It hurts. The fall, as I saw the last facial expression on the faces of my children. It hurts, it hurt more than the impact against the rocks, more than the cuts and bruises, more than the broken leg I received. And it definitely hurt me more than when I stopped rolling, and my body finally began assessing the damage and sending pain signals all over the broken areas.

I couldn’t feel my face, I didn’t know if that was a blessing or a curse. But the rest of my body was in infernal agony. I could barely breathe, my lungs were laboring to get some air in. But with every breath, a sharp pain electrified my chest. My right leg was twisted out of place and definitely broken from the look of it. It will be a pain to set it back.

I didn’t notice at first, but the fall, was pretty high. It was so high that I couldn’t even see the ledge I was thrown off from. This hill or mountain was definitely steep. And the fall I took should have killed anyone immediately. But it was all thanks to this body, though in my late seventies. I was still stronger than your average man, and definitely more resilient.

However, my resilience will not save me from the fangs of a starved demon beast. And in this forest, these beasts were aplenty, or so has many of my Lucid Spring city had claimed. A lot of its people went here to hunt, but many left their lives here in search of riches. They were powerful and experienced hunters, and I was nothing more than an old man, easy prey for any that happens to pass nearby or fall upon my scent.

I tried to drag my body, but I failed miserably, even my arms, which I felt had suffered the least damage, had finally started broadcasting the pain in them. They were both bruised, and I probably sprained my wrist.

Still, I tided through the agony and managed to get on one knee. I looked up at the mountain I dropped from. There was no way I could climb back. Perhaps I could trace along the mountain’s base and end up back at the path it led through it. I could wait there for a few days, and a caravan could help me by then.

This was the plan I set for myself, and I was about to execute it. Yet my body didn’t respond. I noticed that I was shaking, signs of an incoming shock. If I fall into shock, I will definitely never wake up from it.

I bit the tip of my tongue, it hurts, really bad, yet this jerking pain, added upon the constant pain my body was feeling woke me up and stopped the shuddering.

‘I have to get out of here,’ I thought.

I dragged myself forward, with one barely functioning arm and leg. Feeling utter exhaustion after every move. And in no more than ten steps, I fell back to the ground.

‘This is not going to work,’ I said to myself, I needed a way to mend my broken body.

Catching a twig with my hand, I thought, I could probably use this with some rope to put my foot in place. Also, with a couple of stronger and sturdier sticks, I could make a cane.

I laughed to myself, it has been years since I last crafted anything. Being the city lord had pulled me away from these manual tasks, as I had assigned many people to do what I had in my mind after presenting them with the corresponding diagrams.

But now, I’m back to my starting days, and that manual crafting is probably the only thing that has supported me, was with me, and never betrayed me. Do it yourself.

I forced my hip and twisted my leg, snapping it back to place. The pain was enough to drop me unconscious but with another forceful bite of the tongue, I was back.

If I do this more, I might end up biting my tongue off.

I got more twigs and sticks, placed them around my foot then strapped them with a piece of cloth I tore from my robe.

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Then I dragged myself forward. Finding big sticks for walking in a forest wasn’t hard. And I used them to pull myself up. I could now move.

But my breathing was becoming a problem, with each breath I took, the more pain I suffered and this was not good. I fear that one of my ribs if not more is broken, or it had damaged or worse, punctured my lung. Though the last option was daunting, it was not possible, I was still alive and didn’t suffer lung failure, yet.

As I moved about, I felt a powerful gust of wind blowing above me.

Looking up, I saw a man, he was floating. It took me a couple of seconds to realize that I was not dreaming, and this man was actually floating.

He looked like a middle-aged person, wearing cultivator clothing, black and purple.

The only cultivators I ever met were from the Xuan Fu sect, and others from minor sects, but even among these sects, I have never seen one able to float in the air.

The man looked at me, with that same probing gaze that many other ‘doctors’ have done to me.

“You’ll work,” said the man and without even touching me, he grasped with his hand and I was lifted off the ground. Pain, back-breaking pain assaulted my body, it felt like an invisible titan grabbed my whole body and I had no say in the matter.

I couldn’t even speak, the pressure on my lungs was enough to shut me up.

The man flew over the forest with a speed so amazing I thought I was on a high-speed jet. He kept moving above the forest, headed to a direction only he knew. And once again I had no say in the matter.

I fainted somewhere along the road. And only woke up to the sound of agony. Not mine, but many, many, many others.

I was inside a cave, more like a cavern. Its ceiling was high, and it was lit thanks to a few torches placed on the cavern’s walls. A few things caught my attention. The first, a pungent purple-colored pool in the middle of the cave. The second a bronze door, filled with symbols, and words I didn’t know what they meant.

And in the middle of this bronze door was a handprint.

Lastly were the cultivators around the room, there were five of them. Each with a different clothing, different sect. They were our prisoners.

Yes, I said our, because there was not just me. The people with me, men, women, children. Of all ages and races. Dark, white, brown, and many. They were all held down with some sort of power that I had just noticed, it caused us to remain unmoving, unable to resist.

And why I say resist, is that one of these five people, a man also of middle age with dark long hair and a crimson-colored robe, sat in front of the pool, he grabbed the people around the cave. And pierced through their skin with his finger. Rapidly so that blood didn’t even have time to sprout out.

The man would then throw whoever he had pierced through into the pool, where they shout, cry, and scream in utter complete madness.

If I were to guess, this pool was so painful to the touch that they had the look of a person wishing to die the moment they touched it.

Yet whenever one of these people was thrown into the pool, this purple liquid moved as if it had a will of its own, draining them, drowning them, and ultimately killing them.

This…liquid, viscous, with a mind of its own, it moved and went through these people’s mouth, nostrils, ears, and eyes. Then ultimately dragged them down without them ever returning up.

More people did, and I sat there, unable to do anything to resist my approaching doom.

Fate? I have started believing in it, when I first came here, that I will be able to change my life and do something with this life. That my body thought unable to cultivate if I use my brain well enough that I could circumvent this situation. And then be able to become a cultivator.

Yet what is fate when one like these cultivators can bind your life, bend it and do whatever he wants to you without you ever having the chance or opportunity to go beyond his clutch and escape?

What is life when one can kill you at his whim? Fairness? Fate? I call bullshit…

These were the last thoughts that crossed my mind as it was now my turn, I haven’t even noticed how many people were thrown into the pit.

“Grab him,” another man said. And the one wearing crimson grasped his hand and the same feeling enveloped my body, as I was being carried by a giant’s hand and taken all the way to the man wearing crimson.

I was unable to talk, something was preventing me from, all I could do was moan, but they didn’t care about that. The man was about to pierce through my skin and throw me to my death. And I had no say in the matter. How loathsome.

Yet before the man could even pierce my skin, the other guy, the one who brought me in said, “There is no need, his meridians are already shattered.”

The man carrying me looked back at me with that same probing gaze, and shrugged, then threw me to my demise.

It felt bad, worse than anything I have ever suffered before. And if the falling from, a cliffside was comparable to a pat on the back, this pain was a full-scale whipping with a notched iron whip. Only this whip was made of molten steel.

I was going to die, and I could do nothing about it.