In the next two days, we were about to embark upon our very first mission as the Zenith "Cult." It was the mission that would forever etch our names into the annals of history. And so I would like to do it justice by offering you a proper account in the legendary manner it deserves. Buckle up, dear reader, for our courageous Rescue Mission: Project Lightning.
The story begins in a small village called Greenleaf Crossing, nestled in the far outskirts of the Linhai Nation. How vast is this nation, you ask? Quite vast indeed. It would take at least a century to fully explore its reaches.
In this tiny village lived a little girl, about the age of seven, called Bai Yanyin. She was a cheerful yet determined child, possessing a spirit far larger than her small frame suggested. She used to live in a modest hut with her uncle. That was, until a few months ago, when her uncle was wrongfully accused and imprisoned at the Vortex Bastille, one of the most secure prisons in all of Linhai. She had been lonely ever since that dark day.
Twice every month, she would be granted permission to visit her uncle for one precious hour. And so one fine morning, after having a hearty breakfast, she began her journey. The rest of the villagers would look at her with pity as she passed. Some of them had offered to accompany her many times, but she would always politely decline. This was something she needed to do alone.
From her hut, for a small child like her, the walk was approximately two hours. She packed a water bottle, a stick to fend off any monsters, though none would show up during the daylight hours, and placed a little straw hat upon her head for some shade from the morning sun.
She walked through the forest beneath the sprawling branches, crossed a few shallow rivers, observed various animals going about their business, got distracted by some colorful butterflies dancing in the air, got lost for a while, found her way back through familiar landmarks, then kept walking again for a little longer. By the time she was done with her journey, she had broken her stick defending against imaginary threats, thrown away her damaged straw hat, and drunk every last drop from her bottle.
Far into the distance, she could finally see the imposing structure of the Vortex Bastille. It was a massive prison, which spiraled downwards into the earth with multiple levels buried deep underneath the surface. A single guard stood at the front gates, which bore a carving of a dragon's mouth stretched wide open, as if ready to devour all who entered. As she drew closer, Yanyin spotted the guard and waved at him with her small hand. The guard smiled in recognition.
"A little later than usual today," the guard observed with a friendly tone.
"Wild monkeys can be quite a nuisance," said Yanyin, catching her breath. "They stole my hat. I had to chase them down and get my hat back."
"Where's the hat then?" he asked, glancing at her bare head.
"I threw it away because they broke it anyway," she explained with a shrug.
The guard smiled warmly and handed her two coins from his pocket. "Don't worry about it. You can buy yourself a new one."
He then retrieved a golden-colored sigil and pointed it directly toward Yanyin. It shone with a brilliant blue light. They performed this ritual to check whether any demon was impersonating the person seeking entry. It would have glowed an ominous black if that were the case. Satisfied with the result, he opened the heavy gates for her and gestured for her to enter. She stepped through the threshold into the place where an old woman, one of the prison officials, was waiting for her with an expressionless face.
"Hi, Aunt Hua," said Yanyin, waving at her cheerfully despite the woman's cold demeanor.
The woman quietly took out a piece of dark cloth with a blank expression and blindfolded Yanyin without a word. She then took hold of her small hand and led her deeper into the prison's depths.
As she proceeded along the familiar path, just like every time before, all she could hear was the haunting wailing of prisoners echoing through the stone corridors and the occasional unsettling quiet in between the cries.
The wailing always frightened her deeply, so she made certain to hold on tightly to her lucky necklace, a blue-colored turtle-shaped stone, as she walked through the darkness. The first time she had visited this dreadful place, Aunt Hua, as she called the official, had told Yanyin that the facility was actually a monastery rather than a prison, where bad people were placed inside and helped by the government to transform into good people before being released back into the world as reformed citizens.
You're right to think that's exactly what you would tell a child, and that is indeed how prisons are supposed to function. Except, the Vortex Bastille only held prisoners who were sentenced to life imprisonment and eventual execution. No one who entered these gates as prisoners ever left them free.
Poor Yanyin clutched her necklace tightly and kept muttering a prayer for the suffering prisoners as she descended deeper.
Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, they finally reached the cell that held her uncle. An entire floor had been dedicated solely to her uncle, where he was confined in a single isolated cell. Both his muscular arms had been locked by heavy iron shackles and chained securely to the stone walls.
A cumbersome piece of armor was fastened around his broad chest, containing numerous needles that pressed against and blocked the important meridians of his body, preventing him from accessing any of his qi energy. Normally, just the shackles alone would be sufficient to suppress one's qi. But special prisoners required special precautions and measures.
The blindfold was removed from her eyes, and the prison official announced in a flat voice, "One hour."
Yanyin opened her eyes slowly to the sight of her uncle, who appeared like an angel imprisoned in the depths of hell, illuminated by a single lamp light positioned behind him that cast his head in shadow. He was a man of considerable frame, someone who looked more like a masterfully sculpted statue carved by divine hands than a regular mortal man.
Despite his dire circumstances, he smiled warmly at the sight of her. "Look who's here," he said with genuine affection.