The Three Realms are vast and incomprehensible, encompassing all things.
The Heavenly Realm, situated above, was the home of the Immortals and Bodhisattvas, Buddhas and Gods. Far beneath it was the Netherworld, where the souls of the dead were judged and punished by the Magistrates and Kings that reside in the eighteen levels Hell.
Sandwiched between them was the Earthly Realm, the home of humans, beasts, demons and the many mortal races.
All three realms, united by a singular, universal energy, stand separately from one another. In their lifetimes, few mortals would ever attain the rights to cross into another realm.
...
Sylkwood was a small town on the outskirts of a large city. Most of the people living here were simple farmers, with little desire to do anything else in their lives. However, even in a backwater town like this, a few individuals would challenge the norm.
One such individual could be seen, at the crack of dawn, kneeling before two graves. In one hand, he held a half-eaten baked potato. In the other, he held a small box and a sealed scroll.
His hair was tied up, shoulder-length, and fiery, his eyebrows bushy but sharp, and his features both stoic and soft. His eyes shone with the light of the moon, but reflected on the surface of tranquil water.
The rest of him was entirely average, save for a small birthmark on the back of his right hand that closely resembled a fishhook. He knelt in that old, rickety cemetery, slowly eating his potato, awaiting sunrise.
The townspeople were all early risers, and they had grown accustomed to the sight of him there every morning.
"There's Little Yellow again," said a bent old man with a cane.
"Not so little anymore, is he," said another with a chicken in his clutches.
"Oh, to have a son so filial. A total waste of air and space for sure, but filial to a fault."
A middle-aged man passing by scoffed, "He almost ate every last potato in the village. Where does his appetite come from?"
A younger woman giggled, "Yesterday, I saw him trying to sweet talk a pig into coming close to the fence so he could grab it up."
"I thought I smelled roast pork coming from the old house. That explains it."
Suddenly, the man with the chicken in his arms froze up and became filled with despair. "That explains why I can't find Niblet! No! No!"
He was utterly devastated, and needed immediate consoling. When he had recovered enough, he cursed the boy called Little Yellow who was still kneeling at the two graves.
Little Yellow, whose name was Jin Huang, ignored the ruckus and commotion of the townspeople as Sylkwood slowly came to life. He focused only on the graves in front of him, looking melancholic.
"Mother, Father, today is my birthday. It is also the 17th one. That means that today, I can finally open these gifts you left me."
As the sun properly rose, he shifted into a sitting position and finished his potato as his stomach grumbled for more. Placing the scroll on the floor between the graves, he opened the small box.
In it, he found a pendant attached to a leather necklace. It was in the shape of a key, but made of stone. Due to how rough and unkempt it was, it did not seem likely that it could open anything.
"I will wear it forever and ever, until I die. Or until I find someone willing to accept it as payment for food."
The townspeople within earshot didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Surely his parents were rolling in their graves now.
Putting the necklace on, he tossed the box aside and then went for the scroll. The morning sun above him illuminated the world, the clear sky and white clouds looming silently.
Cool air rushed through the world, bringing liveliness to the town and to everywhere the light touched.
As he undid the seal and opened the scroll, a wave of grey slowly crept into the sky above, unnoticed at first.
Jin Huang looked down at the contents of the scroll, reading aloud.
"Dear son, we know that it was selfish of us to ask you to stay by our sides until your 17th birthday, but after raising you for almost ten years, your mother and I could not bear to tell you these things until you were old enough. Thankfully, you are a most filial son, and would surely listen to our instructions. On the off chance that you didn't, Mr. Yang with the four cows and one female goat was told to whip you mercilessly. That was your mother's idea."
Somewhere nearby, an aged man shouted through missing teeth with a wobbly, raised fist, "And I would have done it too, you whippersnapper!"
Jin Huang continued, "If you truly have waited, then you have made your mother and I proud once again. Truthfully, we did not know how we would ever bring this topic up, which is why I was glad that your mother and I got sick when we did. Now, we can just do it this way, which is far easier on all of us."
"The truth is, my son... you are not actually our son."
An eavesdropping person chortled, "No shit! Get to the juicy stuff!"
Jin Huang shot that person a look, and then decided to stop reading out loud.
'You arrived on our doorstep with only two items. One of them was the stone key pendant. It was placed in the crib we found you in. Your mother made her own leather strips so that you could wear it. She said she hopes it fits you now that you're older.'
'As for the other item, it is actually this scroll itself. We never knew what its purpose was, so we just used it to write this message. Perhaps, by some strange twist of fate, this was actually its intended purpose.'
Jin Huang stopped and took a breath. He had suspected it a long time now, but he could never have been sure. Now he knew that the people that raised him were not his birth parents. He now had no idea where he came from.
He continued. 'We are sure you have questions, but sadly, we do not have the answers. There was no message with you. No explanation. You arrived, and that was it. We raised you as best as we could, even though you ate us out of house and home. When we got sick, you decided to take care of us. I know that we will die soon, just as all the others have died to this strange sickness. However, we know that you are special.'
'You have always been special. You will live on.'
Jin Huang looked down at the scroll, surprised to see there was still content on it.
'Our last wish for you, Little Huang, is that you will live the life you wish to live. Accomplish whatever you want to accomplish. You are free now. Also, your mother said to never forget to wash your underwear and to bathe regularly. Love you always, Mom and Dad.'
Jin Huang sighed, about to roll up the scroll when he noticed something on the bottom right corner. There was a tiny image that was flashing on the paper, confusing him greatly.
As he inspected it closely, he realized that it was an image of a tiny flame. Before he could do anything else, the little image burst to life, igniting the scroll. At the same time, the sky above was shrouded in gloom as thunderous echoes filled the atmosphere.
Large, dark clouds appeared out of nowhere, their insides flashing with angry, blinding light.
The townspeople were scared out of their minds, running this way and that, shrieking and calling out to their loved ones.
Jin Huang watched as the scroll burned away, the flame giving off no heat, and then gazed up at the sudden storm. Just then, as he started to think about returning home, one of the clouds opened up, and a bolt of lightning found its way to him, striking him directly.
In a blinding flash, he was gone. Vanished from his position in the cemetery, leaving behind sizzling, scorched earth and a puff of smoke.