Chapter 05
The Man Bound In Chains
Jon's mind was a chaotic mess of curses and frantic thoughts as he clung to the side of the building. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he chanted internally, a mantra of despair. The door was no longer an option; the window, his chosen route of escape, now seemed like a vertical highway to hell.
His situation was the stuff of nightmares—literally. There he was, butt naked, scaling the side of a cultivator sect's tower like a low-budget Spider-Man, his bare skin against the rough wood. How humiliating, Jon thought, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips at the absurdity of his predicament. This was, without a doubt, the worst scenario he could have imagined.
Below, Liang Shen and Zhen Xi's voices rose in a din of demands and incredulity, slicing through Jon's attempts to strategize. "Come back here!" Liang Shen's voice boomed again, tinged with a mix of anger and bewilderment.
What do you mean, 'come back', you fucker? So you can sacrifice me? Are you mental? Jon retorted silently, his fear of looking down paralyzing any thought of descent. His only solace was in feigning ignorance, repeating "Huh?" every time Liang Shen addressed him, buying precious time to think.
His fingers ached as he gripped the wooden facade, the adrenaline rush doing little to quell the terror of his acrophobia. Every shout from the window above felt like a bell tolling his impending doom, hastening the arrival of others who might haul him back to a fate worse than a naked escapade on the sect's walls.
The options were slim and grim. Jumping was out of the question; the ground was a distant death sentence. Climbing back up was equally untenable, a direct return to his captors' clutches. His only choice was to keep moving sideways, hoping against hope to find a ledge, a balcony, or any architectural feature that could offer a respite or a hiding spot.
The barrage of shouts dwindled until only one voice remained, the man named Liang Shen, who now watched Jon with a tender, mocking smile, as if the earlier display of anger had been a mere performance. "Proceed as you want," he said, his voice dripping with condescension. "There is no route of escape anyway. You are in one of the deepest parts of the sect, surrounded by our seniors, who will have no trouble catching you wherever you go. So, why don't you just give up?"
Jon’s grip on the building's side tightened, his anger flaring at the taunt. The man was clearly mocking him, savoring the perceived inevitability of Jon’s capture. Yet, Jon couldn’t deny the truth in his words. Even if he managed to reach the ground, he was ensnared in the bowels of the sect, a lamb amidst wolves.
But Jon's pride bristled at the cultivator's smugness. To needle Liang Shen further, he replied with a deliberately obtuse, "Hah?" watching as the man's forced calm crumbled, his face reddening once more.
"You son of a whore," Liang Shen hissed, the smile falling away to reveal a snarl. "I know you can understand me. I'll ask to personally slit your throat when the moment comes."
Jon, undeterred and more amused than afraid, echoed, "Huh?" His feigned ignorance was a small, petty revenge against the cultivator's arrogance.
Silence followed, Liang Shen's frustration palpable even from above. Jon, seizing the moment, continued his precarious descent, his body moving with a cautious rhythm born of necessity and defiance.
Then, as fate would have it, Jon’s slowly roving eyes caught sight of another window just below, a potential passage that stirred a spark of hope in his chest. As he reached for it, Liang Shen’s voice shattered the silence, "Hey, no! Don't go in there!"
Looking up, Jon flashed a bright, provocative smile at Liang Shen, his eyes twinkling with mischief and satisfaction. His acute vision caught the cultivator biting his lip in frustration.
With a last glance at the fuming Liang Shen, Jon whipped out his middle finger in a grand "fuck you" flourish and swung himself into the newfound opening, disappearing from view.
"What was that?! You insulted me, didn't you? You Insulted me?!" Liang Chen kept screaming.
What a diva, Jon thought as he shattered the metal window with surprising ease while ignoring the hysteric man, he tumbled into a new room, his senses immediately on high alert. The space was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of mold and neglect. His eyes quickly adjusted, scanning his surroundings for immediate threats or opportunities.
That's when he spotted him: a man bound tightly, immobilized in a manner that was excessively thorough, with ropes and chains constraining every limb, a heavy boulder strapped to his back, rendering him as helpless as Tai Lung in "Kung Fu Panda." Jon couldn’t help but draw the parallel, even in his precarious situation.
