February 4, 2023, late at night.
"By the way, isn't this year's Zhan Dou tournament a bit too brutal? A few years ago, wasn't killing among contestants prohibited? Are you planning something?"
An took a mooncake and ate it casually.
The man across from him calmly sipped warm black tea. His cup was made of jade, just like the small plates of snacks on the table.
He cleaned the mist from his square glasses with microfiber cloth from his pocket, then put it back on.
"This was all the Empress's decision."
"But someone must have whispered something."
Jianying and An exchanged glances. For some reason, the two never got along.
"Doesn't this make things easier for you?"
"Hmm, I don't know. Why do you think so?"
"Just a hunch."
"A hunch?"
"My hunches never miss."
"Wow, Jianying the genius of intuition. If your hunches are a hundred percent accurate, maybe you should retire from being a Hunter and become a fortune teller like the leader of the Indian Hunters."
Jianying didn't reply, only sipped another mouthful of warm, steaming black tea.
An took another mooncake and ate it with a pout.
"Hey, Jianying. What do you think about life? Are all lives equal?" An decided to bring up a random topic. He wanted to kill time while waiting for the tournament contestants to return with flags. But after two hours since the tournament began, no one had come back yet.
"Life?"
"Yes, are lives equal? Isn't that an interesting topic? Humans are always in conflict because they think they are the best. If lives truly held equal value, there would be no need for conflict—because they'd be no more valuable than a cockroach."
Jianying looked at An's face, wearing that sly grin of his that always seemed insincere no matter the angle.
"Are you talking about human life or all living beings?"
"Both."
"What's your definition of life?"
"Hmm… a spirit that has form and can die?"
The corner of Jianying's mouth twitched. "A spirit?"
"Yes, you know in this world, spirits can be summoned and contracted, right? Spirits can harm other spirits but can't damage inanimate objects because they don't have form. Unless that spirit has a vessel—like us humans. Or animals. Or plants."
"Basic knowledge."
"Basic knowledge."
"But souls and spirits are not the same." Jianying added, "A human soul and a spirit are two different things. A soul has behavior, desires, and intent. A spirit is merely like a vessel for the soul to carry out its will."
"So you're saying spirits are vessels for souls, and living beings are vessels for spirits?"
Jianying shook his head. "The soul and the spirit are similar. If we have to give them ideology, think of them like the brain and the heart. The soul is the brain, the spirit is the heart."
"Makes sense." An took another mooncake. "So? Are lives equal or not?"
"That depends on the soul they possess."
"Heh, so my life depends on the soul I have?"
"An, what makes humans assign value to a person? It's their intent, their actions, and their circumstances. A life is valued based on those three. Those three things create two measures: good and evil. Those who lean toward evil deserve justice, and those who lean toward good deserve reward. That is the value of life for each person."
An clapped while chewing the mooncake in his mouth.
Clap! Clap! Clap!
"As expected of the most brilliant man in this nation."
An then crossed his legs.
"But you know, Jianying. In my opinion, every life is equal. Intent, actions, and circumstances are only temporary and based on emotion. Without emotion, human life is no more valuable than a fly's. Isn't that right?"
"Yeah, maybe."
"It's us who give things their value. But behind it all, we are worthless. Just lumps of flesh that can think and move. What do you think would happen if humanity went extinct and not a single life remained on this earth?"
"You're gloomy, An. A monster imitating a human will never be a human." Jianying sipped the last of his tea.
An stared at him with wide, intense eyes.
Then he grinned broadly.
"You too, Jianying. You're no different from me. You're even gloomier than I am. Isn't that right, Chosen One?"
Setting his cup down, Jianying turned toward the mountains, where a fire now burned on the upper right side.
"Should we go check it out?" An asked, seeing the flames rising. The fire was large enough to be seen from afar.
Jianying shook his head. "Several senior academy students are lying in wait at various locations. They'll take action."
"Really?" An asked skeptically. "I'm certain something's happening there. Something entertaining."
***
Flames engulfed a ten-meter radius around Amon and the man in the black shirt. Their power was fairly even, though Amon was clearly being overwhelmed.
While the two exchanged blows, Reza and the three local swordsmen were struggling against four foreigners who proved to be far superior fighters.
Within minutes, the three swordsmen were down, their bodies covered in wounds—especially the men. The lone woman was forced into a kneeling position.
"Heh, too easy. The fighting ability of people here is pitiful. Just as expected from a country that's never seen a great war. They live peacefully like rats." The man named David wore a white button-up shirt and black pants. He was a muscular man with a short haircut.
He had just defeated the short-haired swordsman from Reza's team with his bare hands, while the opponent's sword now stood buried in the ground.
"Don't take too long, you three." David walked toward the sword, intending to deliver the finishing blow.
Meanwhile, the female swordsman sat slumped against a tree, blood at her mouth. She clutched her swollen belly from the strike of a man in a black t-shirt and jeans. His face hidden behind a mask, he looked at her with a lecherous gaze.
"It's over here. Their woman is safe. Since the boss is taking his time, I'll take my reward first." This man was Tuffy. Without a shred of feeling, his hands began to grope the woman's body.
"No! Stay away!"
"Relax, you'll join your friends after we've had our fun."
"No!!"
"Ah Liong!..." The long-haired man, his tied hair now loose, lay on the ground after being beaten by a tall, muscular blond man with a flat-top haircut.
"Strago is done." The man named Strago struck the long-haired swordsman's head, knocking him unconscious. Blood trickled from the wound.
Meanwhile, Reza lay on the ground in bad shape as his team. Beaten all over, not just bruised but bleeding. He leaned against a tree, listening to the cries of his teammates whom he'd only met that night.
