VI | THE CHOSEN
Once, he soared high in the heavens above,
The agony of watching sinners descend,
As feather by feather, he met his end
Flesh, I feel it—cold and finally stirred—the tinge of blood I abandoned before my fall. How long has it been? I draw breath. Ensnared by snow, I ascend. Recollections of this vessel I bear.
A failing mother. I shall fulfill your heart and grant you tranquil rest.
Through the white expanse, the meager blood of my past within me defies the chill. The offspring’s recollections—a vast congregation of mammoths, numerous of them were traversing the quivering earth.
A moment seizes me, a mammoth calf wanders, detached from its guardian just fifty paces distant. Drawing the longsword from my back, I advance in silence.
Closer still, I leap with feeble flesh, the swift blade claims the creature in a dual stroke. Grasping the lifeless form, I retreat, a trail of evidence marking my passage. My hand extends towards the mammoth; a black mist envelops it, surging forth into me. I sense it, my form fortified.
This power… wrested from their deceitful depths.
Deeper I tread, the heart of this fallen realm unfurls. Every step treacherous for this frail vessel, hunger for power intensifying.
As I wander forth, a settlement of ursines emerges, a rugged enclave amidst the desolation. Primitive huts from bone and fur dot the landscape.
In a swift surge, I advance, alarming the Ursines on guard. With a decisive strike, one falls instantly, a claw descends, rending my flesh. Its maw seizes mine in thunderous roars.
A moment seized, my touch summoned a radiant power that vanquished it in an instant, dispelling the imminent threat.
Upon the snow, I lie, bones crushed.
Crawling towards the ursine carcass, a bloodied trail left behind, devoured by the white. My touch upon it, mortal flesh and body mending, yet the pallor shifts from white to ashen.
Kneeling amidst colossal roars, the fury of kin witnessing death seeks to engulf my vessel.
As one draws near, my sword strikes swiftly, devouring its essence. A claw descends, met by forelimbs, and another slash cripples its advance. A looming bite halted by my touch, magic rendering it to nothingness. The fallen ursine, I devour its essence, many charges forth, a swarm of Ursines descending upon me.
Fury, I rise from the snow, ashen and empowered. Swiftly, my blade rages, each stroke and touch devouring ursine essence.
A claw lunges, met with a parry, and another slash cripples its advance. The looming bite halted, my touch dispels it to nothingness. I move between them, slashing and devouring.
Their roars echo, but my form stands resilient. A barrage of claws and bites, the snow beneath me drank my blood and them. The power within wreaking havoc, everything surrounds me, yet with every strike, Ursines fall.
The ashen glow grows brighter with each fallen foe. Sword shatters, the Ursine swarm thins, but their ferocity persists. With a final flourish, I unleash a burst of radiant energy, dispersing the remaining Ursines.
Silence lingers, Ursines defeated, the meagers only within their existence.
I tread ahead, ruins of an empire sprawling before me. The capital unfolds—bridge structures, chipped walls, broken statues, and tattered banners.
Majestic, I once was.
I feel the land quake as five battered golems ascended, pieces of rock falling, their forms formidable—two arms leaning forward, and four wielding weapons.
I grasp a fallen’s hammer. I navigate the ruined brick terrains. Golem arms swing, but I step aside, using the height to my advantage. A strike with the fallen hammer, and one golem stumbles into another.
Dodging, leveraging the uneven ground.
Golems clash, entangled by their own movements. I strike weakness shown, breaking apart their battered forms.
A golem’s swing diverted into another, I press on, utilizing a hole to tangle and topple them.
As the last golem falters, I deliver a final blow.
Across, haunting to many, a chained woman, hanged, impaled by frozen figures meets my gaze, tears of crystal descending.
Remnant of a false god.
Before me, I shatter her with a fist, devouring her essence. I grasp a tear and depart.
Retracing my path, I’ve devoured many along the way.
In the periphery of ice, the ship that brought me here emerges. Its crew sets up tents and fires outside.
