In the vastness of the multiverse, countless realms rose and fell like sparks in a storm. Some burned with immortal light, where sages carved mountains with a flick of their sleeves. Others drowned in shadow, where demons gnawed at the bones of gods. Between these extremes stretched a thousand races, a thousand worlds—Netherworlds of endless night, Hells of eternal fire, oceans ruled by beasts older than time.
And yet, among such endless grandeur, there were places where life was worth less than dirt.
One such place was Azure Sky City—a mortal outpost under the shadow of the Azure Sky Sect. Cultivators strutted its streets in silks, boasting of qi roots and martial techniques, while beggars starved in alleys, their blood cheap enough to wash the stones.
It was here, in a corner so filthy even rats hesitated, that a boy slept in the garbage. His name was Shen Zhen.
Darkness pressed down on him.
In the dream, a hand brushed his cheek—warm, gentle, trembling. A woman's voice, soft and distant as if it came through endless layers of fog, whispered his name. He tried to reach out, but his arms felt too small, too weak.
Another figure stood just beyond the haze, tall and broad-shouldered, his face a blur. A man's voice—firm, protective—echoed faintly:
"No matter what happens, you are not alone."
Then the images scattered like ash on the wind.
He gasped awake.
The reek of rotting garbage hit his nose first. His eyes snapped open to the sight of cracked brick walls and a puddle of black water reflecting the moon. Rats scurried across the alley, one nibbling on his ragged sleeve until he jerked his arm. His whole body ached as though it had been hammered into the dirt.
His stomach growled, loud and miserable.
"...Not an orphan," Shen Zhen muttered to himself, clutching his chest with trembling fingers. He always said that upon waking, as though speaking it aloud could make the memory stay longer. "They're real. They have to be…"
But hunger didn't care about dreams.
He dragged himself upright, bones creaking, ribs sharp against his skin beneath a torn shirt. The slums of Azure Sky City stretched before him—muddy alleys crawling with beggars, broken lanterns, smoke from cheap oil fires. From somewhere down the main street came the clamor of merchants and disciples of Azure Sky Sect strutting about with silk robes and fat purses.
He licked cracked lips. Just one scrap of bread, even a rotten bun, would do.
His bare feet slapped the mud as he limped forward, weaving between piles of refuse. His eyes searched desperately for something edible—anything. He found only bones, gnawed clean.
A shadow moved at the end of the alley.
Several boys—ragged, lean, but stronger than him—blocked the way out. Their leader, a thin youth with a scar down his cheek, grinned with crooked teeth.
"Well, if it isn't the cripple."
The others laughed, circling.
Shen Zhen recognized them: gutter thugs, street rats like him, but ones who had learned to survive by tearing down the weaker.
"Starving again, dog?" the scarred boy sneered. "Maybe if you beg nicely, we'll throw you some scraps."
Shen Zhen's jaw tightened. He tried to push past.
Another boy shoved him back into the wall. "Hey, hey, don't be rude. Your father didn't teach you manners?"
The laughter rose.
Then the scarred boy leaned close, his breath foul with rot. "Oh wait. You don't even have a father, do you? Bet your whore mother spread her legs for anyone in the slums. Maybe that's why you came out so—"
Something inside Shen Zhen snapped.
His vision bled red. The vague memory of that soft hand, that blurred man's voice—his mother, his father—flashed in his mind.
He didn't think. He lunged.
The scarred boy didn't even have time to finish his insult.
Shen Zhen slammed into him with the force of a starved wolf, fingers clawing, teeth bared. The boy shrieked as they tumbled into the mud, Shen Zhen's fists raining down. Each strike was clumsy, untrained—but full of pure, feral wrath.
"Say it again!" Shen Zhen roared, spittle flying. His knuckles split open as he smashed the boy's nose flat. Blood sprayed.
The other beggars howled and lunged in, grabbing his arms, kicking his ribs.
But Shen Zhen didn't feel pain.
He twisted like a demon, headbutting one in the jaw with a sick crack. Another clawed at his hair—Shen Zhen sank his teeth into the boy's wrist, biting until coppery blood filled his mouth.
