Chapter 1: The Draft
Setting: Li Village (Border of the Human Domain)
The sun was a merciless white eye staring down at the cracked yellow earth. In the Great Desolation, even the wind felt like the breath of a furnace.
Li Wuji sat on the weathered threshold of his family's mud-brick hut, whittling a piece of Ironwood. At eighteen, he was thin—too thin. His ribs pressed against his patched gray tunic, a testament to the famine that had gripped the borderlands for three years. But his hands were steady, and his eyes held a quiet, burning intelligence that seemed out of place among the simple farmers of Li Village.
Inside the hut, a ragged coughing fit broke the silence.
Wuji immediately dropped the wood and hurried inside. The room smelled of bitter medicinal herbs and despair.
"Water..." his father, Old Man Li, rasped, clutching his chest.
Wuji lifted a chipped bowl to his father's cracked lips. His father's legs lay twisted and useless under a thin blanket, the result of a mining accident five years ago that had crushed both his lower body and the family's future.
"Here, Pa," Wuji whispered.
His mother sat by the bed, mending a fishing net with trembling hands. In the corner, twelve-year-old Li Fan huddled against the wall, his eyes wide with a fear he didn't fully understand.
"Brother," Li Fan whispered. "The ground... it's shaking."
Wuji froze. He placed a hand on the dirt floor.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
It wasn't thunder. It was the rhythm of war.
"Stay inside," Wuji ordered, his voice low and sharp. "Mom, don't let Fan'er come out."
He stepped out into the blinding glare. The village square was dissolving into chaos. Chickens scattered in a flurry of feathers, and elders scrambled to bolt flimsy wooden doors.
On the horizon, a black tide surged over the yellow hills.
"The Black Steel Cavalry," Wuji muttered, his blood turning to ice.
They rode Scaled Nightmares—monstrous beasts with obsidian scales and burning red eyes, breathing steam that smelled of sulfur. The riders were clad in heavy black armor that drank the sunlight. These were the Emperor's elite, the harbingers of death.
They tore through the village perimeter without slowing, crushing fences and gardens under heavy hooves.
"Imperial Decree!"
The lead officer reigned in his screeching beast in the center of the square. Dust billowed out, choking the air. He removed his helmet, revealing a face scarred by fire. He held a golden scroll that pulsed with oppressive magical pressure.
"Citizens of Li Village! Come out! Those who hide will be burned alive!"
The threat hung heavy in the silence. A soldier lit a torch, the green magical fire crackling hungrily.
Slowly, doors creaked open. The Village Chief hobbled forward, bowing until his forehead touched the dust. "My Lord... we paid our taxes..."
"This is not about grain," the officer's voice boomed. "The Northern Barbarians have breached the defenses. The Emperor requires a tribute of blood."
He unrolled the scroll with a sharp snap. "By order of the War Ministry: Every household must provide one able-bodied male. Immediate departure."
A wail went up from the crowd.
"One per household?" Auntie Liu, the baker, fell to her knees, grabbing the officer's stirrup. "My husband is dead! My son is sixteen! Please, take the cow! Take the house!"
The officer kicked her hand away. "Sixteen is old enough to hold a spear. If you have no male, pay fifty gold taels. If you cannot pay, we burn the home."
Fifty gold taels. An impossible fortune.
Soldiers dismounted, chains rattling at their belts. They moved efficiently, dragging weeping boys from their mothers' arms. Wuji watched as his neighbor, Er-Gou, was clubbed down and shackled.
"Next!" The officer consulted a ledger. "Li Family! Head of household, Li Da-Shan!"
Wuji's heart stopped.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. His mother stood in the doorway, pale as a ghost. Behind her, his crippled father was trying to drag himself off the bed, weeping.
"I'll go..." his father groaned, falling onto the dirt floor. "I'll go..."
"You can't walk, Pa," Wuji said softly. He looked at little Li Fan, who was shaking violently.