“Kid, did you do it? I knew you could. Where’s my share?” A man in thick clothing queries. “What the, what’s with your skin? Are you cold? Hurry, get inside!”
“What—is he back?” a woman descends from the ship. “I thought you were gone for sure, you know—”
“Mary, now’s not the time. He’s cold, see?” he says, beckoning to my slightly ashen flesh.
“Right, please forgive. My eyesight has gone bad from aging. Hehe.”
“That’s right did you prepare—”
“Yea yea, come inside!”
“Kid—kid!”
“Oh dear, what’s wrong?”
“He won’t move. Mary, get the blankets.”
“Alright alright, you stay with him, don’t let him move, ok?”
“What? I just said he doesn’t move.”
…
“He’s getting colder by the minute, is this frostbite?”
“No, he’s still breathing. Here, use this.”
“Right. There, there, it’ll be okay.”
“Honey, don’t jostle him like that, we can’t have him get worse, ok?”
“Alright.”
“He’s still and not moving, it’s working, right—”
Their bodies fell.
“False.” I spat.
I grasped their essence, and with a sweep of my hand, their corpses vanished.
“Nothing more than lies.”
I see false pretenders, yet the kid remained oblivious.
Everything in mere sight was dead.
I approached the ship, devouring its crew. I stood at the bow, gazing over the endless white. The vessel began to sail across the snow-swept landscape.
An Icy gust struck, sending the ship off course. A mountain of snow loomed. The prow impaled on a massive stalagmite.
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Dearest sister
The twin moon tonight shines the same silver light it did on the night I fled the palace. The Forbidden Gardens. Do you remember our secret hideaway beneath the jade willow, where we’d braid dandelions and dream of adventures beyond the wall? I sit here, thinking as if I were beneath that very willow.
I know you never understood why I left. Why I surrendered everything, the promises of a crown and throne. They called me a traitor, a stain on the imperial dynasty. But you, my dearest sister, were always too kind to judge.
Perhaps it was the cage, the suffocating weight of expectation. I, the eldest princess, a pawn betrothed to a stranger thrice my age for the sake of a treaty inked in blood. Or maybe it was the emptiness, the hollowness of a life lived according to others’ desires.
The night I left, I kissed your sleeping face, an apology for the tears I knew you’d shed. Your tiny hand clutched mine, and my resolve almost faltered. One day, when the light again shines on the Forbidden Gardens, I hope to find you there, beneath the jade willow.
With all the love my heart can hold,
Your sister, Yuhong Xianhua
Yuhong Xianhua looked up from her writing and took in her surroundings. The sky, a vast blanket of navy, and a twin crescent moon hung high in the sky. The only light source in the otherwise pitch blackness. The night air was cool and crisp, and the faint rustle of leaves sounded in the stillness. Xianhua breathed in, her lungs filling with the scent of fresh grass and blooming flowers. The thoughts strayed to her younger sister, Yuhong Meihua. A soft, sad smile graced Xianhua’s face, a wistful expression of yearning.
Meihua. Her beloved sister, the one she’d left behind,.
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Xianhua shook her head, chasing the thoughts away.
No. It was necessary. It was her duty as the eldest, and it had been her choice.
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“Doctor, are you done yet?” inquired one of the armed men, garbed in iron and leather, in white robes atop and a waistbelt of bronze. He was avoiding a glance behind him.
“Not yet!” was the doctor’s reply, taking a necessary break outdoors. Secluded in a thicket, beneath a tree and behind a shrub, he sighed in relief.
Aagh, feels good.
However, in the midst of his reprieve, a white-eyed youth descended abruptly, as he didn’t want to take the layers off his pants, he caught the doctor in an awkward and peculiar pose between two rocks. Overwhelmed with embarrassment, all he desired was an escape, and so he welcomed the sweet release of death and died.
What—how—did you just end your life like this?
