CHAPTER 1
When talent is an affront to the heavens, what of the talentless? When all cultivators defy the heavens, what of those that can’t?
Perhaps those with little talent in the ways of immortality should seek the way of mortals, but what of those completely bereft of even a mere iota of cultivation talent, who weren’t even given the choice? What of those that lacked comprehension in not just the martial way, but even the way of mortals?
The heavens are fair, and when all are their enemies, those that aren’t must be utilized!
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To start a new life, another must be destroyed!
“What have you done?!”
Zhu learned that one the hard way.
“I, I didn’t think…“
Nothing could be said to fix this, or more explicitly… well, this was ridiculous. How did this even happen?
A single drop of sweat slid down Zhu’s inclined wrist, across his palm, and along the edge of the knife in his grasp, where it mingled with fresh blood.
“Zhu.”
“Dad…”
A splattering of crimson littered the rich rug and polished wooden floorboards, serving as decoration to the robed figure that gasped and gurgled. The young man’s once handsome, rugged features had paled beyond recognition, and his sneer and his prideful attitude had been irrevocably shattered.
Zhu was petrified. He could scarcely believe himself. He hadn’t considered his actions, relying on instincts in a time of perceived disaster. Even his reliable father stood stock still, an extremely complicated expression morphing his usually comforting countenance.
It was like this that they watched the death of an emissary, sent by none other than a local sect of immortals, their minds racing at the repercussions that were sure to follow.
Their family was nothing compared to a sect. Even a small sect would have a hundred times their number, a thousand times their resources, and ten thousand times their strength! And Zhu had provoked them!
It would be incorrect to say that Zhu regretted such a thing, but it wasn’t a smart action at all.
That he was able to kill the messenger in the first place was equally their only solace and the worst of it all. The messenger wasn’t a high-level cultivator – Zhu couldn’t have possibly hurt them otherwise, lacking even an iota of cultivation talent – so their status within the sect would be minimal, and maybe this was something that they could hide for a little while.
Still…
A sect was a sect. A complex statement if there ever was one. Zhu’s entire family would be implicated! His aunts and uncles, his cousins, the elders…
Zhu shuddered. While he hardly cared about those people, his father…
“I’ll turn myself in!”
In response, his father finally shook himself from his stupor, even as their guest expelled their last breath.
“That won’t work! The moment they know-”
His father’s words slurred so subtly that Zhu didn’t realize what was happening until the world around him grew completely silent.
DING!
[Host Level Up!]
LV.0 » LV.1
Qi +1/hr
+1 Point
[Tutorial Activated!]
Congratulations to the host for activating [Heaven System]!
Zhu shivered from head to toe, unable to block out the subtle feeling of something fleeting through his flesh, from head to toe. The sensation it wrought through his body was beyond uncomfortable, even moreso than watching the eery frozen figure of his father.
To maintain karmic consistency and conserve the balance between cultivators and heaven, the host has received the gift of the [Heaven System] in obeisance to the law of tribulation!
“Wait, what is-”
The soft masculine monotone of the voice in his head continued without pause, throwing Zhu for a loop and leaving no time to alleviate his confusion. His vision blurred, and his own thought processes seemed to freeze. It was as if there was nothing in this world except for the mysterious voice.
Cultivators defy the heavens, and the heavens are only trampled in return! Kill or disable talented cultivators to earn Karma! Earn Karma to level up! Level up to gain points! Use points to increase your cultivation, and kill more cultivators!
The last thing he expected after committing murder was a blessing from the heavens. Zhu did, however, expect to lose some of his sanity.
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The shuffling of feet down the hall, the bangs and clacks of training weapons from the fields, to his father’s valiant tone – it all came back at once.
“-that he’s dead, it’ll be too late. This guest…” his father shuddered, “this was my guest, son. I will deal with this. This wasn’t the right time to have you sit in on a meeting.”
“It wasn’t right.” Zhu said, but he caught himself when his father sadly shook his head. “No, he wasn’t right!”
“Zhu-”
“Those were blatant threats! What were we supposed to do, sit there dumb and happy as they ask for anything they want?! In exchange for what? Who could possibly-”
“Don’t speak ill of the dead.” His father, looking much older now than he did a mere hour ago, kicked the body over and spoke candidly. “In either case, this is much more urgent than the matter of the mines.”
Ashamed, Zhu let the matter drop. This was his fault, and so much more than that, it was an incredible failure on his part.
He had never performed well. Not once in his life to this point had Zhu found something he was even remotely good at. He couldn’t cultivate no matter how many and varied the resources his father had once thrown at him, he didn’t have the right attitude for study, he had miserably failed an apprenticeship to the family blacksmith, he would be lucky to even lock eyes with a girl, and now he had killed someone.
It was the first meeting he had ever attended with his father, who until this point, had still been scratching his head for ideas. It seemed, unfortunately, that Zhu was without a scrap of talent in anything.
Eventually, his father came to a decision. “This involves more than you and me. For now, go to your room and pack your things. Better safe than sorry, no?”
