Tears were already staining Yu’s face by the time she closed the door to her bedchamber, gasping for breath. She sat on the edge of her small bed and put her face in her hands, feeling like her heart would burst from her chest it was beating so hard. Her body could not support sprinting for more than a few minutes, which was, pathetically, only long enough to cross the palace grounds.

“I can’t believe I said that,” she mumbled into her hands between wheezes.

“Milady, can I help you prepare for bed?” The words of her maid came through the closed door.

Yu wiped her face with the back of her hands. “Yes. Come in, Feng Jie,” she called.

Yu sank back onto the bed, reliving the awfulness that was simply another day in her cursed life.

***

Staring up at the ceiling from her bed, Yu revisited the fight at the barn. She had had them beaten. She knew she had.

Yu wasn’t lying to her father. She was a better fighter. She knew all thirty-two dual jian forms better than anyone in the palace save her “teacher,” who wasn’t allowed to actively teach her. She just had to secretly watch him and memorize everything as he practiced the forms and taught his real students.

No, the problem wasn’t skill. Yu was just too slow, too small, too feeble. She let out a sigh and whispered to herself, “Too crippled.”

Then she whispered another word and pressed her intent and will into the world, “Sign.”

The God Sign that appeared continued to prove her correct.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ {Corrupted} ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Name: Yu

Clan: Fenghuang

Clan Rank: Patriarch’s Child

Age: 13

Meridians: 0/{Corrupted}

Qi Type: {Corrupted}

Qi Affinity: {Corrupted}

Cultivation Stage: None

Body: 2 {Corrupted}* | Mind: {Corrupted} | Spirit: {Corrupted}*

Martial Forms: Tai Chi: (Initiate), Kung Fu: (Novice)

Weapon Capabilities: Jian: (Initiate), Dual Jian: (Novice), Whip: (Novice), Bow: (Novice), Staff: (Novice), Spear: (Novice)

Qi Skills:

Aura: None

Mana: None

Ether: None

Status: {Corrupted}, * = Reserved

Honors: None

Titles: The Corrupted

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ {Corrupted} ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Without even looking at the words, Yu felt it was easy to see how much of an aberration she was. Her God Sign had no color. None. It was totally transparent with simple black writing floating before her.

Everyone had a color to show their affinity because everyone who was a cultivator had an affinity. Except her. She went through the Declaration Ceremony like all the others, but it failed somehow, and she ended up… corrupted.

The only bright spot in Yu’s God Sign was that her martial forms and weapons were able to progress. Sure, training in them was nearly impossible with her body – and the fact that she could die from even a superficial injury was a permanent fear in her heart. But she persevered. Her father called it foolishness, her mother stubbornness, and her brother unnecessary.

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Despite it all, Yu proudly saw the Initiate rank next to her two most proficient skills. The pain, the trips to the healers, the abuse from others.

It was all proven worthwhile when the gods rewarded her hard work and suffering.

That was why she never gave into the fear. The despair. She felt it. All the time, she felt it. But it did not control her.

Because, despite her corruption, she knew the gods were watching her. And with that belief, she snuck around the training yards, learning without permission. She studied more than anyone else, practiced more than anyone else. Her memory meant that she only had to read anything once. Hear or see anything once. And most of all, unlike the mundanes in the clan, Yu could fight. The gods had said so.

Using their gift to humanity, the Sign, the gods ranked skills by how proficient they felt you were at them. After some research and practice, a warrior could gain a skill and become a Novice. Then after extensive practice and usually sparring and competitions, the gods decided whether you had gained sufficient skill to rank you up to Initiate, which basically means they see you as having a modicum of competence.

Following that were Adept, Expert, Master, and Grandmaster. Although the specifics of each were a mystery to her, Yu knew the gods increased the difficulty and expertise required for each rank.

