As my fingers pressed against the worn leather cover of the journal, faint footsteps echoed through the cavernous tunnels. My breath hitched. With a panicked flick, I stuffed the book beneath a broken slab—there would be more time to read later. I hoped.
Turning to the mouth of the cave, a towering figure loomed. A sickly giant of a man—his skin a contradiction, both ancient and newborn. Beneath his flesh, something moved. Writhing. As if a colony of maggots fed on meat that still lived.
"Master demands all of you scum to gather outside. Wake up and follow me!" he boomed, his voice ricocheting off the stone walls like a war drum.
The slumbering 'materials' around me stirred, groaning as they awoke—dragged from their only escape: sleep. Reality returned like a knife, slicing clean through hope.
Liú Hǎi jolted upright. Her delicate features were twisted in fear, her lips parted but voiceless. There was no comfort to offer.
We shuffled into a narrow line, our feet bare against the cold, grimy stone. The tunnels twisted before spilling us out into a paved courtyard ringed by towering Eastern buildings. Their grey walls were weathered, their roofs tiled in emerald green, marbled like rot on jade.
Ahead of us, a smaller group knelt in the center of the courtyard. They wore the same tattered robes as the man who led us, their heads bowed in shame or defeat. Our guide joined their ranks without a word and gestured silently for us to do the same.
We knelt. One by one. A mass of flesh and despair, arranged neatly into lines like offerings.
From the grand doors of the main palace, a figure emerged. The sliding panels swayed as though recoiling from what stepped through them.
The Master.
His scalp was blistered and peeling, like candle wax half-melted. His eyes were sunken pits, rotting with knowledge no man should keep. Teeth yellowed and warped jutted from his gums like shattered stone. And he was draped in flowing robes of jade silk—too beautiful for the corpse that wore them.
Floating behind him, tied by ethereal ropes, were figures I recognized—Chén Dé and his posse.
Their faces were cracked masks of despair. Another failed escape. Just as expected.
Chén Dé and six others were lowered to the ground like livestock for slaughter.
The Master smiled, his voice a cryptkeeper's whisper laced with decay.
"It seems some of my dear disciples have grown wings, readying themselves to fly. But as I am a gracious and loving master, I shall let you plead your case."
Chén Dé lifted his head. "Master, our actions may seem disrespectful, but truly, we only wished to pursue a suspicious yellow-ringed sparrow. It may have been a spy from a rival sect, seeking to dishonor you—our benevolent master."
His voice trembled. His hands clenched.
The Master's grin widened. "Hmm… If that's the case, I suppose I should reward you, no?"
For a moment, the bound men's faces lifted with hope.
Then their heads burst.
Like overripe fruit, their skulls ruptured. Blood and grey matter sprayed across the courtyard. Bone fragments and torn sinew painted the ground. A wet, red lump of brain slid down chengs cheek—but I did not flinch.
The Master stepped forward, past the twitching remains, and placed a hand upon Cheng's shoulder.
"Phantasmael," he said, almost gently, "you have done great virtue for your master. You did not walk the path of cowards. For this, you shall be named my head disciple, and you shall bear the name of he who failed."
His cracked nails dug into Cheng's shoulder.
"Chén Wēi. Yes. That shall be your name now. Redeem it. Reforge it." The Master chuckled, a hideous, phlegm-filled sound, before turning and gliding back into his palace.
Cheng was taken away by a fellow disciple—one who wore white robes nearly identical to the late Chén Dé's, though his token was made of wood, carved with minimal detail.
"I am Tosit Hawui Wan, name bestowed by the Master. As your brother, I'll guide you to your pavilion," the man said, bowing with a greeting of equals: fist to palm, low and formal.
Cheng nodded silently, stepping forward into the world that now claimed him.