“Let me pass,” Yu Han said. His mind churned, trying to come up with a solution.
“Looks like someone hasn’t learned his lesson.” Bushy Beard’s voice lowered. He stared down at Yu Han with narrowed eyes.
“Lord Cultiv—” Yu Han opened his mouth again, but was interrupted by a punch to the forehead. He stumbled back, crying out.
“Should’ve left you in the forest to be a wolf snack.” Bushy Beard spat on Yu Han’s face. The slime dripped, smelling meaty.
Yu Han held in a sob and yelled, “Let me through! Are you going to defy Lord Cultivator’s commands?”
“Oh,” Bushy Beard said, “and what commands would those be?” He cracked his knuckles, then lifted Yu Han up by his collar.
“He—”
Slap!
Yu Han’s cheek stung.
“Go on, why did you stop?” Bushy Beard said.
“The talent—”
Another slap, this time on the other cheek.
“Quit stalling and speak, fatass.” Bushy Beard laughed. “Who the fuck gave you permission to just waltz in here when the nobles are doing their business?”
“Lord Cultivator ordered that—”
Slap!
“Every person under twenty-one years—”
Slap!
“Must show up for talent testing!”
Bushy Beard threw him on the ground, then kicked him in the gut. “And what the fuck does that have to do with a waif like you? You think you’re fucking worthy? You, a boring bucket of lard?”
“Y-You dare defy Lord Cultivator?” Yu Han swallowed the metallic bile and yelled, “A mere mortal dares? Whether I am worthy or not, it’s for Lord Cultivator to decide!”
“Y-You!” Bushy Beard stammered. “Defiant little bastard. If I say you aren’t worthy, then be it gods or devils or Cultivators or Buddhas, I don’t care—you ain’t worth shit!”
Yu Han smirked, looking up with a grin as blood and bile leaked from his mouth. “H-Heh.”
“What are you laughing at?” Bushy Beard unsheathed a dagger. It was longer than Jie Tong’s fish knife and better made, the shiny edge glinting in the sun. The same knife that Bushy Beard had used to strip his mother’s corpse.
“You think your judgement is better than Lord Cultivator’s?” Yu Han did his damnedest to sound shocked.
“Lord Cultivator this, Lord Cultivator that!” Bushy Beard twirled the dagger, the red strings on the handle whipping like lines of blood. “This is Riversong City.” He pointed his dagger behind Yu Han. “Listen up, you rats and vermin! Here, it’s the City Lord and us warriors that rule. Not some stranger from another land!”
A murmur rose from behind. Yu Han looked back. It was the gang with the scarred boy. They had come out of the valley.
Pedestrians had gathered around too, breaking off from the outer perimeter of the crowd. They were whispering to each other. With each insult Bushy Beard uttered, the crowd grew louder.
Scarred Boy looked like he could barely hold in his rage. The pedestrians had clear anger on their faces too.
A sudden pain struck the back of Yu Han’s head. He coughed, collapsing once more. A force pressed down on his neck. Bushy Beard had stepped on him.
The pressure on Yu Han’s neck increased, and his vision grew dim.
“M-Mother…” Damn it. Shit. Dad. I-I’m sorry. I was a bad son. I—
“Your beloved Lord Cultivator is gonna leave, and we’ll still be here. You think after this stunt you pulled, you have any place in the city? I could kill you here for treason, pig bastard,” Bushy Beard said. “And even if that sissy on the stage lets you test your talent, if I say no, that’s that! Even a dragon has to bow to a local snake.”
“Is that so?” A voice drifted into Yu Han’s ears, followed by a chorus of screams and a gurgling sound. Something wet splattered over his body. He gagged as it got into his mouth.
Metallic.
It was blood.
H-Hell yeah! Yu Han’s vision still swam, so he couldn’t see what had happened. But he had a hunch. Took you long enough, even with all that face-slapping from a bug.
Slowly, his vision cleared. He tried to get up, but something heavy fell on his body.
“Ugh.” Yu Han collapsed again, facing a throng of people who ran away.
