"Aah... Is this how my life ends?"
Ryan lay on the cold ground, his chest heaving with dragged, rattling breaths. He wore dirty, ragged clothes as he tried to drag himself toward the table.
The small, cramped room was dimly lit, with only a single window that let in a sliver of sunlight. The walls were made of rough, unfinished concrete, and the floor was covered in a patchwork of worn-out mats and torn linoleum. A single, flickering bulb hung from the ceiling, casting eerie shadows.
The furniture was sparse and worn. A creaky bed dominated one corner, and a small, rickety table sat in the center, cluttered with scraps of food, empty bottles, and torn clothing.
The only thing well-maintained was a novel with a black cover. On it was the drawing of a man in white Eastern clothing, surrounded by dark and red sigils. The title read: "Defying Heavens Without Qi, Godless Ascension."
A few tattered clothes hung from a makeshift clothesline. Despite the poverty and neglect, hints of warmth and humanity remained. A faded family photograph hung on one wall, and a small, makeshift altar was adorned with candles, shells, and other trinkets.
The air was thick with the smells of cooking oil, sweat, and decay. Outside, the sounds of the city—car horns, chatter, and music—filtered in through the thin walls.
Finally, Ryan reached the table. He forced his upper body up, placing his right hand on the surface. His hand scavenged, sweeping everything to the ground except the book. A small, crooked smile followed by a tear appeared on his face as his hand landed on the novel.
He took the book, laid back on the ground, and rolled onto his back.
He held the book high above his face and stared at it, a mix of distorted emotions written on his face.
"Sammy... I'm sorry... I couldn't keep my promise," he muttered, tears rolling down his cheeks.
Ryan was seventy-five years old, living alone in this crooked space he called a home.
Ryan's life wasn't a story you heard every day. It was a tangled mess of broken promises and self-inflicted wounds, a tale so unique it felt like the only 'new thing under the sun.'
Born in 1950 to kindhearted parents, Raymond and Elara Jenkins, Ryan was their complete opposite, allowing the materialistic world to consume him.
At fifteen, he was sent to a correctional center for killing his parents in cold blood. The reason was unknown to everyone. Two years later, he escaped with some other inmates. While others might change or continue a life of crime, Ryan was different.
At eighteen, he forcefully raped a girl his age, claiming he loved her. He forced her to run away with him without her consent. They had nothing, barely eating or drinking. The girl, Jennifer, tried to run away countless times but always failed. Eventually, she gave up.
She gave birth to a daughter. When their daughter was ten, Jennifer committed suicide. Ryan still didn't change his ways, using his cunning for things that didn't matter. He barely cared for his daughter and often forgot her name.
When he turned fifty, his daughter, now an adult, left home and never returned until one month ago. She came back not to care for him, but to shame him in front of his grandchildren for all the bad things he had done. Ryan couldn't help but cry; it was too late now. Everything was almost over.
"Stop crying, Grandpa," a young, masculine voice said as a small hand caressed his cheek, wiping away his tears.
Ryan slowly looked up to see one of his grandchildren squatting in front of him with a smile. The boy was fair, with blonde hair and brown eyes. He held a book under his arm.
"I'm Sammy, and I'm proud to be your grandson."
Ryan slowly pushed his hand away and covered his face in shame.
"Don't be embarrassed by your mistakes. Hiding them is the real mistake," the boy said with confidence.
"I don't deserve to be called your grandfather, kid. My past is a stain that can't be washed clean. I'm a leaf blown by the winds of karma, and I've brought only suffering to those I should have protected."
Sammy remained calm. He was about to speak when an older girl, obviously his sister, yelled:
"Let's go and stop talking to that weirdo!"
Ryan didn't even have the right to correct her. Had he ever set a good example?
Sammy just handed the book to Ryan and said, "Grandpa, the 'Dao' isn't bound by time. A single breath can change everything. It's never too late to start over."
