Lin Feng limped back to the orphanage, the basket of herbs dragging behind him. His ribs ached from the kicks, and blood crusted on his face.
The old wooden gate creaked as he pushed it open. Inside, the matron stood waiting, arms crossed, her thin lips pressed into a scowl. Two older boys, former orphans turned enforcers, lounged nearby, cracking their knuckles."Where's the rest?" the matron snapped, eyeing the half-empty basket.
Lin Feng kept his head down. "I got attacked. They scattered."She stepped closer, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look up. "Attacked? Or too weak to carry them? Useless trash." She shoved him back, and he stumbled, dropping the basket.
The herbs spilled onto the dirt.The boys moved in without a word. One grabbed his arms, pinning them behind his back. The other swung a fist into his stomach. Lin Feng doubled over, gasping, but they didn't stop. A kick landed on his side, then another to his legs. He hit the ground, curling up as blows rained down.
The matron watched, her face blank."Enough," she said after a minute. The boys stepped back, breathing hard. She crouched next to Lin Feng, her voice cold. "No food tonight. Get back to the forest. Bring double the herbs by morning, or you'll wish you were dead."
They hauled him up and shoved him toward the gate. He staggered out, pain shooting through his body with every step. The basket hung limp in his hand as he headed back down the village path, then into the forest.
He walked slowly, several thoughts crossing his mind. He had been bullied, beaten, battered. But somehow, his mind felt calm, too calm.
The trees closed in around him, their shadows stretching long in the fading light. He stopped near a patch of herbs, dropping to his knees. His hands shook as he started picking, stuffing them into the basket. His breathing was steady but shallow, each inhale stinging his bruised ribs. He worked in silence, the only sound his fingers brushing the leaves.
Then he heard it—running water. He could really use that.
He paused, tilting his head. The sound was cool, soothing and refreshing, pulling him forward. He stood, basket in hand, and walked toward it.
The trees parted, revealing a waterfall crashing into a rocky pool below. Mist rose from the base, and the roar filled his ears. He stepped closer, careful not to slip on the wet stones near the edge. The water churned, white and wild. He stared at it, his chest tightening.
A thought hit him—jump. End it. No more beatings, no more hunger, no more being nothing. Tears welled up, spilling down his cheeks. His life flashed in his mind: the ritual failure, Jet's smirk, Tyger's fading smile, the kicks, the matron's sneer. Worthless. That's all he was. He bent his knees, ready to leap.
His foot shifted forward, muscles tensing.
Just as he was about to leap, a voice cut through the roar of the water, sharp and raspy. "It'd be dumb to just die like that, don't you think?
Lin Feng froze, his breath catching in his throat.
Lin Feng turned around, what he saw shocked him. It was a man, but not your normal looking man. This person looked dead, his body was dried up...no, his body was drying up.
Lin Feng stepped backwards, edging closer to the waterfall unwillingly. He had initially wanted to end his life, but now, he was scared of his safety.
How ironic.
Lin Feng stared at the man, fear gripping him tight.
The man blabbered. "Yes, yes, I know what I must look like now, but don't stare at me that way."
Lin Feng looked him over. He was dressed in a black cloak, one that seemed to be fading away. "Who are you?"
Lin Feng managed to ask.
The man took a deep breath. "No one. Just your average cultivator who got too ambitious and decided to test forbidden arts."
Lin Feng paused. "Forbidden Arts?"
Isn't that what he just heard had been confiscated by the heavenly families?
The man raised his hand, bringing it out of the cloak, and to Lin Feng's greatest surprise, dust was pouring out of his hand, it was drying up even quicker.
"Oh my, oh my... The man sighed. Seems like I am running out of time."
Lin Feng stared at the man wordlessly. The cloaked man took a step forward, carrying dust with him and Lin Feng's heart skipped a bit.
He let out a shout as he slipped on the wet stones, he struggled to regain his balance, but it was too late, he was falling already.
Lin Feng's foot slipped on the wet stones, and he flailed, arms swinging as he tipped backward toward the waterfall. His stomach dropped, the roar of the water deafening. He was going to fall.
The cloaked man moved fast—faster than his decaying body should've allowed. His bony hand shot out, grabbing Lin Feng's wrist with a grip like iron. Dust poured from his sleeve, scattering into the mist, but he held firm. With a grunt, he yanked Lin Feng back from the edge, pulling him onto solid ground. Lin Feng stumbled, landing hard on his knees, chest heaving.
"Don't go dying on me yet," the man rasped, his voice rough but steady. He let go of Lin Feng's wrist, and more dust trickled from his hand, mixing with the dirt.
Lin Feng stared up at him, heart pounding. The man's face was half-hidden under the hood, but his skin looked like cracked leather, flaking away in patches. His eyes were sunken, glowing faintly with a sickly yellow light. Lin Feng scrambled back a step, clutching the basket of herbs to his chest.
"What do you want?" Lin Feng asked, voice shaky.
The man coughed, a dry, hacking sound, and a puff of ash escaped his mouth. "Want? Nothing. I'm done for. But you—" He pointed a trembling finger at Lin Feng. "You're a blank slate. No spirit vein, no fate. Perfect."
Lin Feng frowned, still catching his breath. "Perfect for what?"
The man didn't answer right away. He reached into his cloak with his crumbling hand and pulled out a small, jagged object—a jade pendant, dark green and etched with faint, swirling runes. It dangled from a thin cord, swaying in the air. The sight of it made Lin Feng's skin prickle, like the air around it was heavier.
"This," the man said, holding it up. "Took it from the heavens. Forbidden arts, sealed inside. Messed me up good—look at me now." He gestured at his decaying body, a bitter laugh escaping him. "But you? You've got nothing to lose."
Lin Feng shook his head, edging back. "I don't want it. Keep your cursed junk."
The man's eyes narrowed. "Not a choice, kid." He lunged forward, faster than before, and grabbed Lin Feng's arm again. Lin Feng tried to pull away, but the man's strength was unnatural. With his free hand, he forced the pendant into Lin Feng's palm, closing Lin Feng's fingers around it. The jade felt cold, then burned hot, searing into his skin.
"Let go!" Lin Feng shouted, thrashing. He swung a fist at the man, but it hit nothing solid—his arm sank into a cloud of dust. The man's body was breaking apart now, cracks spreading across his chest and face.
"Take it and live," the man said, his voice fading. "Forge your path—or die like me." His grip loosened as his hand dissolved into ash, the cloak collapsing in a heap. A gust of wind from the waterfall caught the dust, scattering it into the air. In seconds, he was gone, nothing left but a pile of gray powder on the ground.
Lin Feng stared at the spot, breathing hard. The pendant pulsed in his hand, warm against his skin. He opened his fingers and looked at it, the runes glowing faintly. His head spun. He didn't ask for this.
The pendant suddenly grew very hot again, burning into his skin. Lin Feng screamed as he flung his arms, trying to throw it away, however, nothing came out of his hand. The heat suddenly disappeared and it was replaced by a soothing cool.
Lin Feng slowly brought his hand up, staring at it.
That's when he saw it, a tattoo of the jade pendant was seared into his hand.