"Already giving up, kid? You should've learned when we beat you up at the square earlier not to mess with us. We're mercenaries who kill for fun, to escape boredom. You're very unlucky tonight, boy. I'll erase that misfortune for you."
The massive black man raised his hand high, preparing to deliver a blow strong enough to shatter a boulder. His name was Robin, his curly hair typical of the Red Earth Continent.
"This is my fault. I'm so unlucky. Just kill me." Reza looked up with resigned eyes at the incoming fist.
BAM!
The impact echoed through the forest, felling a tree. But it wasn't the sound of a crushed human body.
"Huh? Where'd the kid go?" Robin was bewildered. Just moments ago, Reza had been slumped against the tree. Now the tree itself lay fallen.
The next instant, his head flew into the air, severed before he even realized what had happened. His last sight was of his three friends, frozen in shock, their killing blows halted mid-motion.
As his head hit the ground, his fading vision captured a young man without his round glasses, staring at him from inches away, eyes dark and cold.
"Robin!" Strago, David, and Tuffy cried out.
"Stay back! Or we'll kill your friend!" David held the short-haired swordsman's limp body, pressing a blade to his throat.
Reza, his eyes now pitch-black, extended his right hand, palm open.
"Rip their heads off."
With just those three words, three more heads flew into the air, their owners conscious for only a few fleeting seconds.
David, Tuffy, and Strago watched their own standing bodies as blood fountained from their necks. Only then did they realize the unseen being.
"A… spirit user…"
Their heads rolled to the ground. Their bodies collapsed in blood.
Reza fell to one knee and vomited—blood, insects, and maggots pouring from his mouth.
The female swordsman screamed in terror, horrified more by Reza than by the men who had almost violated her.
"Hiii! Hiii! Please forgive me! I don't want to die!" Her robes grew wet beneath from fear. She felt an indescribable terror, her chance of survival against Reza far less than with those mercenaries.
Wiping his mouth, Reza whispered hoarsely:
"Hah… don't worry… I won't… kill anyone…"
Then he collapsed unconscious to the ground.
That gave the female swordsman her chance to flee. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her down the mountain, not caring for her two male teammates still lying there.
Fifty meters away, Amon and the man in black shirt were still trading blows amid the burning forest.
The flames were Amon's own doing—channeling fire magic into his fists so each strike burst with flame. But he was terrible at close combat. Or perhaps his opponent was simply too strong.
For twenty minutes he hadn't landed a single blow. Sweat poured down his face. The longer he used his flaming fists, the faster his stamina and mana drained.
"Hey, kid. Let me give you some grown-up advice."
Amon threw a straight punch. The black-shirted man parried, grabbed his arm, and slammed him to the ground. Thud! Amon coughed.
"Uhuk—uhuk!"
As Amon struggled to rise, the man lit a cigarette from the surrounding flames. They fought in a clearing surrounded by fire.
"In this world—especially a world of magic—you have to be stronger than anyone else to do what you want. The weak deserve to die."
Amon barely got up when a kick slammed into his solar plexus, sending him stumbling back three steps.
He coughed violently.
"Uhuk—uhuk—uhuk!"
The black-shirted man strolled toward him, puffing on his cigarette.
"This world is boring, isn't it? That's why tormenting and playing people is my hobby."
He yanked Amon's hair, lifted him up, and pressed the burning cigarette to his temple. Amon didn't scream, only hissed.
"Hey, look at me." He slapped Amon's face. "Tormenting weaklings like you is what makes me smile. See this grin? I'm loving this!"
Then he kicked Amon's stomach, sending him rolling.
Amon coughed again, but with all his strength, he struggled to stand.
The man stopped, waiting for Amon to rise, intending to kick him down again and again until his sadism was satisfied.
Blood dripped from Amon's mouth. He wiped it and stood tall, facing his opponent.
"Is tormenting the weak really that fun?"
"Hah? What are you babbling about, kid?"
"Do the weak not deserve to live?" Amon asked seriously.
The man laughed loudly at what he thought was a ridiculous question.
"OF COURSE! The weak are trash and burdens! There's no place for them in this world!"
"Hawk tuah!" Amon spat blood. "There are countless weak people in this world. Even when you were born, you were one of them."
"Hey, hey, hey, don't get me wrong, kid." The man stomped forward with a second, whispering in his ear, "From birth, I was never weak!" His fist slammed Amon's stomach.
Bam!
The sound was loud, but Amon didn't budge—only spat blood. His feet stayed firm.
"Oh, I see," Amon said, his pupils glowing gold. "Don't you remember the last time your mother nursed you as a baby?"
This kid… he embrace my mana-enhanced strike. Can he use body-strengthening magic too?
The man stepped back cautiously.
"Heh, I don't remember. I killed that weak woman when I was seven. She never gave me even a piece of bread. A greedy, lustful woman. Someone like that deserved to die, didn't she?"
Amon frowned in fury.
"She was still the mother who gave you life."
"Shut up, kid!"
Bam!
Their fists collided, but it was the man whose arm cracked from the blow. He leapt back in shock.
"Impossible! What are you doing, kid!"
"للنار اللي حواليا، ولإله الشمس اللي بيديني الدفا، وللأم اللي بتحميني من الحر، أنا بطلب شوية من دفاك."
(To the fire surrounding me, to the sun god who grants me warmth, to the mother who shields me from the heat, I beg for a little of your radiances.)
Amon chanted a mid-level fire spell. The flames around them surged toward him, wrapping around his body, gathering into his hands like a vortex.
A mid-tier fire spell? This kid can use intermediate magic?
Now the man was truly on guard, chanting an advanced body-strengthening spell.
"Now, let's start again." Amon clapped his flaming hands together, smiling broadly.
***