Aegis stood and blinked, dumbfounded, witnessing an unconventional demise for the first time.
Gulp. I have to wear his attire too. It’s been caked—ehh. Seeing the doctor fell into his waste.
The doctor, abruptly revived, let out a resounding shout, “Aaaghh!”
“Uhh… doctor, I’ll stay a few trees away,” the armed man spoke, contemplating the true scale of the thing that came out.
“Doctor, a bee stung your eyes, and you fell into your own… doctor, bees don’t exist here,” the awkward words stumbled from the armed man as he gazed at the doctor, blindfolded, clad in a skirt fashioned from the carriage curtains.
“Let us go; there is no time to waste,” Aegis, the doctor, urged, prompting the group to move with haste.
Aegis departed after offending the city lord. One of the inner elders of the Mortal Heart sect had fallen ill in rift-induced ruins. Stricken by an unknown ailment, the elder sought aid.
Being a Kuzin with experience with outer monsters, Aegis decided to attempt moon healing. Besides, he had been fending off these creatures since childhood, and it constrained his external ventures; otherwise, he’d have already attracted a lot of trouble.
The pressing need for doctors and alchemists presented an opportunity. With this particular doctor less guarded, Aegis seized the chance when one of his trusted was separated and bound him temporarily.
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“What?!? They are not coming? A reschedule? They’re having stomach problems?” The inner elder, Xie Shen, exclaimed, tossing scrolls after scrolls in frustration. The inner elder was in white robes and had old white hair clipped in a crown.
“Senior, this junior doesn’t know, but it’s true. Only one doctor will be coming today,” the disciple responded, conveying the limited information he possessed.
Aegis, the doctor, finally arrived at the inner sect, greeted by a landscape of numerous needle mountain peaks shrouded in mists below. Pavilions and pagodas adorned each peak, connected by either rope bridges or stone pathways. Standing before a white and golden pagoda, his curtain skirt fluttering in the breeze, Aegis prepared himself.
He swallowed.
Entering, his heart hammered.
Aegis’s gaze immediately fixed on a veiled bamboo hat, adorning a flowing pink ruqun hanfu. A jade beauty with light brown hair, a petite frame, and ample busts—though her face remained concealed, he sensed her allure.
A dry cough, sharp as a cracked gong, shattered the air. Aegis’s gaze snapped away from the veiled woman. Xie Shen, his wizened face etched with impatience, held a gaze that could freeze lava.
He was already In a foul mood. Were there another doctor available, he might have entertained the notion of settling the matter differently.
Aegis bowed slightly, accompanied by cupping fists, the curtain skirt billowing around him. “Greetings, Elder Xie Shen. This junior apologizes for the delay. Unforeseen circumstances…” he trailed off, the lie heavy on his tongue.
“As you see, this junior is currently wearing this…” Aegis spoke in a somber tone, gesturing to his skirt and blindfold. “I have fallen prey to someone, and fortunately, this junior possess meager skills. They have targeted all who have come. Elder, this junior thinks there must be someone plotting against you?”
Elder Xie Shen’s fury simmered beneath the surface, his gaze like fiery embers. The doctor’s explanation, plausible, did little to soothe his agitation. The timing was suspicious, the inconvenience undeniable. His mind, sharpened by years of experience, already begun piecing together fragments of information.
“Plot or predicament,” he rasped, the word “doctor” catching in his throat like a dry cough, “matters little at this point. Can you cure me?”
“Elder,” he replied, his voice steady, “this juniors skills lie in healing, not theatrics. Of course, I can examine you. With your permission, may I inspect your body to get a clearer picture of your ailment?”
Elder Xie Shen, peeled off his robes, revealing a scene in the pit of his stomach, nestled amidst folds of pale skin, resided a gaping, pulsating hole, a vivid crimson to whatever nasty ailment plagued him.
Aegis’s eyes momentarily narrowed to pinholes; this was something he had not anticipated or known!