“Quiet,” the same voice from before said.
And a heavy pressure descended on Yu Han, far stronger than Bushy Beard’s foot. The crowd must have felt it too, as all at once they stopped. One old man fell to his knees, head touching the ground. Soon, more followed, and in less than ten seconds, thousands of people knelt. Scarred Boy fell on his butt with a pale face, while his mates had long run back into the alley. No one uttered a sound.
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A football-shaped object rolled in front of Yu Han. It looked straight at him, a mocking expression stuck on the face for eternity, but pupils glazed over.
Bushy Beard’s head.
Yu Han pushed Bushy Beard's headless body off him, taking the dagger sheath in the process. The dagger had fallen to the side, and as Yu Han stood, he took it too.
The Cultivator looked like he was barely in his twenties, but was probably older than that. He wore a white robe with golden streaks. Cyan eyes, long hair floating in the wind. He reached out, and the flying sword returned to his outstretched palm.
Just like how the Hooded Man had stolen Yu Han’s clam necklace.
“You two. Come here,” the cultivator commanded.
Yu Han gulped. He trudged forward, hanging the dagger at his belt, forcing one foot in front of the other.
“Fuck—” Scarred Boy’s voice came from behind.
“Touch the talent orb,” the cultivator ordered.
Yu Han did so, while begging in his heart that the hooded man had not lied.
The orb lit up with a red light.
The kneeling nobles gasped. A chorus of shocked voices rose.
Name: Yu Han (Johan)
Level: 0
True Qi: 0/110
Pure Qi: 50/110
Body Origin: 5
Spirit Origin: 7.8
Mind Origin: 10.8
Traits:
Existential Anchor
Mortal Level 1
Deep Writhing Clam Bloodline
Mortal Level 10
Qi Affinity
Mortal Level 7
Arts:
Deep Sleep
Mortal Level 1
Initial Step Level 1
“Mortal Grade Qi Affinity and a Bloodline. Yet the red light of a Common Talent,” the cultivator said. “Not the worst.” He then asked, “What is the Bloodline called?”
“Deep Writhing Clam Bloodline, m-my lord,” Yu Han stammered, his brain overheating. Can
The cultivator frowned. “What is the Bloodline Art?”
“B-Bloodline? It says I only have one Art—”
“You dare question me?”
“Deep Sleep, sir!” Yu Han shouted.
“No wonder you still have Common Talent, despite a second trait.” The cultivator didn’t sound impressed. “Stand there.” He gestured where two boys with fancy wardrobes stood alongside a confused girl in pigtails. They were by the grand stairway leading up to the City God Temple.
“T-Thank you for your benevolence, Lord Cultivator!” Yu Han lowered his head, then stumbled away. He sat down beside the girl, who covered her nose. The two boys looked as if they could strangle him.
Common talent. Is it the lowest, or higher? Sounds weak as shit. But how rare is it? The crowd's reaction made it seem rare. There’s only three others so far. So how many have been tested? How big is the population of Riversong City again?
Yu Han wanted to collapse. He could not.
“Touch the orb,” the cultivator commanded Scarred Boy next.
The boy nodded like his neck was broken, then touched the orb. This time, the light was orange.
“Just like the City Lord’s son.”
“How can a street rat—”
The shouts drowned out all other sounds. The boy in black and gold robes had an ugly expression. He had the same grey eyes as the City Lord, but his face was more chiselled.
The City Lord, kneeling and shaking, looked as if he had seen a ghost.
“Refined talent.” The cultivator, for the first time, smiled. “Not bad, junior brother. What’s your name?”
“L-Li Yao,” the scarred boy replied.
“Strong name. Go sit with the rest.”
Li Yao bowed, then escaped to Yu Han. There was a large grin on his face, even as his eyes moved erratically and sweat dripped from his head like he was in a desert.
He sat next to Yu Han. The City Lord’s son gave him a venomous look, but Li Yao looked at the sky and kept muttering, “Crazy, crazy. No, for real? Crazy! What are these floating words?”
“Silence,” the cultivator said, and the crowd quietened once more. Not even the cats meowed.
