"It's a rather strange feeling, to sit down in front of a blank sheet of paper, pick up a pen and start to write, now if one has a task to complete, a letter to finish or even some ledgers to maintain some form of direction or end goal is still present in mind. I am not that fortunate...."
"This is a hot pile of tripe," I sighed, crumpling up the sheet in front of me and tossing it into the evergrowing pile of failures.
Few of them reached even the scanty length I painstakingly managed to reach just moments ago, all of them equally as poor in quality.
Words...alluded me. I had little time to myself in the day and these unsuccessful attempts at recounting my 'life's tales', all twenty-one years of them have been frustrating, to say the least.
With a gentle push I scooted out of my chair, wincing at the screech the legs made as they scraped across the rough stone floor, and stood up, stretching out my back with a loud 'pop'.
I groaned in relief as hours of tension snapped away with that one motion and directed my gaze lazily to the wall, more specifically the tiny window carved into it, taking in the view.
Below my "quarters", or rather a bit more specifically, far-far below my quarters, a group of guards marched sloppily in loose columns, thoroughly failing in their daily display of alleged discipline.
Indeed the usefulness of such an activity eluded me. I sighed yet again and moved a bit closer, bringing my face as close to the open air as I could manage, trying my best to take in a deep breath of fresh air and I breathed in the sweet, cool, smokey, ashey...…..
"COUGH COUGH GASP SPLUTTER."
I fell back onto the floor, writhing around trying to retch out the vestiges of the poisonous miasma from my lungs. They must have been burning trash again today.
It was just a shame they must do it under my window.
As I lay on the floor, trying to regain my breath just a little bit, I heard footsteps off in the distance, getting closer, and closer and closer, until they ended just behind my head and I heard the tap tapping of something wooden against the metal bars.
I sighed and turned over and up, coming face to face with a stern looking middle-aged man with a cane in his hand.
His sharp eyebrows raised as he observed the state of my cell through the bars, taking in both my disheveled form, as well the stack of waste paper building up in the corner.
A scowl crosses his once handsome face.
"You have been wasting time and resources Nephew. For your own sake I hope the translations are complete."
I grunted and headed over to my desk, picking up an old dusty tome as well as a stack of fresh scrolls, the latter being the translated works of the former.
I trudged back over to the cell door and dropped both of them off through the bars into his hands.
"It's all there Uncle." I said, the last word having a tinge of venom in it.
If he noticed the slight change, however, he showed no reaction as he smirked and said, "Well done, it's like I keep telling your cousin time and time again, even cripples have their uses.
Although I'm normally not one to rise to provocations, this particular insult made me clench my teeth and tighten my hands into fists, something that didn't go unnoticed and only caused his grin to deepen.
"Now, now Lei Ni, it's bad enough that you can't cultivate, we don't want you to be insubordinate as well do we?"
His words only incensed me further but.... He wasn't wrong. Despite my rage I forced myself to calm down and lowered my bloodshot eyes to my feet.
This act of humility must have amused him because he let out a light chuckle and threw a book at me, sending me reeling as I found myself on the floor for the second time in as many minutes with a loud "oomph."
My teeth ground away at each other as I tried to hold my tongue back from a scathing response to his physicality, one that would undoubtedly earn me a severe beating.
"Your cousin's tournament is next week. He'll need this technique to beat that bastard from the Tang Clan, and I'll need that translation to help him do that. Don't disappoint us again."
I looked up at him in surprise. A week? That was nowhere close to enough time and he knew it.
I voiced out my misgivings, only to be met with a dangerous look, one that a person would associate with a predator rather than a blood relative.
A light blue aura bubbled around his arms as he projected forward his hand astrally, fingers gripping my throat, squeezing ever so tight with every breath.
"Are you refusing me, nephew?" he asked in a soft voice.
I flapped my arms around, trying to form a cross, signalling to him that I wasn't. He loosened his fingers, causing his blue construct to ease up the tension as well, allowing some air into my lungs as I squeaked out, "I'll do it, I'll do it, just let go."
Just as fast as it appeared, the construct withdrew back to the man as he smiled with a tinge of cruel satisfaction in his eyes, taking in my spluttering gasping form kneeling in front of him, separated by metal bars.
