“The sea gives fish,” Husin whispered, “but this book gives something greater. It is the Kitab Silahul Mukmin . The weapon of the believer.”

The thugs laughed. But Zayan began to recite a verse about justice—not shouting, but with a voice like deep water. Passersby stopped. The fishermen gathering outside listened. A woman who had lost her son to hunger stepped forward. Then another. And another.

Zayan’s mother fell ill from hunger. His younger sister cried at night. And Zayan felt a black, burning rage grow inside him—a desire to take a parang and cut Tuan Raif down.

Tuan Raif was arrested before sunset.

“I have come to speak,” Zayan said calmly. “Not to fight.”

Tuan Raif watched from his window. He had expected violence—so he could call the authorities and crush them. But this… this was different. This was a wall of quiet faith. His thugs, confused, slipped away.

The Kitab Silahul Mukmin was not a book of spells or swords. It was a compilation of forty ancient hadiths and verses, each one a spiritual tool. The first chapter: The Sharpest Blade is Truth Spoken Before a Tyrant. The second: Your Shield is Patience. The third: Your Arrow is Dua. The fourth: Your Fortress is Tawakkul.

“Weapon, Grandfather? We have boats, nets, and courage. What war is there to fight?”