Chapter 1- In the Care of a Hateful God

“Where is my son? It is time for him to die.”

 

“Madam?!” The old nanny stood between the frail boy and his mother. Her withered hands clenched the hem of her faded dress. Screams of dying men and chopping blades filled the hallway, loud and close. “He’s just had one of his fits. The battle-”

 

“There is no battle.” The Madam’s eyes were red, her pupils barely pinpricks. “The Hongs managed to hire some Lay Brothers, which means someone in the Inner Court gave their approval. Our family is dead.”

 

“The guards-” The nanny slowly retreated towards the carved wooden bed. Madam lurched forward, the green brocade of her robe swaying madly in the yellow light of the oil lamps.

 

“The guards can’t last one move against cultivators. Steel sabers against flying swords- what could it be but a slaughter? The Hongs are slowed only by making sure they don’t miss anyone. Time for me to do my last maternal duty.”

 

“But the Young Master is so small. He’s sick. He’s no danger to them!”

 

“He’s the heir. Rip the weeds out by the roots. That’s what we did to the Fengs. It’s what everybody does. By the roots, so they don’t grow back.” Madam stumbled onto the nurse, who caught her awkwardly. Not seeing the dagger Madam stabbed into her heart. Just feeling the sudden pain, then nothing.

 

“Rip them up by the roots. Sorry Nursie, but I always thought you were a spy. It doesn’t matter if I’m wrong. They wouldn’t let you off anyway.” She giggled. “Ah, if only I could see their faces after their ‘victory.’” She sat on the bed next to her baby. Just six years old, but he looked younger. Disease had ruined his body before he had left her womb, and he hadn’t gotten better.

 

“Life has been Hell for you. You should have been born into a life of comfort, and haven’t known a day of it.” She pulled a grey pill from inside her sleeve. It reflected the light from the oil lamps with a soft metallic sheen.

 

“Here. Mother brought Baby a special pill. I’ll break it open for you, just a little. Into your mouth, yes Baby. Just suck on it. Just suck on it, and drift off on golden waves.” Her soft hand stroked the boy’s thin cheek. She murmured to him, half singing a prayer to ease him into the dark.

 

“I pray your next life will be peaceful. I pray that you will be healthy. I pray you never have another devil mother and demon father. I pray that you have no enemies. I pray-”

 

The door exploded off its hinges and crashed into the far wall, smashing oil lamps as it fell to the floor. The lamp oil spilled over the flagstones and carpets, spreading the fire. A spray of golden darts ripped through the room, burying themselves with dull thuds into the dead nurse and into the back of Madam. She fell across her baby, a little chuff of surprise as the air was knocked out of her. Then silence- the beautiful green brocade stained and ruined with blood.

 

“Check them!”

 

A rough man rushed in. The nurse was deader than dead, Madame’s eyes were already glassy and-

 

“I found the boy!”

 

“Finish him!”

 

“His mother already did.” There was foam pouring from the boy’s mouth. His eyes never blinked or moved, even as his mother died on top of him.

 

“Be sure.”

 

The man reached out with his knife but paused, hearing a rushing sound. Madame’s green brocade robe hissed into a roaring, white hot blaze. It caught on the bed sheets and raced for the heavy curtains. It wasn’t alone. The man looked back over at the fire on the floor. It was spreading wildly, bolting for the silk curtains and rushing up to the roof. He followed the trails of fire to big jars up in the rafters.

 

“Oh you spiteful bitch. RUN!”

 

He didn’t make it to the door before the house exploded in flames.

Nothing of the once elegant home could be salvaged after the fire. Serfs pulled the wreckage over to enormous many-legged garbage bins, which walked themselves to the dump and emptied themselves on the enormous piles. The serfs had explicit orders not to remove any bodies they might find. The Hongs felt the dump was exactly where those bones belonged.

A boy woke up in the trash. He couldn’t remember who he was or where he was, or why everything hurt. There was something round on the ground. He reached for it and saw that he only had a few fingers. He should have had more- he could see the bloody stumps where most were missing. His body was covered in blood and burns and everything was pure pain. The boy screamed. He screamed for a long time.