Aegis, attempted to mutter some vague incantation he remembered from a street performer using another language. Unfortunately, it came out sounding more like a startled owl cooing incoherently.
Clearing his throat, he straightened to his full height and declared, “Elder, fret not! My moon-based healing techniques require… celestial alignment! We must perform the Sacred Rite of the Celestial Dance… outside!”
Before Xie Shen could unleash a verbal tirade, Aegis had already ushered him out, positioning the elder, robes askew and dignity ruffled, in a particularly awkward squatting position facing the heavens. The moons, bless both its luminous hearts, took its sweet time peeking over the horizon, leaving Xie Shen to contemplate in anger.
The veiled woman followed them outside in amusement, and finally, the twin celestial orb graced them with its silvery presence. Aegis, beads of nervous sweat forming on his brow, launched into a series of exaggerated flourishes and movements from an ex-member of a hobo society. Alas, his “healing magic” produced… nothing.
What? It worked with Snow!
Sensing the imminent volcanic eruption of Xie Shen’s temper, Aegis, blurted, “Elder, the effectiveness of the Celestial Dance is greatly enhanced by… synchronized jumping claps! The more vigorous, the better!” Aegis said, demonstrating the movements.
Aegis declared, “See, Elder? The Celestial Dance works! Now, if you’ll excuse me, do this three times a day… read the scrolls for further instructions!” And with that, he threw a scroll to his face and ran off, leaving Xie Shen.
“You’re courting death!” Xie Shen coughed up a mouthful of blood, chased after him, and launched a palm strike, but Snow had already intervened, saving him with laughing snorts.
“OLD BASTARD YI, GET OUT!” Xie Shen shouted, his frustration escaping through the force of his words.
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Nestled amidst Longfeng mountain peaks, Zeka Temple, an untouched sanctuary, hides along a winding forest path. The air carries scents of moss-covered trees, wildflowers, and invigorating pine. Sunlight dapples the forest with golden warmth.
Through the mist-covered mountains and thick foliage, Zeka Temple reveals its beauty—moss-laden stones, ancient tree roots, and delicate ferns. At its heart, a sanctum awaits—a place for seekers of enlightenment. A golden altar, weathered by centuries of reverence, stands in the center, and incense lingers in the air.
Zeka Temple, known for spiritual enlightenment and pilgrimage, teaches wind sorcery, balance, and unity. The main hall, with elaborate black and white gates symbolizing power and harmony, houses a large golden serpent statue.
Disciples maintain the temple grounds, tending to vibrant gardens and engaging in disciplined exercises. Sorcerers manipulate arcane energies, and martial practitioners hone their bodies into weapons through relentless drills.
In Zeka Temple’s hierarchy, disciples ascend based on strength and merit. Zenmasters, at their pinnacle, embody discipline and wisdom. Achieving this rank in youth is a testament to extraordinary abilities. Zenmasters carry the torch of enlightenment, guiding the next generation with humility and grace.
Inside the hall, the temple master twitched crazily, both hands clutching the ruffled brown hair on his head. “You said he had white eyes—were you sure?”
This damned brat, what does he want now!
“Yes, Temple Master,” a bald Zenmaster in blue robes replied, presenting two scrolls.
He had just gotten back from dealing with a rift. Now, what headaches would he bring to me this time? He grabbed both scrolls, opening one, his face brightening. “The recipe to Aunt Mazila’s special stew!”
This brat!
He then opened the other, feeling excited, but his expression turned sour. “He wants to be a disciple of the Mortal Heart sect? Urgent?”
The brat must’ve known my connection to the Mortal Heart’s sect master; still, no problem though.
Excitement surged as he ordered the Zenmasters to gather ingredients, whatever the scroll instructed.
He immediately grabs a falcon mount and soars off, traveling for days, stopping at various towns before finally arriving at the Mortal Heart sect.
