The sun beat down on the black stone of the Myriad Hunger Sect. Thousands of people stood packed together. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, unwashed bodies, and fear. These were the dregs of the world. Slaves, beggars, and refugees had all come to this one place. They all wanted the same thing. They wanted to be more than what they were born to be.
Wei Xiao stood in the middle of the crowd. His legs felt heavy. He had been running for a full week. His master was still out there somewhere. He could almost feel the phantom weight of the chains on his neck. His master was probably searching every nearby village. But he wouldn't come here.
Nobody dared to cause trouble at the gates of this sect. If Wei Xiao failed today, he was a dead man. If he stayed outside, his master would find him. If he entered the sect and lacked talent, the sect would kill him.
'It doesn't matter,' Wei Xiao thought. 'I would rather die trying to be a god than live as a dog.'
The heavy black gates creaked. They didn't open all the way. A man stepped through a small side door. He was tall. His clothes were a deep, dark purple that looked like dried blood. He had sharp, pointed ears that marked him as a High Royal.
His skin was pale and his eyes were cold. Everyone went silent. Even the sound of breathing seemed to stop. The man walked to a raised stone platform. He looked down at the thousands of desperate faces.
"What are you willing to sacrifice for the sake of becoming strong?" the man asked. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried to every corner of the plaza. "How far will you crawl to obtain power?"
The crowd shifted. Some people looked away. Wei Xiao kept his eyes locked on the man.
"Most of you will say you are ready to die," the man continued. his voice was sharp. "You think determination is enough. It is not. Ninety percent of people with that determination die anyway. In the Myriad Hunger Sect, we only have room for two types of people. The talented and the strong. If you show no promise, I will kill you myself. Or the others will. We do not feed useless mouths."
He leaned forward. His presence felt like a physical weight pressing on Wei Xiao's chest.
"I will ask one more time. Will you stay? Will you use your talent to become something greater than a human? Will you become stronger than any being in the heavens?"
A few people at the back turned and ran. They couldn't take the pressure. Wei Xiao didn't move an inch. He felt a strange spark in his chest.
'I will be the strongest,' Wei Xiao thought. 'I won't be under anyone ever again. Not a master. Not a king. Not even the heavens. I will control my own life.'
The man with the pointed ears gave a small, cruel smile. He waved his hand.
"Follow me," he said.
He led them through the gates. They didn't go to a palace. They went to a massive field of green grass. It was wide enough to hold everyone easily. The grass was a vibrant, unnatural shade of green. It looked healthy, almost too healthy.
"Sit," the man commanded. "To cultivate is to eat. The world is full of energy. We call it Qi. But for our sect, Qi is simply fuel. To grow, you must learn to be hungry."
Wei Xiao sat on the grass. The ground felt cool.
"Close your eyes," the man said. "Stop breathing with your lungs. Start breathing with your skin. Imagine your body is a hollow vessel. There is a fire in your gut. That fire needs wood. The air around you is that wood. Pull it in. Force it down into your center."
Wei Xiao closed his eyes. He tried to follow the instructions. At first, he felt nothing but the wind on his face. He focused on his stomach. He remembered the feeling of being a slave. He remembered the days he went without food. He remembered the literal hunger that used to gnaw at his ribs. He used that memory. He turned his spirit into a mouth.
Slowly, he felt a tingle. It was faint. It felt like tiny needles pricking his skin. He didn't push them away. He pulled them in. He imagined he was swallowing the very air. The needles moved through his arms and legs. They gathered in his lower belly. It felt warm. Then it felt hot. It was a sharp, burning sensation that made him want to gasp.
He kept going. He ignored the heat. He kept pulling the energy in. He could feel the grass beneath him. It felt like the grass was giving off a faint hum. He tried to "eat" that hum too. He spent what felt like hours in that state. His mind became clear. The world outside disappeared. There was only the fire in his gut and the energy in the air.
"Open your eyes," the man's voice barked.
Wei Xiao opened them. He felt different. His vision was sharper. His body felt lighter, yet more solid. He looked around. Many people looked exhausted. Some were sweating. Others looked like they had fallen asleep.
The man in purple stood in the center of the field. He drew a sword from his waist. It was a thin, black blade. He didn't say a word. He moved in a blur.
Wei Xiao's heart stopped. The man was a whirlwind of steel. He moved through the rows of people who had been sitting. In a split second, a spray of red hit the green grass. Heads rolled. Bodies slumped over. There was no screaming because it happened too fast. The man moved with a grace that was terrifying. He was pruning the crowd like a gardener.
The blood soaked into the grass. The vibrant green seemed to drink it up. Within a minute, thousands of people were dead. The field was a graveyard. Only about three hundred people were left standing or sitting.
Wei Xiao was one of them. He was covered in a light spray of blood. His hands were shaking. He looked at the bodies next to him. One was a young boy who had looked hopeful just an hour ago. Now, his head was several feet away from his neck.
The man cleaned his blade on a silk cloth. He looked at the survivors.
"The ones who died were weak," the man said. His voice was flat. "They were untalented. I warned them. They did not take the warning seriously. In this world, the weak do not have a voice. They only have a purpose: to be stepped on by the strong."
Wei Xiao looked at the blood on his own hands. He didn't feel sick. He felt a cold, hard realization. If he hadn't focused, if he hadn't felt that spark of Qi, he would be a corpse on the grass. The fear in his chest turned into something else. It turned into a dark ambition.
He looked up at the man. He forced a small, nervous smile onto his face.
"Will I be able to kill people like that?" Wei Xiao asked. "If they do not obey my word, can I make them disappear in a blink?"
The man with the pointed ears looked at Wei Xiao. For the first time, he looked interested.
"If you survive the next week," the man said. "You might just learn how."