The boy screamed, "He's crazy! He's gone crazy!"
Mud, blood, and rain mixed beneath them as the alley became a pit of violence. Shen Zhen's eyes were wild, glowing with madness. His skinny frame should have crumpled under their numbers, but he fought as if possessed.
Somewhere deep inside, he heard his father's voice echo again—"No matter what happens, you are not alone."
But all he saw now was red.
He smashed the scarred boy's head into the ground until the laughter stopped. His fists didn't stop moving.
"Call my mother that again!" he bellowed, every word breaking into a snarl. "Call my father that again!"
The other boys hesitated, fear flickering across their faces. This wasn't the cripple they mocked every day. This was something else—something feral, something that should have been dead already.
One spat blood and shrieked, "Call the guards! He's a devil!"
From the end of the alley, the sound of armored boots rang out.
Shen Zhen froze mid-punch, panting, hair plastered to his face with blood and sweat. The beggars scattered like rats.
Two city guards appeared, chainmail clinking, carrying spears with lazy menace. One chewed on a stick of dried meat, the other spat phlegm into the mud.
"Well, well," the meat-chewer drawled. "What's this? Trash beating trash?"
His partner laughed, pointing at Shen Zhen, who was still straddling the unconscious scarred boy. "Look at this little rat. Doesn't even know when to stay down."
The laughter rang in his ears, mixing with the pounding of his blood.
Shen Zhen's lips curled into a snarl.
"I'll kill you too."
He staggered to his feet, fists trembling, eyes bloodshot.
The guards burst into booming laughter. One leaned on his spear just to keep from falling over. "Hear that? The cripple's threatening us!"
Their laughter made his rage burn hotter. He spat blood, stepped forward barefoot in the mud, and roared like a cornered beast.
Perfect — let's dive straight into Part 3 – The Devil Emerges.
Shen Zhen's roar echoed down the alley as he lunged forward barefoot, fists clenched.
The first guard barely had time to lower his spear before Shen Zhen slammed into him like a crazed boar. They both went sprawling into the mud, Shen Zhen clawing for the man's face.
"Little bastard!" the guard cursed, kneeing him hard in the gut.
The second guard kicked Shen Zhen square in the ribs, sending him rolling across the ground. Blood sprayed from his mouth as he hit the wall with a sick thud.
Still, he staggered back up, wobbling like a puppet with broken strings. His lips curled into a bloody grin.
"That all you got?" he rasped, spitting a tooth into the mud. "My grandmother hits harder, and she's been dead for years."
The guards blinked, then burst out laughing.
"Did he just—"
"—say his dead grandma beats harder than us?!"
The meat-chewer doubled over, tears in his eyes. "You're mad! Truly mad!"
Shen Zhen wiped blood from his mouth, swaying on his feet, then pointed at the spear-wielding guard. "And you. You swing that stick like my mother stirs porridge. Come closer, I'll show you how it's done."
The laughter choked into anger. The guard's face darkened as he lunged, slamming the butt of his spear into Shen Zhen's chest.
"Ugh!" Shen Zhen flew back, crashing into the wall so hard dust rained down. He crumpled to the ground, blood soaking his torn shirt.
The other guard stomped on his hand, grinding his fingers into the mud. Bones popped audibly.
Shen Zhen screamed—but even through the pain, he laughed. A harsh, broken laugh that made the guards glance uneasily at each other.
"What's funny, you little rat?"
Shen Zhen coughed blood into the guard's boot and grinned with cracked lips. "You'll need a whole squad to kill me. Two of you? Hah. My piss has more spine than you."
The guards snarled. One kicked him across the face, splitting his cheek open. The world spun.
Still, he tried to crawl forward, hands clawing through the mud, as if even in death he refused to kneel.
The guards beat him until he no longer had the strength to laugh, until the alley was filled with the sound of boots, fists, and the wet crack of ribs breaking.
When they finally grew bored, Shen Zhen lay crumpled in the filth, half-conscious, face swollen beyond recognition.