The man's wide eyes met Jon’s, shock and confusion painting his features. His gaze traveled up and down Jon's naked form, prompting a swift, embarrassed reaction from Jon, who covered his privates with his hands and chuckled nervously.
"Haha...ha, hey there, big guy. Don't mind me, just...hanging out," Jon managed to say, standing awkwardly, feeling absurdly like a stripper.
The man, still in disbelief, struggled against his bonds, his eyes asking the questions his mouth couldn’t. Jon, now somewhat resigned to his nudity and the bizarre turn of events, gave a resigned smile and shrugged, as if to say, Long story.
He assessed the bound man before him, considering the implications of his captivity. The logical leap was swift in his mind: if this man was a prisoner of the sect, then perhaps he was an adversary to them as well. And in the twisted logic of enemy alliances, that made him a potential ally to Jon.
As Jon stepped closer, the man’s eyes widened in alarm, and he began to protest through the gag in his mouth, his muffled sounds a mix of fear and confusion.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Holding up a hand in a calming gesture, Jon tried to reassure him. "Hey, hey, buddy, I'm not weird, I promise," he said, an awkward chuckle escaping him. "I was just as surprised as you. They made me sleep against my will, and next thing I know, I was naked in a room. I'm a victim too."
The man seemed to relax slightly, although his eyes still darted nervously. Jon, now just a step away, whispered soothingly, "Shh, let me take this off of you." He reached for the gag, gently pulling at the bindings.
As he did so, Jon realized how bizarre and potentially incriminating his words might sound out of context.
With a firm tug, Jon removed the gag, and the man immediately began to retch, expelling whatever had been forced into his throat. Jon recoiled in horror as he realized just how deep the gag had been inserted, a brutal and invasive method that spoke volumes of the sect's cruelty. Man, these cultivators have some serious issues, Jon thought.
After the man finished coughing and catching his breath, he looked up at Jon with wary eyes. "And who might you be... kind sir?"
"I'm Jon, Jon Lee," Jon replied, trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy in the bizarre situation.
"Jon... Li? I have never heard of a family named 'Jon' before..." The man sounded puzzled, his brow furrowing in confusion.
"No, Jon's my first name, Lee's the last name. You know, like...okay nevermind," Jon waved it off, feeling a bit absurd having to explain the conventions of his own world here.
"How strange..." the man murmured, his expression thoughtful.
"Yeah, I'm not from around," Jon admitted, glancing towards the door, his senses sharpened for any sign of incoming danger. He quickly turned back to the man, urgency lacing his voice. "Listen, I don't have much time. I just have one question: why are you here?"
The man’s expression turned reflective, and a shadow of sorrow crossed his face. "Four years ago, I—"
Jon swiftly cut him off. "Whoa, whoa, listen man, sorry, no time for long backstories. Are you an enemy of the Sun Moon Sect?"
The man’s eyes hardened, and his voice carried a primal rage as he answered, "They are my sworn enemies."
A smile spread across Jon’s face. "My man," he said, feeling a kinship with the stranger born of their mutual enmity towards the sect. Without further ado, he set about freeing the man from his binds, his enhanced strength allowing him to break the chains with surprising ease.
The ropes required more precision than brute strength, Jon’s hands moved with purpose, unraveling the complex network binding the man. The meticulousness of the binds struck him as both impressive and disturbing. That's some fifty shades shit right there, he thought with a grimace. Phew, these guys are real freaks. Kinky bastards.
As he worked, the man looked at him, confusion etched on his face. "What are you doing?" he asked, as if the answer wasn't blatantly obvious.
"Getting you out of here, obviously," Jon replied without missing a beat, his fingers deftly untying a knot.
"...Why?" The man's question was loaded with a resignation that gave Jon pause.
Jon stopped and looked at him, puzzled. "Do you not wanna get out of here?" he asked, genuinely surprised by the man’s demeanor.
The man lowered his head, his voice tinged with despair. "There is no use... I have lost my purpose as a warrior. I—"
Jon cut him off, not out of indifference but practicality. "Yeah, yeah, you'll tell me about your life story later. Let's get out of here first. Surely, you know a way to do so, right?"
The man seemed taken aback by Jon's brisk manner but then nodded slowly, a flicker of resolve lighting his eyes. "...Fine."