The words melted into Ryan's heart. He didn't know what "Dao" meant, but the statement did the magic, waking up the "good" in him. But how long would it last?
Ryan looked at the book and read the title: "Defying Heavens Without Qi, Godless Ascension."
After that day, Sammy always visited and explained the novel to him. Ryan wasn't that interested in a story about a weak character who became strong. He found the book useless after learning the main character's friend killed himself, feeling he was a burden. Why did he tag himself a burden?
Ryan couldn't remember why the friend felt that way. And then, Sammy had revealed the main character died unnecessarily after carrying the weight of his late friend as motivation for thousands of chapters. That's just a let-down.
The only part, he understood was the "defying heavens to reach your goal", but the ending just ruined the novel for him.
So Ryan didn't pay attention. A cultivation novel... whatever that meant. He only enjoyed the company of his grandson, not the book.
Sammy had brought along other novels, but the young boy was more interested in the "Godless Ascension" novel. He has said the book lost a lot of readers because of the unnecessary emotional philosophy and death of main characters and a complex world, but he loved it. Not because of the philosophies but the world building and elements. It was different from other cultivation novels.
Yet, all the novels he brought looked the same to Ryan. Even their titles looked almost alike and the plot is about chasing infinite Dao (whatever that means), transcending or defying the heavens. It is always a "weak to strong" kind of story.
Still, Ryan couldn't deny the fact that each story has a different type of main character. They were all chasing the same thing– power, but in different ways.
In structure, most share a core cultivation ladder and tropes. While in execution, the tone, character arcs, morality, and style can be wildly different.
For example from Sammy's explanations of the novels. There's a striking difference between Fang Yuan from Reverend Insanity and Meng Hao from I Shall Seal The Heavens.
The former sacrifices, manipulates, and kills anyone—friends, lovers, even blood relatives—if it benefits him. While the latter extort sects for resources, but he won't casually slaughter innocent people.
****
Ryan's tears increased as he clenched the book to his chest. Sammy was the first person he had ever felt free with.
Sammy... Sammy... I'm sorry... It seems the "Dao" in my story counted through years... I wasn't able to become a better person...
His gaze fell on the faded picture of the family; it was Sammy and his siblings. Sammy had given it to him as a gift on his last visit.
Ryan felt his heart racing faster and faster, then slowly dropping. His vision blurred. Everything felt heavy, even the air. It was as if he was in a trance, yet his body felt like it was moving.
Is this what death feels like?
His body became light. The blurriness turned into darkness, a sea of darkness.
Ah... I can see darkness, but my eyes aren't open. Why can I see things, but it feels like I'm looking into darkness? I'm lying in one place, yet I feel like I'm moving... falling... I can't stop falling... I can't talk... Why won't words come out?
Then everywhere became silent, more silent than usual.
"As I fall into the void, I see the faces of those I've hurt, the loved ones I've lost, and the opportunities I've squandered. But most of all, I see Sammy's smile, a beacon of hope in the darkness. I may not have lived in a life worth living, but in these final moments, I've found a sense of peace.
"The Dao may be boundless, but my time is finite. I'll carry the weight of my mistakes with me, but I'll also hold onto the love and forgiveness that Sammy showed me. Perhaps, in the end, it's not about defying heavens or ascending to greatness, but about finding redemption in the simplest of human connections."
Perhaps.. Perhaps someone like me can turn a new leaf....
Ah... death feels good when you've finally learned your lesson. It's a promise of a better life to come, but a life you have to forge yourself. You walk your own path; life is just the backdrop. Everything is a distraction—all this chasing after things we can't take with us. I've spent my life pulling those threads, trying to control the weave. But in the end, it's not the pattern that matters, it's the emptiness between the threads. The emptiness that's left me with nothing but sorrow and regret.
Ryan took his final breath with a smile.
"The thread of life is fragile, yet resilient. It's how one chooses to weave it that determines the pattern of their existence."
With a regretful smile, Ryan Jenkins dies.