The meat-chewer spat on him. "Trash belongs in the trash. Remember that—if you're still alive tomorrow."
They walked away, laughter fading into the distance.
Shen Zhen twitched, blood dripping from his lips. His vision blurred, fading in and out.
Somewhere in the hollow ache of his chest, something stirred.
The alley was silent again. Only the drip of rainwater from a broken gutter accompanied the faint rattle of Shen Zhen's breathing.
He lay on his back in the mud, eyes half-closed, chest barely rising. Each breath scraped like knives inside his lungs.
So this… is it…?
His body refused to move. The world dimmed, shrinking into a tunnel of gray. His heartbeat slowed, stuttering.
Then—
A faint warmth pulsed from deep inside his chest.
It was subtle at first, like the brush of a coal ember under his skin. Then it spread, a thin golden glow flickering beneath the layers of filth and torn cloth, faintly etching the outline of a seal that had never been visible before.
His broken ribs tightened, then eased. The bleeding slowed. The hollow rattle in his lungs softened to a whisper.
Shen Zhen didn't see the glow; his vision was already too blurred. He only felt it—the strange warmth seeping into his bones, cradling his faltering heart like an unseen hand refusing to let go.
His cracked lips curved faintly, a broken smirk.
"Heh… guess… I got lucky again…"
The glow pulsed once more, then faded, leaving only his shallow breath in the rain.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
Perfect — let's wrap up Chapter 1 with Part 5 – Dirt and Laughter, where Fatty Jin makes his entrance and the mood shifts.
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Chapter 1 – Beggar in the Dirt
Part 5 – Dirt and Laughter
(Summary: Night falls. Fatty Jin finds the broken Shen Zhen, shocked but unable to resist joking. He drags him away, promising food if he survives. Shen Zhen faints with a faint smile.)
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Night draped its tattered cloak over Azure Sky City. The slums grew quiet, save for the distant barking of dogs and the occasional shout of a drunkard stumbling home.
Rain trickled steadily, washing rivulets of blood down the alley where Shen Zhen lay unmoving. His body looked more corpse than boy.
A round shadow waddled into the alley, humming off-key.
Fatty Jin, short and round as a dumpling with legs, carried a half-eaten roasted yam in one hand. His greasy face glistened in the moonlight as he muttered to himself. "Damn sect disciples… eat three chickens for breakfast and still throw the bones at us… tch, if I ever—"
He stopped dead.
"Holy shit."
His yam dropped into the mud as he rushed over. Shen Zhen lay in a pool of water and blood, barely breathing, his body covered in bruises and torn skin.
Fatty Jin's jaw dropped. Then, despite the horror in his eyes, his mouth twitched.
"…Brother Zhen, what did you do? Pick a fight with a house? Or did the house win?"
He poked Shen Zhen's cheek with a sausage-like finger. "Oi. Still alive?"
Shen Zhen groaned faintly, eyelids flickering.
Fatty Jin's eyes widened with relief. "Ha! Knew you wouldn't die that easy, you stubborn bastard." He slipped his arms under Shen Zhen's limp body, grunting as he tried to lift him. "Ugh—by the heavens, how are you this heavy? You eat nothing but air!"
With much wheezing and slipping in the mud, Fatty Jin managed to hoist Shen Zhen over his back. His legs trembled under the weight, but he kept moving.
"Don't die on me, you hear? If you die, I'll never forgive you. You still owe me two buns from last winter. I'll drag your ass back from hell just to make you pay me."
Shen Zhen's lips moved. A sound, broken but real, escaped: a faint laugh.
Then he went completely limp, unconscious.
Fatty Jin froze, then huffed. "Hah… still laughing, even half-dead. That's Shen Zhen for you."
He adjusted his burden and trudged deeper into the slums, muttering under his breath. "Fine, fine. I'll feed you tonight. But you better wake up quick, or I'll eat your share too."
The alley emptied once more, leaving only rain and the faint trace of laughter that lingered even in the dirt.