If Wuji didn't go, they would take Li Fan. Or they would burn the hut with his parents inside.
There was no choice.
"Wuji, no!" his mother screamed as he stepped forward.
"Take care of Fan'er," Wuji said, peeling her fingers off his sleeve. He forced a smile. "I'll be fine."
He walked toward the officer, keeping his head low. "I am Li Wuji. My father is crippled. My brother is a child. I will fulfill the quota."
The officer looked at Wuji's thin frame, his visible ribs. He sneered. "Fodder. You won't last three days. But you have a pulse."
A soldier grabbed Wuji, spinning him around. Cold iron shackles snapped onto his wrists, biting into the skin. He was shoved into the line of weeping conscripts.
Clang! Clang!
The rhythmic sound of a hammer striking iron rang out, cutting through the weeping.
The officer turned, annoyed. "Who dares work while I speak?"
From the blacksmith's hut at the edge of the square, a burly figure emerged. He wiped soot from his face with a leather apron.
It was Old Huo.
Old Huo was forty years old, a bachelor who had lived in Li Village his whole life. He had no wife, no children, and no family. He lived alone with his fire and his iron. He was built like a boulder, with arms thicker than Wuji's thighs.
He walked past the soldiers, ignoring their drawn swords, and stopped in front of the officer.
"I'm volunteering," Huo rumbled, his voice rough as gravel.
The square went silent. Nobody volunteered for the Penal Battalion.
"You want to die, old man?" the officer scoffed.
Old Huo spat on the ground. "I'm single. No wife to cry for me. No son to carry my name. My lineage ends when I die. What does it matter where I fall?"
He turned slowly, his dark eyes locking onto Li Wuji, who stood shivering in the line.
"But that boy..." Huo pointed a blackened finger at Wuji. "I promised his father. I said if the war ever came, I'd watch him."
Wuji's eyes widened. "Uncle Huo... go back! You're safe! You have a life here!"
Old Huo ignored him. He crossed his massive arms and looked up at the officer. "The boy is smart, but he's weak. He won't survive the march. But I'm strong. I've swung a hammer for thirty years. I'm worth three of these brats."
"You want to trade places?" the officer asked, amused.
"No," Huo shook his head. "Take me too. You get an extra soldier. Free of charge."
The officer laughed, a harsh barking sound. "A buy-one-get-one deal? The Empire never refuses free meat. Chain him up!"
"Uncle Huo, you're crazy!" Wuji cried out as soldiers pulled the blacksmith's arms back. The shackles barely closed around Huo's thick wrists. "Why would you do this?"
Old Huo didn't resist. He walked over and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Wuji. He smelled of iron, coal, and sweat—a comforting, familiar smell.
"Crazy?" Huo grunted, lowering his voice. "Maybe. But look at you, kid. You're shaking."
"I... I'm scared," Wuji admitted, tears spilling over. "We're going to the Death Zone."
"Good. Fear keeps you alive," Huo said. He looked back at the village, at Wuji's parents watching in horror. "I have no one here, Wuji. My house is empty. If I stay, I just pound iron until I die of old age."
He nudged Wuji with his shoulder. "But if we are together in the army... together should be good. A sheep alone gets eaten. Two ghosts walking together? Maybe we can scare the devil."
"Enough talking!" The officer cracked his whip. "Move out! Anyone who falls behind gets the lash!"
The line of prisoners lurched forward. The chains dragged in the dust, singing a mournful song.
Wuji stumbled, but a strong hand grabbed his elbow, holding him up.
"Steady," Old Huo muttered. "Left foot. Right foot. Don't look back."
Wuji grit his teeth. He heard Li Fan screaming his name in the distance, but he forced himself to look forward, toward the dark storm clouds on the northern horizon.
I will survive, Wuji swore, the iron cutting into his wrists. I will bring Uncle Huo home.
They marched into the dust, leaving their lives behind.