“Junior Brother Sima Yan, to be a cultivator, one must cut their mortal ties,” the cultivator said.
Sima was the family name of the City Lord, and according to his memories, also the surname of the king’s family.
“This unworthy one accepts Senior Brother’s teaching,” Sima Yan replied. He bowed deeply, perhaps to hide his scowling face from the cultivator.
“Your father disobeyed my edict. All under twenty-one must test their talent.”
“T-that—”
“What if we had missed Junior Brother Li Yao, with the same Elite Grade Qi Affinity as you? What if he had joined another sect?”
Sima Yan bowed lower. After a long pause, he said, “That would be undesirable.”
“What if we missed more talents? Do not think me too cruel, Junior Brother. To give me no face is to give my Stormy Reef Sect no face. What punishment should be appropriate?”
“This one asks leniency for his foolish father,” Sima Yan said.
“Foolish is not the end of it!” the cultivator roared, his voice visibly distorting the atmosphere.
He sliced at the City Lord with his palm, and a heart-wrenching screech rose. The City Lord’s right arm flew into the sky, a fountain of blood trailing behind.
“All. Under. Twenty-one. Am I clear?” the cultivator said.
“Y-Your wish is my command,” the City Lord whimpered from a puddle of his own blood.
“Junior Brother. Remember this: For a mortal to insult a cultivator, his nine generations must die. This mercy will not repeat.”
“I am forever in your debt.”
The cultivator harrumphed. Then he gestured at the crowd. “Continue the test.”
The guards took the City Lord, who had passed out from the pain, away. No one dared to be tardy, and a line formed with both noble scions and commoner children.
“Crazy,” Li Yao said again. “This can’t be real.”
That’s my line, kid.
Many guards rode off with announcements all throughout the city. One came close; it was the guard commander.
“Father,” the fancily-dressed kid with Sima Yan said. The guard commander nodded, then whispered something to Sima Yan, whose face had paled. His eyes locked onto Yu Han’s. Johan had seen those eyes many times.
Hate.
If I already offended you, then let’s take this a step further.
“What’re you looking at, scrub?” Yu Han barked with his nastiest impression of a bully.
“Junior Brother Yu, was it? If you have something to say, say it. No need to gloat.”
“Why shouldn’t I?” Yu Han rolled his eyes, “Bandits, the lot of you. Leeching us common folks like worms. You know, my whole family was killed by bandits yesterday. My life, everything, gone!”
“That is unfortunate. What does it have to do with us, though?”
“That Bushy Beard, he stripped my mother’s corpse and took her necklace. Some guards you are! Meant to protect us, but worse than actual bandits. At least they left the bodies alone!” Yu Han screamed, tears falling. He mixed truth with lies, and didn’t even have to fake his crying. His family was dead!
His voice was carried by the wind to the commoners gathered. The guards looked away. Did they feel shame, or anger from being exposed?
Quiet discontent spread like a wave through the commoners, and even Li Yao’s eyes widened. “You serious?”
“Junior Brother,” Sima Yan said, “we must leave such mortal sentiments behind.”
“I will, oh I will,” Yu Han said. “But I ain’t no monster.” He grinned. “Because I know that unlike you back-stabbing nobles, there’re good folks out there who know how to repay kindness with kindness. Like my good brother Jie Tong, who we saved from a life in the slums. If not for his kind help, I wouldn’t ever have the idea to plead the Lord Cultivator for justice!”
Sima Yan, Li Yao, the guard commander, and the city guards nearby all gritted their teeth.
“Who?” the guard commander asked.
“What, surprised? My brother Jie Tong may be part of the Bloody Grass Gang, but he has a heart of pure gold! He knows what you nobles do, every dirty trick, every ounce of cruelty. You rotten leeches aren’t even worth his fart.” Yu Han’s smirk stretched across his chubby face. “Didn’t think us common folks could bite? Ha, look at you noble-faced shitters. Daring to defy Lord Cultivator. Serves your father and that Bushy Bastard right!” Yu Han cackled.