 

Once he had screamed his throat dry, the boy firmed up his guts and crawled off. He was so thirsty, he thought he would die. He had to find water somewhere. And he did. Stagnant and filthy in the ruins of an old clay pot.

 

Everything hurt. There were flies floating in that water. Bits of rotted cabbage too. It smelled diabolical. He wanted to vomit just looking at it. He hesitated, but he hadn’t seen any other water. It was vomit, or drink and keep it down. The boy teetered on the edge of the choice, and forced himself to drink. It was as disgusting as he expected. He had another mouthful. Everything hurt, but he was determined to live.

 

Days passed.

 

The boy lay on the ground, unaware that he was dying. Everything hurt. Everything always hurt. Doing anything hurt. His head, especially, hurt. He had a headache and everything went swirly when he tried to stand. But the boy had a treasure- a little black ball of soft metal that he could lick, and once he did that everything stopped hurting. He could just float in the warm waves.

 

His hand brushed idly over the trash covered ground, feeling the scraps of bone and bits of paper. His little hand swept right past the thin ring of bone that materialized right where his fingers should have been. Pinky, ring, middle, then the surviving index finger ran over the worn bone ring. The ring flipped itself onto the little finger and sank into the horribly thin flesh to merge with the bone below.

 

The boy didn’t notice. There wasn’t much left of him to notice. He had been spending more and more time lost on the warm waves. It was so much better than feeling everything his little body usually felt, and it meant he didn’t get hungry nearly so often.

 

From infinite chaos was born yin and yang. From yin and yang, the three qi were born, and from the three qi was born the five elements and from thence all of creation! And who was it that ordered the undifferentiated qi? It was the Old Master! Oh Child of Destiny! You have awoken me from mine ancient- hello?

 

There was an awkward pause.

 

Hello? Hey Junior, can you hear me? OOOIIIII! Child of Destiny, OOOOOIIIII!

 

The hallucinations had come. This one was odd, but they were always odd. The boy didn’t find it too bothersome. Better than when animals hunted him in trash heaps. Or when he tried to pee, or drink water, or do anything except lie quietly amongst the rotting trash.

 

There was a series of clapping sounds. They achieved nothing.

 

Alright. Let’s see what’s going on here, and why my starting budget was so… oh.

 

The author’s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

This is usually the point where I say that I’ve seen worse. That always cheers people up, knowing that some other bastard suffered more. But I haven’t. Condemned by the merciless Heavens, oppressed by cruel Fate, that’s normal, that’s fine. Fiancé left you, your clan got exterminated, someone stole your precious whatsit- all fine. Normal, even.

 

This is sick.

 

This is why I got such a high exchange rate- I’m going to dump everything I earned over two hundred years into this kid in a day. In ten minutes, even. I got screwed. Not as bad as this kid, but…

 

There was an ethereal sigh.

 

I’ll take it as an investment. And really, what’s one itsy bitsy intracranial hemorrhage? Practically nothing, amirite? Plenty left over to fix… to fix…

 

Can you please stop revealing new, horrifying, chronic conditions? You aren’t supposed to have all of them.

 

The boy drifted on the warm waves. He was feeling a bit nauseous now, but his magic treasure would make him feel all better again.

 

Sudden shift in brain chemistry… what are you licking? Hey kid, what the hell is that thing in your hand?

 

The boy gave it a long, wet, lick.

 

Don’t you lick that! Don’t! Don’t you lick that, you naughty boy! No! Bad! Drop it! I don’t care if you are six, don’t eat things you find in the trash! You still aren’t hearing me. DAMN IT!

 

Spending my savings here on what? A heaven defying cultivation method? Bestowing Nine Dragons Meridians? A natal sword? No! I’m spending it on draining some edema, coagulating the torn blancmange of your brain, knotting the macramé of your sheared axons and dendrites. Did you get your head kicked in? This wasn’t a one-time thing. In addition to everything else wrong with you, you have both CTE and boxer’s dementia. Were you a shaken baby or something? You are six years old. Malnourished, under developed and six.