“Another cup of Purple Strawberry Tea coming right up!” – exclaims the waitress, carrying a metal tray. She’s a young, pretty woman in a long, tight-fitting dress, with her hair gathered in a bun.
Her movements are nimble, practiced as she weaves her way between the tables quickly, yet without spilling a drop of the hot beverage.
“I hope you enjoy!” – she says, putting the tray down and placing the cup near a customer. The waitress smiles: in a polite, artificial manner, but nonetheless sweet enough for the man in front of her to slightly blush.
“Th-thank you…” – the customer replies, looking down before finding his courage and matching her gaze – “I was wondering if we cou-“
He doesn’t get to finish: the door of the establishment opens, with a loud bang that rattles the glass in it, and a group of men sways drunkenly inside. They give no regard to the surrounding quiet and peaceful atmosphere, disturbing it with their loud, intoxicated laughter. One of them, brown-haired and with a pudgy build, gulps a bottle of wine – which slips from his grasp after a sip and falls, breaking into pieces that scatter over the floor.
“Goddamn it, Liu Chen!” – shouts another newcomer – “What are we supposed to drink now?!”
“Aren’t we…” – Liu Chen hiccups – “Aren’t we in an inn?”
He looks around and, after spotting the rooted-to-the-spot waitress, clicks his figures, beckoning her like a dog.
“Hey, you, with small tits, get over here!”
The waitress, glancing once again at their blue-striped robes, obediently, albeit with slow and unsure steps, walks to the group.
“Welcome, esteemed Seniors. How can this little one be of assistance?”
“Get us two… No, three bottles of your best wine!”
“Senior… I’m afraid this is a teahouse, not a tavern.”
Liu Chen brows furrow as he turns to one of his friends, a tall brunette that looks the soberest out of the bunch.
“Brother Kang, they don’t have wine here!”
The brunette shakes his head, and, in a stark difference to Liu Chen and the others, there’s no aggressiveness to him and no desire for confrontation.
“It’s fine then. Let us go to another place.”
Liu Chen, however, refuses to listen.
“No, no! How can that be! How can they dare to not have wine for Brother Kang’s birthday!”
Liu Chen then strolls to where a couple seems to be enjoying their tea – well, they had been, at the very least, until the group appeared – and smashes his fist downwards, breaking their table in half. The cups shatter, and the hot drinks scalding the couple cause them to scream out in pain. Nevertheless, none of them scolds Liu Chen: both just grab their things and hurriedly leave.
Most of the other patrons follow their example, running out as fast as they can.
“Bring us wine!” – repeats Liu Chen – “Or we’ll trash this place!”
“I’ll do my best…” – the waitress nods and rushes out of sight, in a desperate search for alcohol.
“See?” – Liu Chen proudly says – “A little encouragement was all that was needed.”
“Brother Chen can indeed be very persuasive.” – praises the brunette and yet, as the group occupies a table, a glint of displeasure flickers in his eyes.
The waitress returns soon enough, panting and with a bottle in her hands.
“I hope Seniors enj-“
Liu Chen plucks the wine from her arms and gives her behind a hard slap, causing her to almost topple over. She, however, doesn’t retort: only bows her head in harrowing shame. Just when Liu Chen, emboldened, plans to go further – a voice stops him.
“Hey! Get your hands off her, you bastard!”
Liu Chen jumps up, flipping over the stool he sat on.
“Who dares?!”
It’s the customer who bought Purple Strawberry Tea – only now, instead of a timid boy, he appears as a dashing hero full of confidence and vigor. With a hand on the hilt of his sword, he stares Liu Chen down.
“I’m Deng Peng, ranked 337th amongst Outer Disciples of the Sword Pavilion! Leave this place or I’ll have to teach you a lesson!”
With such conviction he shouts these words, with such righteousness, that the group, for a second, turns hesitant. They glance at each other, seeking validation of their thoughts.
Doesn’t Sword Pavilion only have 350 Outer Disciples?
A roaring laughter replaces the confusion. Liu Chen holds onto his stomach, his anger converting to amusement. He observes Deng Peng’s skinny as a stick figure, eyeing him with disdain.