"That wasn't so hard now was it?" He said.
"..."
"Now have it ready by next week or I promise that what just happened will seem like a vacation compared to what I'll do to you if my darling Lie Wan loses his fight."
He walked off, leaving me there with the dusty old text in front of me.
For a good minute I didn't move, I just lay there, my life running through my head, every decision, every choice made, both by me and others, that led me to this hell of his design.
Eventually I got up, dragged myself to the wall and used its help to rest in a sitting position. I blankly stared at the ceiling, my eyes moving around the room, taking the small, cramped, bare cell in, until my gaze finally rested upon the book as I tried to recognize what had been written.
Most of the continent spoke the Common dialect, a universal language that had been standardized by the incumbent Wu dynasty seven hundred years prior, but this.....this was older, much older.
Most probably a language that had been considered extinct by many until revival efforts popularised it merely decades prior. Although archival work was considered below most cultivators, most preferring to dedicate any extra time to practice and meditation, my...…altered constitution afforded me time to pursue knowledge most considered useless, until I ended up here of course.
I sighed, the irony of the situation not lost on me as I tried my best to figure out the best way to approach this herculean task.
"Ouch." I winced as the sharp edges of the book's metal bound spine rubbed against my finger, slicing it open effortlessly, inundating its cover with a few drops of my blood.
I waved my digit around, sticking it in my mouth to stem the flow as I got up to refer to past notes on the aforementioned language. As I turned around to pick the book up, something truly strange caught my eye.
Wasn't the book supposed to be covered in my blood?
The book had reverted to its previous, well, not pristine, but unblemished, if not worn out form, no trace of any crimson substance staining its surface.
It wasn't that large or heavy of a tome and now that I had a chance to examine it, it was in fact rather thin for a supposed tournament winning martial arts technique.
"Huh, curious, strange even." I muttered as I picked it up, dusting the cover as I set it on my desk.
I laid the needed notes down beside the book and sat down in front of it; although my ribs protested as I lowered myself on the chair, the 'generous' deadline provided to me forced me to work through my pain or suffer the risk of further consequences.
A sigh escaped my lips as I began the thankless job of poring over line after line, page after page of ancient text, painstakingly translating each word, doing my best to capture the essence of the original text while still sticking to the author's own words as much as I could, given the circumstances.
I kept working even as the scent of fresh paper and stale ink permeated my cell, mixing with the smoky smell of burnt trash to create a truly unique 'fragrance.'
Indeed, archivists did an important job even if it's one that isn't much desired by cultivators nor mortals, which probably explains why I'm the only one of note in the entirety of Seawave City.
Not for the first time I pondered whether my knowledge is a blessing or a curse, at least if I hadn't possessed it I'd have been allowed to die after my Crippling.
Compared to this cage I find myself confined to I could probably argue that the release death offers might have been the sweeter option; still considering that I lacked both the strength, and quite honestly, the courage to do anything to remedy this particular issue, the only thing I could really do was keep my head down and do as I was told.
Nevertheless I digress.
I kept working on the text, techniques coming together, pathways becoming clearer, and concepts making themselves known until a sharp pain behind my eye stabbed into my brain.
I winced and massaged the offending appendage, hoping to relieve the cramp that was stabbing into the only organ of real 'value' in my body, as I used the other eye to take a look outside the window.
Night was about to fall, enveloping my dark cell in shadows, stealing the scant light remaining from it as well.
I had been working for hours now, once again falling victim to the fact that once I got started on any task, nothing short of physical fatigue could get me to separate myself from it (my earlier failures at letter writing notwithstanding), a habit bound to eventually get me in trouble.
Those unaware of their surroundings rarely make it far in this dog-eat-dog world of ours.
I was about to put the book down, ready to call it a day when all of a sudden I realised that despite making decent headway, I hadn't even checked to see what the title of the technique even was.
I picked up my notes yet again and word by word, far more fluently this time, wrote out the title onto a separate piece of paper and admired my handiwork, "Turtle God Sutra," it read. I looked, looked again and looked a little bit more and the name was so....it was so.
So boring.
For a tome as quirky as this one, absorbing my blood like some sort of glorified soul weapon one would expect a slightly more intimidating name, maybe something heaven defying that would let me burst out of my captivity and take revenge for years of abuse.
