Chapter 1:
My little hand didn't stop shaking, even after I plunged the knife into his throat.
"Ukhh… kkh" Blood seeped profusely from the man's neck, staining it a bright red as he looked at me with pleading eyes, his mouth trembling and he looked like he was trying to articulate words but couldn't.
It was the first time I'd seen a pleading look, a look of fear of death… and since that day, I've seen many, a number I can't even remember.
I still remember my father standing behind me, his eyes cold as ice without a trace of mercy, before he said without even blinking, giving the instructions I had grown up hearing, which gave me a constant sense of necessity to carry out what he said: "Kill him, Mo Bai, don't hesitate, one cannot become strong in this world without killing."
I was scared and hesitant, but I didn't cry. Not a single tear fell from my eye. I also remember feeling a strange feeling, completely different, even contradictory from all the other feelings. A feeling I didn't know what it was at the time, and I still don't know what it is now.
Maybe it was satisfaction? Or relief? I don't know, but that's what I felt as I stared at the flowing blood covering his clothes, his trembling hand falling as the sound of his choking echoed, a strange gurgling sound that suggested his end was near.
Why? Why didn't I cry? And I'm just a six year old kid and I killed, that's probably what anyone would ask or think.
Because I was saturated with my father's teachings, words repeated thousands, even millions of times, to teach me, in the middle of meals, during ordinary conversation, without my realizing it, or in direct lessons from him.
He was teaching me that weakness is forbidden, indeed, the greatest sin in this world.
He was teaching me that the strong rules, the strong imposes control, whatever the strong wants happens, whatever they desire, it comes to them on a golden platter. Why? Because they are strong.
But the most important thing about these teachings is that power comes through killing. If I want to become powerful, I must kill.
And amidst these daily teachings, a great, even immense, longing for power was instilled deep within me, a longing that grows day by day, and I still have it to this day.
That was the reason, at least I think so.
Or maybe not? Maybe not, I really don't know. I'm not sure, and it's not as if I really care. The reasons don't matter, what matters is that the outcome is beneficial to me.
This is what I learned after years of experience, and what I did not know at the time, as I was only six years old, just a child, even though this child learns about life and reality early, but in the end he remains a child.
Now, I know very well why my father did this cruel act, which I did not know at the time due to my limited thinking.
And I thank him for that now whenever I remember this, because it was precisely because of this harsh upbringing that I learned to see the reality of this dark world at an early age, and this helped me a lot.
I was only six years old at the time, but my dream was very big, it was a dream that required many things, many of which I did not have, I was dreaming of the top, of rising above everyone else, which was really impossible just by thinking about it.
But the strange thing? My father was the one who planted this dream in me, he was the one who helped and encouraged me to follow this impossible dream, and I still pursue it to this day. I pursue the freedom to control my destiny, and to control everyone's destiny as well.
But before I got to my current stage, I went through many, many obstacles and stages, let's continue to remember the first one, it seems as if I got lost in my dreams and took a turn while thinking huh.
I still remember the scene of me pulling the knife from his throat, smelling that metallic smell and feeling the stickiness on my face, not because I really remember him personally, but just because I got used to that smell and feeling over the years, I can imagine it simply by remembering pulling the knife, maybe this is an amazing ability? Haha, but rest assured that you can't develop it until you kill at least millions of people.
This murder was the foundation of my journey, my first step toward my dream, and I have never regretted it.
Through it, I began my journey into the Shadow Blade Clan, a clan like all other clans where only the strong are respected and cruelty reigns supreme, with no turning back.
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