“Do you have a death wish?” – says Liu Chen. But then, realization dawns on him and he smirks – “Wait, have you taken a liking to this mortal girl?”
He pulls the waitress into his lap, snaking his arms around her waist.
“Once I’m done playing with this sweet thing, I’ll gift her to you.”
To the surprise of everyone present, Deng Peng unsheathes his blade and attacks.
His swing is wild. Untrained. In the eyes of these men, for whom fighting is their way of life, he resembles a child that stole his father’s weapon.
The attack is so clumsy, even the brunette, who has – just in case - sneakily taken out a talisman and was clenching it in his hand, puts the piece of paper back in his pouch.
With a ruthless grin, Liu Chen pushes the woman right into the path of the sword. She screams and Deng Peng, in horror, attempts to change the directory of his strike. He succeeds, but stumbles in the process and falls near Liu Chen’s feet.
“I can’t… This is too funny. How can anyone be so pathetic?”
Liu Chen kicks the prone swordsman, sending him flying across the room. Grunting, Deng Peng struggles to get up.
“Stay down, dog.” – Liu Chen taunts – “I won’t show mercy next time.”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Yet, once more betraying all expectations, Deng Peng rushes at the brown-haired man again, roaring like a beast.
With ease, Liu Chen leans back, avoiding the sword, and punches the boy’s chest with a palm. With a cracking sound, Deng Peng is thrown backward: his spine collides with a wall and he coughs out blood, holding onto his ribs.
Liu Chen comes closer, flips the swordsman onto his back, and presses his foot onto the boy’s throat. Choking, Deng Peng attempts to lift the leg from his neck but fails to move it even an inch.
Cackling, Liu Chen opens the bottle of wine and pours it down, drenching Deng Peng’s clothes and hair.
“Get me one more jug!” – shouts Liu Chen.
“That… that was all that I could find…”
Enraged, Liu Chen hurls the empty bottle at the waitress – she barely reacts in time, duсking underneath it.
“Fucking peasants!”
Liu Chen presses his foot harder: Deng Peng’s face has gone red, his eyes bulging.
“Enough.”
The brunette jerks Liu Chen by the shoulder, freeing Deng Peng, who immediately starts gasping for air.
“Yao Kang, must you always involve yourself in my matters?” – Liu Chen indignantly asks, jerking free from the brunette’s grasp.
“It’s my birthday, Brother Chen. I wish not for it to be tainted by death, that’s all.”
They stare at each other: one’s furious and wrathful, like a turbulent ocean, the other – calm and steady, like a mountain. In the end, the mountain takes triumph.
“Alright. I apologize for causing trouble then.” – Liu Chen clasps his hands and gives Yao Kang a light bow – “Should we go to another place?”
“Naturally, naturally, no point in ending celebrations.”
Yao Kang then turns around and extends a hand toward the beaten Deng Peng. Deng Peng looks at it before he spits and hits the hand away.
“Deathmatch!” – he yells – “I challenge you to a deathmatch!”
Yao Kang’s pupils narrow, while Liu Chen’s face beams in elation.
“You can’t blame me now, can you, Brother Kang? If this fool seeks death, how can I not oblige?”
“I suppose I can’t.” – the tall brunette responds – “Do whatever you want.”
“In a month!” – Deng Peng continues – “I’ll be waiting for you in the Arena in a month!”
“Do you think a month would be enough for you to reach my level?” – sneers Liu Chen – “Even five years would be insufficient!”
“Do you accept or not?!”
Liu Chen snorts.
“You’re a dead man walking.”
“In thirty days, you’ll eat your words!” – says Deng Peng, as he limps toward the exit and soon disappears from the group’s sight.
“Can you believe that idiot? Why would he do something so stupid?”
“He’s too prideful. Too much ego for such a little man.” – someone from the group comments.
“That trash decided to die for a mortal slut, what a dummy.”
Only Yao Kang looks perplexedly towards the door, deep in thought.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The next day, in the quarters of Desiccating Draught Monarch.
Yao Kang sits near a giant wall of stone, his legs crossed underneath him. His eyes are closed, his expression bearing a gentle smile.
“How are you, Mother?” – he doesn’t utter these words: he thinks them instead.
