Legacy. Chapter 1 (Patreon)

Chapter 1: A Cultivator’s Kindness

Pain.

That is all she could feel. Each breath is short and ends with a with a sharp spine of pain.

Her eyes sting from pain, dust and tears. Her lips are dry. Her mouth tastes dust and blood, a foul mix that makes her want to retch.

But being buried beneath rubble – beneath heavy stone and wood– did not grant her the space to vacate her stomach. Something that is the least of her worries now.

Tired, teary and unfocused eyes stared ahead, towards the lone ray of light within the darkness cocooning her. A single ray of light bathing upon her dusty and bloodied hand.

A single ray of light piercing into her soon-to-be grave. A shallow and pathetic grave made of the rubble of a brothel.

Her fingers flex, digging through pebbles and wooden shards, futilely trying to find something to grip so to drag herself forward with her already fading strength.

Her other arm is pinned down below her stomach, and she can’t feel her legs. The more she tried to save herself, the deeper she fell into despair.

She forgot how long she spent below the rubble, the slow crawl of time tearing at her worse than the weight of the building pressing upon her form.

An agonizingly slow death is what she gets.

Her screams ran out long before the sun rose and it’s rays started bathing her cold hand with it’s warmth.

Warmth, despair and silence. All she had left.

Together with the macabre realization that she is the lone survivor of her town.

A powerless sob wracks her form. A powerless sob cut short due to the loud sound of gravel crunching beneath heavy steps.

Her eyes widen and hope rekindles within her cold heart.

“Please…” She tries to call out, her voice dry and breaking, but a whisper in the air that none could hear.

Yet, the steps halt. She tries again, but no sound comes out of her aching throat.

All of her screams wasted during the night, when nothing but the ghosts of the people buried alongside her could her.

Then, the steps resume. Faster and heavier than before, growing closer and closer.

Tear drip down her cheeks as hope and fear mix together, lips opening and closing over and over in an attempt to make any kind of noise.

“I heard you!” A male voice shouts as her pained breathing quickens, her ears entirely focused on listening to those steps rush around, the owner clearly looking for her. “Talk again! Please!”

She tries, but not even a choked noise flows out of her. No matter how hard she pushes herself.

And that’s when the steps draw even closer, and a large calloused hand grasps hers.

Her eyes widen. “Squeeze it if it’s you!” Her fingers tremble as she mustered up the strength to squeeze that larger hand, but her savior did not wait for her to do so once. The movement of her fingers had been enough.

Leaving her hand, that large hand reaches under to grip the fallen structure of the building that collapsed upon her.

Then, in one swift motion, the entire remains were hurled high in the skies.

A gasp leaves her lips, followed by a big lungful of much needed air. All the pressure bringing her pain and numbness disappeared as soon as the debris were lifted off her form… But her hope fully turned into fear upon witnessing that strength.

A Cultivator.

She wanted to shrink away, crawl back and hide, just make sure she isn’t seen. All things the Matron ordered her to do when Cultivators show up.

People who look upon normal mortals as if they were vermin. Soon-to-be slaves and servants.

Or, for women, worse.

“You’re alive…” The voice of her savior breathes out, and despite herself, her eyes peek upward to take in his visage.

Once pristine and perfectly well kept white robes now torn and caked in dirt, dried blood and other stains.

Pitch black hair laying free, wild and unkempt, some strands tightly locked together due to clogged blood.

And a missing left arm.

He looks young, perhaps a few years older than her… Yet there’s a weariness on his face. But also happiness.

He looked happy to see her.

“Don’t move.” He whispers as he knees down beside her, lone right palm coming down to rest on her higher back.

A gasp leaves her lips when a warm and gentle energy flows through her body, washing away all the pain and numbness, bringing back warmth and comfort to the limbs she couldn’t even move.

All in a matter of a few seconds.

The same hand that saved her and healed is soon offered to her, and despite the fear deep inside of her, she gingerly takes it and let’s herself be helped to her feet.

Her form stumbles, her legs starting to warm up as blood starts to flow through them without obstruction or weights in the way.

Her eyes blink, getting used to the bright rays of the sun raining down upon her now free body, “Senior Brother, thank-” Her words halt in her throat as her eyes take in the scenery around her.

Her town, now but a big pile of rubble and death.

And far into the distance lay an enormous corpse, a lake of it’s own blood right below the enormous creature.

It’s head alone is the size of a mountain and resembled the head of a goat, while she can’t even see the rest of it’s body due to how massive it is.

Just looking at the dead being filled her body with cold fear. A fear that reminded how everything happened.

The announcement of the sudden attack. A rally to war.

The Heavens turned blood red.

And then vile creatures swooped down from the dark clouds above, tearing through people and buildings, openly feasting on flesh and blood. Uncaring if it was that of a child, an elderly or a woman.

It was hell on earth.

“It’s alright.” Her savior reassures her as he follows her gaze towards the large corpse. “It’s dead. I made sure of it.” His words were filled with hate and conviction, one she decided to trust.

Turning to face him once more, she took notice that just like his arm, his left eye had been completely destroyed too.

“Senior Brother…” Breathing in softly, her dust covered form starts to bend and lower itself, “Thank you for saving my lowly life. I doubt I’ll ever be able to repay your grace.” Her knees equally bend, and she goes to kowtow while cupping her hands together.

Because that is what one must do before a Cultivator, lest they are angered and take it out upon you. And upon your family.

For that is how cruel they are. For that is why she was taught to avoid them.

And yet,a strong hand reaches out to step her from kowtowing.

Her wide-eyed gaze rises to meet a lone, warmhoney-colored eye.

The Cultivator before her smiles kindly, stunning her further.

“No.” He shakes his head lightly at her, then let’s her go and lowers himself on one knees. “Thank you, for staying alive.”

Her mind can’t process what she is seeing before her.

She heard stories of how cruel Cultivators can be, and are. She saw their cruelty first hand many times too.

Everyone says that there is no kind Cultivator out there. That they only do things for something in return.

And yet, kneeling before her, is a Cultivator.

Smiling kindly at her, and thanking her.

“At least I managed to save one life.” The Cultivator chuckles softly, a mocking tone directed at himself. “So, truly, I thank you from the bottom of my heart and Soul.”

“Thank you for staying alive, Junior Sister.”

A kind Cultivator…

It took the end of the world for one to appear.



A.N. Sooo... Decided to write 4 chapters of the Original Xianxia Novel some people requested. Posting it here to see how it's received. On discord it went quite well, so time to see here how it's taken.

I won't add the summary or stuff like that. It'll be easy to piece things together as i post the next chapters.

It's all original too, btw. Cultivation Realms, mine. Characters, mine. World, mine. Soo... yeah. My own take on a Cultivation World minus the annoying tropes that make Xianxia annoying after a while.