Jian Vareth — The Forbidden Blood Emperor

Eps 2

"With pleasure, Senior Brother!"

Xiao Feng’s fist connected with Jian’s stomach before he could even blink. The air left Jian’s lungs in a violent rush. He collapsed to his knees, gasping for air, the world spinning in shades of grey and red.

"Get up," Xiao Feng sneered, grabbing Jian by the hair and slamming his face into the stone. "Get down on all fours! Now!"

Jian felt blood leaking from his nose, the copper taste filling his mouth. He tried to push himself up, but another kick to his ribs sent him sprawling back into the dirt.

"You see, Jian?" Ling Tian said, his voice floating above him like a cruel lullaby. "This is your natural state. Close to the earth. Close to the worms. Why fight it? It is so much easier to just... accept what you are."

"I... am... not... a worm," Jian spat, blood spray hitting Ling Tian’s white hem.

Ling Tian’s eyes darkened. The air around him began to crackle with blue sparks of Qi. "You dared to soil my robes."

"Oh, you're in for it now, you little rat!" Xiao Feng shouted, looking delighted.

Ling Tian reached down, his hand gripping Jian's throat with the strength of a vice. He lifted Jian off the ground until his toes were barely scraping the stairs.

"I was going to let you just crawl," Ling Tian whispered, his voice vibrating with a terrifying intensity. "But now? Now, I think I want to see you break. I want to hear the sound your spirit makes when it finally gives up."

He threw Jian back down onto the stairs with such force that a crack appeared in the stone.

"Crawl," Ling Tian commanded. "Crawl under my feet, across these stairs, all the way to the bottom. If you stop, if you look up, if you even think about standing, Xiao Feng will break one of your bones. Do you understand?"

Jian lay there, the pain in his body a dull roar. He looked at the hundreds of faces watching him. Some were laughing. Some were indifferent. None were helping.

This is it. This is the truth of the Sky Cloud Sect. They don't want heroes. They want servants. They don't want talent. They want bloodlines.

"Crawl!" Xiao Feng yelled, landing a heavy blow on Jian's lower back.

Jian felt something snap. Not a bone, but something deeper. Something in his soul that had been holding onto hope, onto the idea that if he just worked hard enough, he would be accepted. That hope vanished, replaced by a cold, black void.

Fine, Jian thought. If you want a monster, I will become a monster.

He lowered his head. He placed his palms flat on the hot, rough stone. And then, he moved.

One hand. One knee. One hand. One knee.

The laughter of the disciples erupted like a tidal wave.

"Look at him go!"

"He really is a dog!"

"Faster, Vareth! My grandmother can crawl better than that!"

Jian didn't look up. He watched the white boots of Ling Tian move slowly ahead of him, always just out of reach, forcing him to keep moving through the filth and the spit.

"That's it," Ling Tian’s voice was filled with a sickening satisfaction. "Good boy. See how much better this is? No more pretending. No more delusions of grandeur. You are exactly where you belong."

I will remember this, Jian thought, his fingers bleeding as they scraped against the rock. I will remember the sound of your voice. I will remember the smell of your perfume. I will remember every single person laughing right now.

The stairs seemed endless. Every inch was an agony. He crawled past Xiao Feng, who took the opportunity to spit on his back. He crawled past the older disciples who looked at him with nothing but disgust. He crawled until his knees were raw and his vision was blurring.

Finally, he reached the bottom. The dusty courtyard felt like a battlefield. He stayed there, face-down in the dirt, his breath coming in ragged, sobbing gulps.

"Well," Ling Tian said, standing over him, his white robes still mostly pristine despite the drama. "I think he's learned his lesson. Wouldn't you agree, Xiao Feng?"

"Absolutely, Senior Brother! He looks much more... humble now."

"Good. Handyman! Make sure these stairs are finished by tonight. And don't let me see your face in the upper inner circle again. You are a stain on our reputation."

Ling Tian turned and walked away, his entourage following him like a royal court. Xiao Feng lingered for a moment, leaning down to whisper in Jian’s ear.

"If I see you crying, I'll give you something real to cry about. Get to work, trash."

Then, he was gone.

Jian didn't move for a long time. The sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long, bloody shadows across the courtyard. The other disciples eventually drifted away, bored of the spectacle.

Silence reclaimed the mountain.

Jian slowly pushed himself up. His body screamed in protest, but he ignored it. He walked over to the bucket of water he had left earlier. He looked at his reflection in the dark surface.

His face was a mask of blood and dirt. His eyes... they were different. The warmth was gone. The light was gone. There was only a cold, flickering ember of hatred.

"Kindness," Jian whispered to the empty air. "Kindness is a lie told by the strong to keep the weak from biting back."

He picked up the brush. His hands were shaking, not from fear, but from a suppressed rage that felt like it was about to burst his veins.

"I did everything they asked," he muttered, his voice growing stronger. "I followed every rule. I bowed my head. I took the beatings. And for what? To be stepped on like an insect?"

He looked up at the Sky Cloud Sect’s main hall, glowing with a golden light on the peak of the mountain. It looked like a palace of the gods. To him, it looked like a tomb.

"You think you’ve broken me," he said, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "You think you’ve shown me my place."

He stepped toward the edge of the terrace, looking out over the vast, dark forest that stretched out below the mountain. The wind began to pick up, whistling through the ancient pines.

"You are right about one thing, Ling Tian," Jian whispered, his eyes narrowing. "The world doesn't care about rights. It only cares about power."

He gripped the stone railing so hard his knuckles turned white.

"I will find it. I don't care what I have to do. I don't care whose blood I have to spill. I don't care if I have to crawl through the depths of hell itself."

The moon rose, a pale, silver crescent that offered no warmth. Jian stood there, a lone figure in the darkness, surrounded by the ruins of his former life.

"I swear it on the blood you took from me today," Jian hissed, his voice echoing off the silent stones. "I will climb those stairs again. But next time, I won't be crawling. And when I reach the top, you will be the ones grovelling in the dirt."

He looked at the brush in his hand and snapped it in two, throwing the pieces into the abyss below.

"Jian Vareth is dead," he said, the words feeling like a blood-oath. "And what rises in his place... you are not going to like it."

He turned away from the light of the sect, his silhouette merging with the shadows of the night. The air grew cold, a frost beginning to form on the very stairs he had just cleaned. Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled, a lonely, predatory sound that seemed to answer his call.

Wait for me, Ling Tian. Wait for me, Sky Cloud Sect. I am coming for everything you hold dear. And I will start with your lives.

Jebakan Ramuan Suci

The morning sun did not bring warmth to the Sky Cloud Sect; it only brought the clarity of a fresh nightmare. Jian Vareth stood at the edge of the servants' quarters, his joints screaming as he tried to straighten his back. The bruises from the previous day had turned a deep, sickly purple, mapping out the geography of his humiliation in shades of bruised fruit and dried blood.

"Can you even stand, Jian?"

Jian turned his head slowly.