Chapter 1 — Master, This Poor Disciple Died Again Today

The blue sedan slammed into a tree. Glass shattered as the cinderblocks sitting in the front seat smashed through the front windshield and tumbled down the cliff. A few seconds passed, and then they crashed into the ground. Engine still revved by the brick on the gas pedal, the car growled, fighting the tree. Headlights flickered, lighting the night in strobes.

He jogged over and upended a tank over the car. Gas rushed out and coated the car, splashing through the open driver’s side window. He threw the gas left and right, sloshing it over the whole car.

At last, the tank ran dry. Drops of gas tumbled onto the car and gathered into the growing puddle on top of the trunk. He tossed the plastic tank aside and drew a knife, holding it over his wrist. Tensing, he closed his eyes.

Blood splattered over the driver’s seat, the steering wheel, the shattered windshield. Finished, he quickly wrapped his wrist with a bandage, then leaned through the window and pulled the brick off the gas pedal.

The car quieted, idling against the tree.

He dropped the brick over the cliff. It clattered down, smashing into the cinderblocks far below.

He tossed his cell phone into the car, then drew a lighter from his pocket. Flicking it on, he threw it at the car.

A fireball engulfed the sedan. Paint crisped and burned. Upholstery lit up like old newspaper. A lightbulb popped with a shatter of glass, and the headlights went dark.

Pleased, he allowed himself a moment to bask in the flames, then turned and walked away.

Bending over by the next tree, he threw aside a pile of branches to reveal an electric motorbike. Eyes lit up with joy, he wheeled it out onto the road.

Two brilliant lights blazed down on him. A truck barreled around the corner, blasting well over the speed limit. It crossed the lines to make the turn and flew at him. Tons upon tons bore down on him and his tiny motorbike. He stared up and saw the driver’s eyes, wide as dinner plates.

—

“Xiao Hui! Xiao Hui! Wake up! Hurry, hurry! Today’s the day!”

He furrowed his brows and flailed, slowly blinking awake. “W…what? The day for…?”

His voice came out high and clear, the voice of a young boy. Startled, he clasped his hands over his mouth, only to find chubby cheeks awaiting his soft palms. He drew his hands back and stared at them. Instead of long, calloused fingers, fat palms and stubby little fingers greeted him.

He stared.

A woman smiled down at him. “Hurry! The cultivators won’t be here forever!”

Rubbing his eyes, he sat up.

Images flashed through his head. His sad, lonely life. His father, beating him whenever he bothered to come home, on the rare days he wasn’t so drunk he fell over in the entryway. When his father finally died, only to be replaced by debt collectors hounding him for his father’s gambling losses. An empty adult life working twelve hours a day, multiple jobs, unpaid overtime, only to slog home and have his check stolen from his hands before he even passed the threshold. His only joy, webnovels, desperately read off a cracked smartphone in his few moments of free time.

He peered around him, taking his surroundings in. A wooden hut, a wooden floor. He laid on a thin blanket, and the ceiling closed off above him, not a single electric light to be seen. The only light spilled in through the windows, the early rays of dawn illuminating their hut.

He jumped up and raced out the door.

“Where are you going so early? Xiao Hui! Hey, come back!”

Around him, men and women in traditional clothes wandered along the village path, carrying loads or tools to their daily jobs. Huts spread out from the main road, a few small shops putting up their signs for the day, readying to beckon in travelers.

He breathed in a deep breath and tasted fresh air, untainted by pollution. Birds and insects chirped around him, singing in the early morning.

Overhead, a trio of people on swords flew by, white robes rippling in the wind, hands clasped behind their backs. They circled high overhead and descended into the town square. As they descended, the town exploded into noise. Families jostled toward the cultivators, leading small children by the hands. They shouted and waved, eager to grab the cultivators’ attention.

Hui’s eyes glittered.