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墨書 Inktalez
Zhao Yang soared through the clouds, traveling three thousand miles until he reached the edge of the Sky-Connecting Forest, home to the Demon Clan. The area was desolate, barren, and devoid of life.
With a sigh, Zhao Yang understood why the Demon Empress sought to seize Zhongzhou. If he were in her position, he might have waged war as well. His acquaintance with the Demon Empress was too brief for him to grasp her true intentions.
The Demon Clan had long lived in dire conditions, plagued by toxic swamps that spread throughout the forest. If one contracted a strange illness, recovery was nearly impossible, often leading to death. Cultivators did not achieve their prowess overnight; even those at high levels could fall ill or be poisoned. Most demon beasts were weak and became prey for stronger ones.
In the world of cultivation, beings were not immune to all ailments simply because they practiced cultivation. Without war and slaughter, one would not necessarily escape death; under natural laws, cultivators could perish from various causes.
Though nothing had happened recently, Zhao Yang suddenly understood many things upon witnessing this scene.
Many matters were known yet unavoidable.
Perhaps the concepts of good and evil, right and wrong in the world were similar.
This was Zhao Yang's path: understanding all living beings.
At that moment, if the Demon Clan were to invade Zhongzhou, chaos would surely ensue, leading to utter defeat for Zhongzhou.
He did not know what caused the Demon Empress to abandon her plans to attack Zhongzhou. However, regardless of the circumstances, Zhao Yang remained loyal to humanity. As he had said before, every race had its good and bad; one could not condemn an entire group based on a few individuals.
The Spirit Pearl in his chest emitted a gentle warmth. Following its guidance, Zhao Yang discovered some unfamiliar Spiritual Fruits—green and oval-shaped—exuding a fragrant aroma. Yet around them lay no vegetation, only heaps of white bones scattered about.
This was a rare Toxic Spirit Fruit, which Zhao Yang recognized immediately. He decided to collect it; although he did not intend to consume it now, it might prove useful later.
Returning to Zhongzhou, Zhao Yang felt both anticipation and uncertainty in his heart, sensing that something monumental would eventually occur.
Hearing cries from below, he paused in mid-air. Below lay a village surrounded by ruins and littered with corpses; several cottages were still emitting black smoke. Clearly, a massacre had taken place here not long ago.
Zhao Yang traced the source of the cries to a dry well where a small girl clung desperately to its edge, trying to climb out. Her hands and face were smeared with blood and mud. Despite her tears, her expression bore determination and an indomitable spirit.
It was evident that the girl was exhausted. Her forehead was marked with dirt and blood as well as sweat. She trembled all over like a white crane shivering in the cold wind. Gritting her teeth, she let tears flow down her cheeks into her mouth while softly sobbing. Her wrists pressed against the well's edge turned pale as her hands grew bruised; she lacked the strength to pull herself out. Time and again she leaned over in an attempt to escape but fell back down each time.
Even so, the little girl still wouldn't let go. She clung to a protruding stone inside the dry well, emitting helpless whimpers, and then climbed up again, as if falling down would mean her death.
She had been thrown into the dry well by her mother just before she died.
Her mother had only told her two words before passing—"Stay alive."
So, the little girl waited in the dark and deep well for the robbers who were slaughtering the villagers outside to leave. It took a long time before she dared to come out. The inner walls of the well were damp with mud, and she didn’t know how long it took her to climb to the mouth of the well.
But she was so tired. She didn’t know how long she had been hanging on the edge of the well; her wrists seemed numb. Yet she still didn’t want to give up because her mother had told her two words before dying: "Stay alive."
Just then, she saw Zhao Yang, a big brother standing in front of her with an expressionless face. She was startled and twitched, falling down from the edge of the well with a thud. Fear gripped her; her wrist was pinned behind her back and snapped with a crack. Still, the little girl remained silent, covering her mouth with one hand to stifle her cries. She lay at the bottom of the well, not uttering a word, gazing at the white light above—the place where she wanted to shout for that person to spare her life because her mother wanted her to live.
After a long time, no one spoke from above the well, nor did anyone look inside. Only then did the little girl dare to breathe a sigh of relief and softly cry out once. Yes, she could only cry once before closing her mouth again. One of her hands was broken, and her foot was sprained. So, she used one hand to grip the rocks inside the well while embedding her elbow into a crevice to support herself as she tried to climb up.
But her strength was too small. Suddenly, she fell again without any scream. Looking at another rock, she attempted to climb up using the same method but fell again after just two grips, accompanied by a gasp of fright.
The little girl stared in shock at a pair of glowing green eyes peering from within a rock crevice and choked out, "Little snake, please don’t bite me."
She was afraid of snakes; she was just an ordinary farmer's child. But she had to muster courage to face the snake in the crevice.
The snake did not respond. The little girl felt herself nearing exhaustion; if she fainted, she would surely die in the well. She had to get up—she must get up.
Just like before, one hand gripped a rock crevice while her other elbow wedged into another gap as she struggled upward. When passing by the rock crevice where the snake was, she dared not look inside and continued climbing slowly step by step.
Suddenly, pain shot through her leg; the green-eyed snake in the crevice had bitten her after all. The little girl’s lips moved as tears streamed down her face. Ignoring the snake on her leg, she looked up toward the mouth of the well and climbed even more determinedly.
When she reached the top of the well again, her blood-soaked hands were already turning purple. Yet she remained silent; however, her entire leg had turned black, her complexion darkened, and her eyes became grayish-white. Still, she continued to crawl out of the well.
As she emerged from its mouth, she saw that big brother who had been watching her all along again. The little girl seemed very disappointed because she still couldn’t survive; robbers had killed everyone in the village. Her mother had told her that there are good people and bad people, but robbers are always robbers—if they caught you, no one could survive.
The little girl loved listening to stories. Since she was three years old, she had listened to various tales told by the storyteller in the village. She had also heard that there were immortals in this world who could cultivate and possess various divine powers—who could fly into the sky without working or being bullied or fearing death or bad people.
The little girl often prayed, hoping that one day she would meet an Old Immortal who would teach her various spells. She wanted to help many people, to ensure her parents lived a good life, and to restore the sight of Grandfather Wang, the Village Head. She dreamed of chasing the birds in the sky with her older brother.
But now, she was about to die.
Her eyes had turned gray, and she glanced at Zhao Yang. With her bloodied hands, she struggled to crawl to his feet and weakly asked, "Why?"
Why did you kill my parents?
Why did you slaughter the entire village?
Why didn’t you give me a chance to live?
Why can’t we control our own destinies?
Why? What is the reason?
These were the questions of a little girl. Zhao Yang heard them clearly. In the past, he had asked the heavens countless times why fate was so unfair to him.
Now, seeing this dying little girl stirred something within him. She was so young yet capable of asking such profound questions.
He didn’t know how many others faced war and insurmountable natural disasters with similar grief and anger. But this little girl had encountered him; perhaps this was her fate.
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