It went without saying that his father was removing him from the scene before he found a way to make things even worse.
Zhu didn’t dally, and quickly left the spacious – and now bloodied – office behind, the knife left within and the blood on his hands wiped onto the robes of the deceased. He sped past servants that ducked away and lowered their heads, stared down one young servant that stared unabashed at the blood that decorated the cuff of his sleeve, and quickly entered through a door thick enough to hide weapons inside of.
Zhu, naturally, had no talent with weapons. It was simply a big door, fitted to an even larger bedroom.
It couldn’t be said that he didn’t live a life of luxury, but few liked him within the family. It was in part due to his inability, in part due to their jealousy, and in part due to the attitude he had cultivated over the years. With each passing day, Zhu lost more and more of his patience, that little bit of hope that still simmered within slowly spluttered, and he himself became ever more irate.
Zhu only lived nowadays for his father’s sake. It could be said that, if not for him, Zhu couldn’t have lived to adulthood in anything resembling their society. Disregard the pampering. Zhu had no siblings, knew nothing of the mother that birthed him and disappeared – probably dead, knowing the dangers of the outside world – and similarly, his father lacked anyone else he cared for.
But he had gone and messed that up, hadn’t he? It was an easy decision to make, the man he killed an irritatingly perfect representation of a smug bastard with all the cards in his hands, and he couldn’t entirely say that he regretted it or that the action itself wasn’t satisfying, but…
Oi, what was he thinking…?
“I am a complete fool!”
He kicked the polished wood of his bed frame, but all it did was damage his sandals and bruise his toes.
“Useless!”
He rampaged through the room, picking up anything that could be moved, tearing them apart when he could, throwing them, breaking them, and in his efforts, he damaged several expensive sculptures, detailed paintings and a fine silk robe.
Within moments, he was already bearing strained muscles and heavy breathing.
“Idiot!”
“Moron!”
“Clown!”
He slumped onto his bed, which had more or less survived his idiocy intact. He could pack his things another time, and in the first place, doing such a thing felt pointless. Trivial. His fate was inescapable.
In some way, it was inevitable that Zhu would eventually flounder into committing a mistake like this. He just hadn’t thought it would be so catastrophic.
What was he supposed to do, exactly? Was there something? Anything?
[Reminder!]
Host has available Point(s). Allocate them within 23 hours, or points will be distributed randomly.
Zhu grumbled, having nearly forgotten about his hallucinations in the wake of the dead emissary and the constant worries of his future.
A large part of his mind calmed at the opportunity to slip away from the thoughts of what he just done.
“What do I do with points?”
Thankfully, the system – or his hallucinations, and not the first he’d ever had – answered appropriately.
[Attributes]
LEVEL 1 [Karma: 1/5]
Cultivation: Mortal [+] Cost: 1 Pure Qi
Cultivation Talent: 0 [+] Cost: 1 Point
Comprehension: 0 [+] Cost: 1 Point
Spirit Energy: 0/0 | 0/Hr
Pure Qi: 1/1 | 1/Hr
Point(s): 1
Time to live: 23Hrs
“Cultivation, huh?”
Zhu’s eyes stuck to the first option.
He had long since despised the cultivators in his family. His father was a lone exception. Zhu had long since lost his childhood dreams of becoming an all-powerful immortal, as all children did eventually. Most, however, could at least strengthen themselves to the point of feeling safe within their own family grounds. Zhu couldn’t say the same.
As soon as those of his generation began cultivating and learning martial arts, as soon as Zhu himself found himself unable to, his life had been radically different.
Zhu was, to the shock and complex feelings of those around him, completely and utterly talentless. It wasn’t that he would require more resources and time to cultivate his body, to enhance his strength, his vitality, his lifespan, to hone the mystical energies of the world and eventually become an immortal soaring the starry skies beyond…
He shook his head and massaged his scalp, careful not to make a mess of the luxurious straight hair that fell to his back. His mind was still a mess.
The problem was that he didn’t have any talent at all. He was incapable of absorbing the slightest dregs of spiritual energy into his body. Once, when his father had been particularly desperate, he had even spent a full month of their entire family’s income on a spiritual pill from a wandering alchemist that was said to help even those with the lowest talents make a small breakthrough into the path of cultivation.
It didn’t work. In fact, the pill couldn’t even dissolve within his body. It was completely intact when it came out the other end. It had been more than a bit embarrassing. It was in that moment, before Zhu had even reached his tenth birthday, that he was fully disregarded by the clan, and his father’s once harsh nature suddenly flipped on its head.
His father stopped waking him up in the morning, stopped training him in the martial way, and stopped teaching him about the outside world. He saw much less of his father after that, but their interactions were much more friendly, and anything he asked for, he would receive.
The rest of his family…
It was tempting to give in to the hallucination, and his finger did in fact drift toward the word Talent with a mind of its own, but while a number of negative things might be said about Zhu, he was not insane. He wouldn’t give into these strange feelings and illusions, and yet…
He needed fresh air. He needed to escape this building, at least for the moment. He was too troubled to rest and too muddled to pack his things.