Jian Vareth — The Forbidden Blood Emperor

"One thousand and two," Jian hissed, his voice a dry rasp that barely cleared his throat. Just another nine thousand to go. My knees... they feel like they are being pressed onto hot coals. Keep moving. If I stop, the whip follows. "Oi! Trash! Did I tell you to stop?" Jian froze, his fingers tightening around the splintered wood of his brush. He knew that voice. It was a voice that had haunted his dreams for the last two years. Xiao Feng. "No, Senior Brother. I was just... adjusting my grip," Jian replied, his head bowed so low he could see the cracks in the ancient stone. "Adjusting your grip? On the Sect's time? You are a handyman, Vareth. You do not have time to breathe unless I say so. Look at this step! It still has a streak of mud on it. Are you blind as well as useless?" I scrubbed that spot five times. You kicked dirt on it just now, you bastard. "I will clean it again immediately, Senior Brother." "You are damn right you will. And you will do it with your sleeve. The brush is too good for this stone. Go on then. Let us see some of that famous 'hard work' you commoners are so proud of." Jian felt the heat of the midday sun beating down on his neck, but it was nothing compared to the simmer of humiliation in his chest. He pulled his sleeve over his hand and began to scrub. "Lower! Put some weight into it, you pathetic scrap!" Xiao Feng laughed, leaning back against a decorative pillar. "You know, I heard a rumour this morning. They say your spiritual root is not just broken, it is actually rotting. Is that true, Jian? Are you literally decaying from the inside out?" "I wouldn't know, Senior Brother," Jian whispered. "Speak up! I can't hear you over the sound of your own inadequacy!" "I said, I wouldn't know!" Jian's voice cracked. "Don't you take that tone with me!" Xiao Feng stepped forward, his heavy boot landing squarely on Jian's fingers. Jian gasped, a sharp, white-hot pain lancing up his arm. He didn't pull away. He couldn't. "Please... Senior Brother..." "Please what? Please let you go back to being a waste of space? You should be thanking me. I am giving you a purpose. Without us, you would be begging in the dirt of some nameless village. Here, at least you get to touch the stones of the Sky Cloud Sect. Even if it is only with your face." "Is there a problem here, Xiao Feng?" The voice was cool, like a breeze through a graveyard. The pressure on Jian's hand vanished instantly. He didn't need to look up to know who had arrived. The air itself seemed to thin, heavy with the presence of someone who was born to rule. "Ling Tian! No, no problem at all, Senior Brother!" Xiao Feng's voice had transformed from a lion's roar to a dog's whimper. "Just... teaching the trash some manners. He was being disrespectful." Jian slowly looked up. Ling Tian stood at the top of the flight of stairs, his white robes shimmering with a faint, ethereal glow. His hair was perfectly bound, his skin flawless. He looked like a god who had accidentally wandered into a slum. "Manners are important," Ling Tian said, his eyes resting on Jian for a fraction of a second before dismissing him entirely. "But you are wasting your breath, Xiao Feng. Can a dog understand poetry? Can a pig appreciate the stars? Why bother speaking to it at all?" "You are right, as always, Senior Brother! I was being far too generous," Xiao Feng chuckled nervously. Ling Tian began to descend the stairs, his movements fluid and effortless. Each step he took felt like a hammer blow to Jian's pride. "Wait," Ling Tian said, stopping three steps above Jian. "Yes, Senior Brother?" Xiao Feng asked eagerly. "The path is a bit... dusty, is it not?" Ling Tian looked down at his boots, which were made of white dragon-silk. "I would hate to ruin these. My father had them commissioned by the capital's finest craftsman." Xiao Feng's eyes widened. A cruel, sycophantic grin spread across his face. "Of course. It would be a tragedy. Jian! Did you hear the man? The path is dusty." Jian felt his heart sink into his stomach. No. Please, not this. "What do you want me to do?" Jian asked, his voice trembling. "What do you think, you i***t? Clear the way!" Xiao Feng barked. "And I don't mean with a brush. Get down there. Make yourself useful for once in your miserable life." Jian looked at the long stretch of stairs below them. There were hundreds of disciples watching from the courtyards, their whispers like the buzzing of flies. "I... I can't." "What was that?" Ling Tian’s voice was still soft, but it carried an edge that could cut bone. "I don't think I heard you correctly, Jian Vareth." "I said... I am a disciple of this sect too," Jian said, his voice gaining a desperate strength. "A handyman, yes, but I have a name. I have a right to stand on my own two feet." The silence that followed was absolute. Then, Ling Tian smiled. It wasn't a kind smile. It was the smile of a cat watching a mouse with broken legs. "A right? You think you have rights?" Ling Tian stepped down one more stair, his face inches from Jian's. "Rights are for those who can defend them. Rights are for those with power. You? You are a mistake. A flaw in the design of the heavens. You don't have rights, Jian. You have permissions. And right now, I am withdrawing your permission to stand." "Senior Brother Ling, please," a new voice broke through the tension. Jian turned his head slightly. Lin Xier was standing at the edge of the stairs. Her eyes were wide, filled with a mixture of pity and fear. "Xier," Ling Tian said, his tone softening only slightly. "You shouldn't be here. This is... unsightly business." "He has worked all day in this heat," Xier said, her voice small. "Maybe that is enough for today?" "Enough?" Ling Tian laughed softly. "Xier, you are too kind. That is your greatest weakness. If we don't prune the weeds, they choke the garden. This 'trash' thinks he is our equal. He thinks his 'hard work' earns him a place at the table. If I let this slide, what message does that send to the others?" "But—" "Go back to your training, Xier," Ling Tian interrupted, his voice turning cold again. "This doesn't concern you." Xier looked at Jian. For a moment, their eyes met. Jian saw the apology in her gaze, but he also saw the cowardice. She looked away, her head bowing as she retreated into the crowd. Even you, Jian thought, a cold stone forming in his gut. Even the person I thought was my friend won't speak up. Is this the world I wanted to join? Is this the 'righteous' path? "Now then," Ling Tian said, turning back to Jian. "I am waiting. My boots aren't going to clean themselves." "I won't do it," Jian said, his voice steady now, though his body was shaking. Ling Tian didn't look angry. He looked bored. "Xiao Feng."