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting an orange glow across the tranquil pond. A young boy, his short, golden curls catching the firelight, sat perched on the edge of a pavilion, his line dancing in the still water. With a flick of his wrist and a joyous shout, he reeled in a wriggling koi, its scales shimmering like jewels.
Bouncing off the gently swaying bamboo surrounding the pavilion. He held up the fish, a grin splitting his freckled face. “Ren!” the boy’s voice rang out.
A chuckle rumbled from behind him. Ren, a middle-aged man, his face framed by a neatly trimmed beard, stepped into the pavilion. “There you are, always fishing,” he teased, settling onto a low cushion opposite the boy.
“Master Ren,” the boy bowed playfully, tucking the koi into a bucket beside him. “And what brings you to ours this fine evening?”
“Ah, well,” Ren began, scratching his full beard thoughtfully. “I was wondering if—”
He was cut off by a booming laugh that echoed across the water. A tall, imposing figure emerged from the shadows, his robes the color of deep jade.
“Ren,” the newcomer boomed. “Old friend.”
Ren chuckled nervously. “Sect Master Li, always the gracious host. I was merely hoping to… foist a talented disciple.”
Sect Master Li boomed. “Fine, let us wait until the next recruitment. We wouldn’t want to lower our standards, now would we?”
Ren’s smile faltered. “Actually, about that,” he said hesitantly. “It’s rather urgent, you see.”
Sect Master Li raised an eyebrow. “Urgent? That’s unusual. Exceptions can be made, of course, but I expect a good reason. This disciple must have some hidden motives.”
Ren cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. “Well, you see,” he stammered, “…he does have a motive, of sorts. I overheard him mentioning a desire to… court someone, hehe. Perhaps you know the young lady in question?”
Ren wipes his forehead inside.
Sect Master Li’s eyes narrowed. He studied Ren for a long moment, then a slow smile spread across his face. “Ah, I see. The Saintess, is it? Yes, I’ve heard from her master. A runaway princess. She is a rare jewel in our sect. Her strength might even be a champion.”
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Ren had gone back and left the outer disciple badge and some documents on a majestic oak tree with amethyst leaves. Now within the temple, a pot of soup awaited him.
“This! This looks heavenly!”
He takes a sip, the flavors dancing on his palate—a blend of savory and aromatic. However, a sudden churn in his stomach signals an impending urge, disrupting the blissful moment.
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In the dimness, a man in armor emerged from the shadows, marred and tattered. He confronted cloaked dozens, his eyes smoldering with fury.
Shrouded in black, their identities concealed, only the silhouette of their eyes hinted at their presence.
Enraged, the man lunged forward, but one hand of fire, engulfing him.
He searched for them, his children, his life. He prayed that it was all a nightmare, that he would wake up and see their faces again. But the tears and crimson blurred his vision, and the only thing he saw was death. The laughter of his son and daughter, silenced by fire. The pain of despair gripped his heart, his soul, his bones. He had lost everything, his family, his hope. He screamed, he begged, he pleaded. Give them back to me.
A memory. The sky was gray and heavy, as if it was about to cry. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, over and over, as he cradled her limp body in his arms. He felt a warm wetness on his cheek, and realized he was crying. He didn’t care who saw him, he didn’t care about anything anymore. She was gone, and he had failed her. He had failed them all.
Anguished screams echoed as he collapsed, writhing, as flesh was melting.
In Karak Mountain Village, now desolate, not even remnants of lives left. The ground slick with crimson, bodies twisted. “Two more remains,” A figure approached a stone tablet.
A sacred scroll engaged with the tablet, their energies entwining. The ground vanished, leaving an earthen cavity. The scroll morphed, bearing the tablet’s essence. Custodian wrapped it, a relic cradled beneath a cloak. “Let us go,” he uttered.
Another figure, hooded, played a flute. Eagle cries erupted as majestic white eagles descended, their wings fanning away the aftermath’s pall. Talons of forged metal, stained with crimson savagery. “Behold, not a single soul has endured the onslaught,” he smiled perversely.