Alas I doubt it was meant to be.
I let out a defeated sigh, the curiosity bubbling up within me fizzing out flat as I threw myself onto my bed with a loud 'thump' as a cloud of dust choked me up for what must have been the umpteenth time today.
I had barely gotten through a tenth of the book today, Heavens knew whether or not the remaining days would be enough to finish up my task.
Worries kept me up at night, but even they couldn't stop me from ultimately drifting off to sleep.
The clanging of a metal rod on my cell's bars could, however, rouse me from my slumber as a Lei Clan servant came to drop off my breakfast.
"Rise and shine 'Young Master'," the sneering servant said, his lips curling up as if the words tasted bitter in his mouth. "Your breakfast is ready." he said as he held out a tray filled with rice gruel mixed with something I'd rather not know.
"Morning, eunuch." I replied politely, slowly getting out of bed and walking over.
Most servants in the Lei Clan compounds, especially those serving close to the main house and the prisons tended to be eunuchs for reasons that honestly never made sense to me.
Nevertheless, reminding them of their missing 'appendages' never failed to anger the aforementioned.
This one too was no exception as my comment caused the color in his face to drain, replaced by a deep angry red, his ears blowing metaphorical steam as he attempted to hold his tongue and deny me the satisfaction of a response.
"It seems as if the 'Young Master' must have had his fill last night considering how energetic he is this early in the morning, perhaps he must still be full and I should return his food so as to avoid any waste."
The polite smile I had on my face faltered slightly as the implications of going hungry for the rest of the day ran through my mind.
Yes the gruel wasn't exactly gourmet, but it kept me full and gave me the energy to get through the day, unsavory as it may be, the eunuch had the power to ruin the rest of my day.
With that in mind I plastered the smile back onto my face.
"Surely brother is mistaken, after all, I'm a growing young man and need all the sustenance I can get, you wouldn't deny me that would you?"
Upon hearing my words the eunuch turned his nose up and sneered even more deeply, if that were even possible, clearly recognizing surrender when he heard it.
"Looks like the little dog recognizes his place."
I grit my teeth but said nothing. He took this as an invitation to further press his advantage with a cruel grin.
"What's wrong? Not going to bark anymore?
Being manhandled and humiliated by my Uncle, a genuine Golden-Core powerhouse was honestly bad enough, but to have even someone as weak and powerless as a common house servant do the same was almost unbearable.
I had to clench my fists to avoid giving away any emotions as I did my best to calmly take the bowl of gruel from him.
He handed it over, avoiding my fingers, in an almost disgusted manner, as if I were diseased. I ignored the very obvious insult and began slurping up the gruel.
The grease in it coated my tongue and throat, bits of mystery meat sticking to my teeth. It was bland, tasteless, but ultimately, warm and nourishing, a combination I desperately needed to be strong enough to ward off the upcoming winter chill.
The eunuch watched me eat with a neutral expression on his face, the need to insult and demean me evidently fulfilled.
He collected the bowl from me and walked off. I sighed softly, something which I found myself to be doing a lot more often these days and slowly stood up, languidly stretching my body out, not unlike a feline as I walked over to my tiny window.
I was greeted by the sight of a handsome spear-wielding youth going through a variety of motions, practicing his martial arts.
He was fluid, firm , light and yet each stab or thrust had a certain weight behind it. He...was my cousin, the prodigy that my Uncle doted over.
At the tender age of twenty he had reached the peak stage of Body Tempering, something that my Clan had yet to ever see.
Just the sight of him filled me with an ugly emotion, neither anger nor hate but more like jealousy and envy.
Yes, it wasn't his fault that I was locked up in here, the crimes of the father should not be passed on to the son.
Yet.
I wanted what he had. I wanted his talent, I wanted his resources, I wanted his good loo… hmmm actually nevermind my own face was handsome enough, or so I had been told.
Regardless of that, I still wanted what he had.
I wanted to be successful, build a legacy for myself.
Ultimately I was still a cripple, doomed to be overshadowed by those who benefited from the works I translated. Speaking of which.
The thought of translation brought my mind back to the Turtle God Sutra lying on my desk, forgotten in the morning's excitement. Indeed...there was still work left to be done.