In an instant, a cool sensation washes over him and a second voice appears inside his mind. One that carries an unadulterated excitement with it.
“Happy birthday, sweetie! I have good news. I’m so close, so close that my main soul can feel the Gate of Immortality!”
The voice morphs into an image of a woman, one that looks just a couple years older than Yao Kang, with features similar to his to the extreme: same startlingly green eyes, same straight, narrow nose, and same sharp brows.
Hearing her exclamation, Yao Kang’s smile grows wider.
“That’s wonderful. Do you only need to knock the Gate open now, before you can ascend?”
“Knock open the Gate and form my Dao Seed.” – she clarifies – “But yes! Your awesome mom will soon become a True Immortal! Ha, can you imagine?”
She quietens down and whispers.
“I miss you, dear… I haven’t seen you in the flesh for more than a decade…”
“Well, I’m not a child anymore.” – Yao Kang reminisces.
“Of course, you aren’t! You are the most dapper, the most handsome young man in the sect! The girls must be going crazy.”
“We both know I’m not interested in these matters, nor are they interested in me.” – replies Yao Kang, sheepishly scratching his cheek.
“Are you still hung up on that phoenix girl? When I get out, I’ll be sure to beat her up and make her my daughter-in-law. Who does she think she is, rejecting my son?!”
“Please, don’t. And she didn’t technically reject me.”
“That birdy got some cunning: she knows how to speak without making enemies, I’ll give her that.”
They both go silent, both deep in happy thoughts about their upcoming reunion. The pleasant silence lasts for a minute or two before the Desiccating Draught Monarch breaks it.
“I shouldn’t have gone into seclusion when you were so young. In fact, I shouldn’t have gone into seclusion at all.”
“Stop that, Mother. You had an enlightenment: if you missed this opportunity, how long would it have taken for you to gain another?”
She huffs.
“Mother is young, barely over two thousand in age. She has all the time in the world.”
Yao Kang chuckles sadly.
“And I don’t?”
“I’m sorry, baby, that’s not what I meant!”
“There is no need to apologize for speaking the truth.” – he states – “I already came to terms with my own fate. Just… don’t rush anything, okay? If not for your own sake, then for mine. How would I survive without you?”
Despite his reassurance, a despairing, suffocating feeling overwhelms Yao Kang. It constricts his chest and tugs at his very heart.
A hundred years, most likely even less on the account of the damage his harsh, inhuman training has done to his fragile lifespan. That is all he is given: less than a century, a mortal’s life, an insignificant drop in the grand River of Time. He would die, his body grind to dust and disappear, and his mother would continue on. She would live for an eternity, forever young and beautiful while his bones would rot, buried underneath the dirt. Other children, other sons and daughters would keep her occupied, until, even in her memory, there would be no trace of ‘Yao Kang’ left to remember him by.
Has he really come to terms with such a destiny? No and he never will. If even ordinary mortals struggle with accepting their mortality, how can he, someone who knows that there are Immortals and Gods in this world, whom he met and whom he was supposed to become as well?
He can’t! He absolutely can’t!
Yet, on the other hand, the will of a cripple matters not: without her backing, without his Mother being a bright sun that keeps the malevolent shadows of the Cultivation World at bay, who is he?
He’s nothing.
“Don’t talk like that, sweetie.” – his Mother comforts him – “I’ll take you to Uncle Nianzu once I’m out. He will surely have a way to heal your meridians.”
This is the real reason for her seclusion, the reason why she’s so forlorn in achieving a breakthrough. All Immortals are granted a chance to meet the Divinity of their sect, Long Nianzu – an esteemed senior that’s been around for millions of years.
“Alright.” – responds Yao Kang, affirmative yet without much hope – “I’ll be waiting then.”
They chatter for an hour more, until Yao Kang says his farewells. For someone at the Realm of Accumulation, sleep is an absolute necessity.
As he walks to his bedroom, his expression is determined.
The least I could do for Mother is not give her an additional headache… I hope you suffer a Qi Deviation, Liu Chen, you uncivilized, dumb brute. Explode to pieces so that I don’t have to see your face again…
I will need to clean up the mess you got me in, before that suicidal boy actually dies.