Orin stumbled on a stone and fell, the herbs scattering along the village pathway. He struggled to retain his balance and fell at two men that were coming towards his direction.
"Hey...are you okay?" One of the men asked.
But the other one seemed to know Orin even better, he quickly pulled his friend away as he realised who Orin was. "Hey! Get away from that boy! That's the boy without a spirit vein!"
His friend seemed to be more compassionate, but he still obeyed his companion, gently pulling away from Orin.
"How dare you touch us!" The first man roared and kicked Orin's stomach.
Orin retched and fell to the floor, reeling in pain. He was already weak from the overworking. Everyone else had left the orphanage, Jet had been adopted by the duke's family, Tyger by a noble family, and every one else had a nice life going ahead of them...but not him.
He hadn't left the orphanage, he had nowhere to go. The orphanage had suddenly changed too, no longer the kind and caring people that they used to be, he had been turned into a worker...no, a slave. He worked tirelessly, and with little food. It seems like the only reason they ever treated them well in the first place is as a result of what they could gain, the favor's that they would get when the children got adopted.
But what else could they gain from Orin? He was useless. He wasn't their family, he had never been and will never be.
Orin groaned as the man stomped on him, then again, and again, and again. He picked a stick and was about to thrash the boy even more, but his friend held him back.
"It's enough, he didn't commit a crime." The man stared at his friend, then back at Orin, he kicked Orin once more, them he threw the stick away, walking away.
"You are lucky today, pray you never come across me again." With that, he walked away.
Orin struggled to catch his breath, his face was bruised, and warm blood was flowing freely. He turned on the floor, trying to reduce the pain, all to no avail.
His eyes caught the herbs, and he realised he was in an even worse predicament when he got back to the orphanage. What was he to tell them? They wouldn't listen, he would be beaten badly this time.
After a few minutes, he struggled to his feet, amidst pains and groans. He picked up the herbs slowly—the ones that were still manageable.
He wiped the blood off his face as he picked up one last herb. He stood upright and started away, limping.
"You forgot this one."
Orin heard a voice sound behind him, his heart skipped a beat, was he about to receive another beating? What did he ever do to these people? It was starting to get annoying.
Orin turned around, only to see an old man with a herb in his hand, staring at him, a small grin on his face.
Orin took a deep breath. "Have you come to hit me too?"
The old man shook his head. "Far from that, son. I am too old for youthful things."
Orin was breathing heavily, and his side's ached with every breath, he was barely standing straight.
"Here, take your herbs." The old man said, throwing the herbs over to Orin. Orin caught the herb, then he put it into his basket and continued walking away.
"How about I read your future? The old man said, you must be curious about that... everyone is."
Orin stopped. "I don't have a future."
The old man giggled, then he started walking towards Orin. "That's crazy, everyone does."
In a moment, the old man had caught up to Orin, he took the boy's palm, raising it up.
Orin groaned slightly at the pain that ensued with the sudden movement of his hand.
The old man placed his palm on Orin's forehead, with one hand still holding onto Orin's palm, he closed his eye.
Orin was expressionless as he felt the man's wrinkled hand go over his face, smearing the blood even more on his face, Orin was starting to get annoyed and irritated. Just when he couldn't take it anymore, the old man pulled away, a stunned expression on his face.
He stared at Orin for a while, then he stared at the blood on his hand, slowly, he brought it up to his face, smelled it, and then... tasted it.
Orin's face contorted in anger, this old man was busy exhibiting cannibalistic tendencies right here. And what's that look on his face? Satisfaction? He thinks it's sweet? He thinks my blood is sweet!?
Orin had had enough of these people, he was about to lash out at the old man, but the old man spoke immediately.
"What do you think you are...!" Orin was about to scream but the old man cut him off.
"You...how is that possible?" The old man looked stunned, staring at Orin.
Orin was starting to calm down now, he knew exactly what was happening. To read someone's future, you had to get a hold of their spirit vein energy. But Orin didn't possess a spirit vein, so reading his future was impossible.
"Your spirit vein is crippled...?"
Orin took a deep breath. "I told you I didn't have a future." Then he started walking away.
However, the old man wasn't done. "Wait, kiddo! The old man walked briskly towards Orin. "Your future is uncertain, you are lucky! Unlike most who already have a predetermined path, you have been given a chance to forge a path for yourself!"
Orin was uninterested. "Without a spirit vein? The only part I can possibly forge is this bush path right here."
The old man paused, then he blocked Orin. "Your Spirit Vein in crippled, but it's not entirely dead, it can be resurrected, it just needs something powerful enough.
Orin was still not interested. "And what could that possibly be?"
"Forbidden Arts." The old man said.
Orin paused, he suddenly got mixed feelings. He knew that forbidden Arts had a whole crazy lot of backlash and side effects that came with them, however, maybe...just maybe, he was going to take the risk.
The old man shattered his little hopes immediately. "The last remaining Forbidden Arts in our realm was confiscated by the Five Heavenly Families who reside in the heavens.
In other words, this meant, you are never going to find a forbidden art.