"Attaboy," Jon said with a nod, satisfied with the response.
Once the last of the bindings fell away, the man stood, towering over the 194cm Jon. He stretched, his joints cracking loudly in the silent room, his stature impressive and his physique bearing the marks of battle. Yup, that's a cultivator for you, Jon mused internally, noting the man's build and the scars that laced his skin.
He was tall and slender, but clearly, he used to be much more imposing since he still had some muscle remaining despite the clear signs of malnutrition. If he wasn't just dangling in BDSM purgatory, this guy could easily play Kratos in the next God of War game, Jon thought.
Turning to the newly freed man, Jon asked, "So, big guy, what's the plan here? How do we get out of this place?"
The man fixed Jon with a somber gaze, then exhaled a heavy sigh of relief and gratitude. "Thank you for setting me free, friend," he said, his voice resonating with a deep timbre. "My name is Huo Zheng, from Shaolin." He brought his fist to an open palm, bowing slightly to Jon in a traditional gesture of respect.
Jon, somewhat taken aback by the formal introduction and the man's dignified bearing, nodded in acknowledgment. "Nice to meet you, Huo Zheng. Now, about escaping this hellhole—any ideas?" Jon's voice was eager, his mind already racing with plans and possibilities, hoping that Huo Zheng's knowledge of the sect and its stronghold could provide them with a much-needed advantage.
Huo Zheng pondered for a moment, his expression grave, before stating flatly, "It would be impossible."
Jon's patience frayed at the edges. After a brief silence, he replied with a hint of frustration, "...Listen, bud, we're really, and I mean, really, short on time here. The guy from above saw me entering here, and frankly, I'm surprised they haven't already barged in. I don't know this place, I'm naked, and very traumatized by the day's events. So, please, don't tell me this kind of shit. Do you know this place or not?"
Huo Zheng, unperturbed by Jon's outburst, responded calmly, "I know escape routes, but... my dantian has been shattered, and from what I see, you are at the 'Dawn stage'. We will be noticed before we can go far."
Jon, latching onto the sliver of hope, pressed on, "Okay, okay, but you DO know some escape routes then, right? That's the important part here."
The man sighed, a look of resignation crossing his features. "Have you not listened to what I said, or have you only retained what you wanted to hear?"
"Yeah, I'm hearing you loud and clear. Low cultivation, slim chances of success, yadda yadda yadda. Now, about those escape routes," Jon persisted, unwilling to let the opportunity slip through his fingers. "How do we reach them, can you lead the way?"
Huo Zheng observed Jon intently before finally nodding. "...Very well, I shall lead the way. That is the least I can do for my benefactor," he declared, his tone carrying a hint of resigned determination.
Jon's spirits lifted. "There we go! So, where to?" he asked, ready to follow Huo Zheng’s lead.
Huo Zheng pointed towards the door. "Can you open this door?" he inquired, his eyes assessing the sturdy barrier.
"Yes, sir!" Jon responded with a mix of eagerness and bravado. He approached the door and broke it open as quietly as he could manage.
"Now what?" Jon whispered, peering through the cracked doorway, alert for any sign of guards or disciples.
Huo Zheng, stepping closer, laid out his plan, his voice low and serious. "We must navigate through the shadows and avoid the main corridors at all costs. The sect's stronghold is vast, with many hidden passages known only to a few. I am familiar with some of these routes from my time as a captive. Our escape will be perilous and will require us to traverse through the Lesser Hall of Ordeals, a place used for punishing errant disciples."
Jon listened intently, nodding. Huo Zheng continued, "The Lesser Hall of Ordeals is perilous, filled with traps and guards, but it’s also the least expected route for an escape. It’s our best chance to avoid the main force of the sect."
"The key lies in timing and stealth. We must move quickly yet cautiously, using the cover of darkness to our advantage. Once past the Lesser Hall, we’ll reach the outer gardens. They are less guarded at night, but we must still be wary of patrolling disciples."
Huo Zheng paused, his expression grim. "It’s a risky path, fraught with danger at every turn. If we are caught, we won't get another chance. Are you prepared for this?"
Jon met Huo Zheng's gaze, a fierce determination in his eyes. "Lead the way, Huo Zheng. I've had enough of being a prisoner today."