just as the darkness Oogway spoke of. He had forsaken justice when he terrorized innocent villagers in pursuit of his destiny. He had forsaken honor when he struck his own teacher, his father. And now, watching injustice unfold again before his eyes, doing nothing… he felt the edges of his courage slip, shamed into silence.
He closed his eyes.
Even in this life, he had been taught the same virtues again, by tutors chosen by his mother, by instructors at the academy, by his father's reminders before setting sail. All of them, in their own way, had echoed the teachings of the Jade Palace. All of them had spoken of honor and courage just like Shifu.
Tai Lung drew a breath.
He had no right to preach these virtues. Not after what he had done. He had lost that privilege. But maybe… he could still act on them, enforce them.
[If nothing else], he thought, [I won’t dishonor them. Not this family. Not again. I don’t want to repeat my life all over again.]
His eyes opened, golden and clear. Without a word, he stepped forward.
Through the ring of villagers and past the surprised eyes of the crew, Tai Lung walked toward the soldiers. Each step was slow, deliberate, and heavy with a quiet power.
“Soldiers,” he called out, his tone carrying effortlessly over the crowd. “Stop what you are doing. You’re giving our nation a bad name.”
All four soldiers turned toward him. The one in front, clearly the leader, gave a scoff of irritation. His smirk returned, but now it twisted with arrogance and annoyance.
“Great,” he muttered, loud enough for all to hear, “another noble son playing at justice.”
Tai Lung’s expression didn’t change. His eyes were steady, voice controlled. “You are dishonoring yourself and the Fire Nation by your actions.”
The leader’s smirk widened into something crueler. “That’s big talk,” he said. “We’re just having a little fun with some lowly villagers. What’s it to you?”
Tai Lung didn’t respond. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he stepped forward, closing the distance between them.
The leader raised an eyebrow. “You want to fight, boy?”
In the blink of an eye, Tai Lung surged forward.
A flash of motion, a flurry of brutal fists. The leader didn’t even have time to brace, Tai Lung’s strikes landed with pinpoint force, each one driving into muscle, joint, and nerves. Within seconds, the soldier was crumpled on the ground, groaning and barely conscious.
The remaining three soldiers jumped up, hands going to their weapons. Before they could draw, Tai Lung raised his voice.
“I am Captain Tai Lung,” he said, his voice loud enough for all to hear. “Son of Admiral Lung.”
The soldiers froze.
Murmurs swept through the crowd. The soldiers’ eyes darted between Tai Lung and their fallen leader, hesitation written across their faces.
Tai Lung continued, his tone as sharp as a commander’s.
“This soldier has broken the laws of our nation. He assaulted a villager, and he made clear his intention to violate a woman. That is treason against our honor and our code.” He turned his gaze down at the fallen man. “He has brought us shame. Throw him in the brig. Let him serve as an example.”
The three soldiers didn’t argue. Two of them moved quickly, lifting their unconscious leader, their hands trembling with restraint and nerves.
Tai Lung looked at them coldly. “I’ll consider this obedience for now. He was your commanding voice, but next time, if you stand by such actions or assist in any shape or form, you will share in the punishment.”
Then he turned his head toward Han, who had silently followed the confrontation with a thoughtful expression. “Help me draft a report,” Tai Lung said. “We’ll send word to the capital. This man will face a proper trial.”
Han gave a short nod and moved to his side, pulling out a parchment and ink from his satchel.
With the situation settling, Tai Lung turned to the villager, still kneeling in the dust and next to him his wife, both of them shaken and wary.
“I apologize for what you had to go through,” Tai Lung said gently. “You might not believe my words, but we have laws. And we expect our soldiers to follow a code of honor. What you experienced was the behavior of bad men, bad apples. We do not condone it.”
The man looked up slowly, eyes wide, mouth slightly parted, eyes never leaving Tai Lung’s face.
In all his years, he had never heard a Fire Nation soldier, let alone a noble, apologize. Most of them were worse than the regular troops, drunk on their lineage and eager to play conqueror. Yet here stood a noble son, young, powerful, and apologizing.
He didn’t know what to say.
Tai Lung gave him a small, respectful nod, then turned away.