And as with all things the gods gave to their world, the God Sign told cultivators how the gods felt they had progressed, granting the opportunity to change, improve, and advance. At least, that was how it worked with martial skills; obviously, Yu had no idea how Qi skills functioned or grew. The books she had access to and the classes she was able to listen in on hadn’t provided much.

In martial skills alone, Yu’s father and mother had shared that they were both Experts in at least two forms and weapons, and Adepts in many more. From the moment she could understand the world, Yu had wanted to be strong and skilled like them, defying what her family and Sign told her was possible. She was determined to make her family proud and be of use to the clan.

Yu had denied the truth that she could barely walk when other children could run. She refused to stop when she couldn’t breathe after finally managing to move at faster than a walk. When her father reminded her of her weakness and her mother told her to stop, Yu did it anyway, away from their eyes.

She ignored the naysayers when she learned to control her body with the precision necessary to use a martial art or, gods forbid, a weapon. Her parents ordered the clan teachers to refuse her, but she watched and learned from any and all of them anyway.

For thirteen years, Yu persevered, both with and without her parents’ knowledge. After every fall during a run, she got back up, determined to strengthen her body. After every collapse from overexertion practicing a form, Yu returned to her position and exemplified the perfect placement of arms and legs, head and torso. Every time her sword fell from her exhausted and torn up hand, she picked the wooden blade back up and tried again, remembering the swirling movements, slashes, and stabs flawlessly.

Yu had never forgotten anything about martial skills. She felt she might even have an innate insight and perception into them, not finding learning them as challenging as others she had seemed to.

Yes, she would become strong enough to make her family proud. If only her body wasn’t in the way.

Placing her hand on the center of her chest, Yu felt for the indent that marked her corruption. Nobody would tell her how she got it, but when she looked in the mirror, she saw the perfect pyramid-shaped hollow the size of an adult’s thumbnail in the center of her thin bony chest.

She reached up and brought a lock of her long straight hair in front of her face. In the dim light, she could barely see the variation of colors, showing off once again how much of a freak she was.

Everyone had some visual clue as to their affinity, at least if it was strong enough. For some it was evident in their hair. For others it could be subtly shown by their nail color. The Fenghuang family was known for their eyes matching the color of their affinities. In fact, the strongest members of her family had eyes that glowed when they channeled their Qi, alerting those around them to their power and prestige. That being said, after years of cultivators intermingling, such attributes were far from definitive. A cultivator with blue hair might have a water affinity, or perhaps their great grandfather had, and instead of inheriting the affinity, all the child received was the coloration.

For Yu, every strand of her hair was a different dull color. It was a grotesque mishmash of disorganized faded tones and drew even further attention to the dishonor she brought her clan by even existing. She was given regular reminders of her flaws, he hair color serving as a lightning rod for ridicule and shaming.

That was the downside of her memory. She remembered everything. Every word, look, and gesture that was aimed at her. The sneers of her brothers as they encouraged others. Every time she was shoved, punched, or kicked, she remembered. She remembered with pristine clarity the pain of every single event in her life. And most of those moments had been of shame, pain, and failure.

But Yu could still fight. The gods said she could. She had proven them right by knocking Yaozu out. Yu knew she could have beaten all three of those fools at the barn. From what she had seen during the practices she had spied on, they were average at best in both skill and Qi. And that was a generous description. She was better, and could have stood above them looking down, instead of the other way around.

If only…

That was the phrase that echoed through her mind every night before she fell asleep. If only.

That night those words were accompanied by her father’s, “You are too weak.”

Her tears soaked the pillow as she fell asleep. Just before sleep took her, she swore, as she had done nearly every night, that she would prove herself. She would become strong enough to stand beside her family.

Yet her mind flashed to the blow to her face and the taste of blood in her mouth, and reminded her, as it always did, of her weakness. That day’s events had been a raw, stinging admonition that – no matter how hard she worked, or how proficient she became – it would never be enough.

Fenghuang Yu was corrupted, and nothing would ever change that.