"My body hurts."
In a place surrounded by darkness, Lin Hao, unconscious, woke up as every muscle fiber tightened inward beneath his flesh.
It was painful, but still bearable for him. He only complained in the first instant. In the next, he opened his eyelids.
Above him was a beautiful blue sky, dotted with clouds, and a sun that bathed the land in golden tones.
"It's already past eleven, huh?"
Kicking the ground lightly, Lin Hao lifted his body, pulling his back off the floor. As he stretched, the stiffness made his handsome face twist into a frown of agony.
Struggling to stand, he looked down and noticed his worn blue robe, marked with fist imprints. What stood out the most were the long sleeves and his right hand, covered in several open cuts. On his back—though he couldn't see it—he deduced there was a wound caused by kicks, based on the pain and the sensation of something running down his spine.
"I hate being weak… I lost my Qi Pill again."
Lin Hao let out a sigh, recalling the events from earlier.
He had been beaten up by a disciple who was after his monthly resources. At first, he resisted, but as he was hit over and over, he gradually lost consciousness. After he fainted, the disciple took his Qi Pill and left.
"Haa…"
Another disappointed sigh escaped Lin Hao's lips. He didn't blame the disciple for stealing from him. He only blamed himself for being an ant so easily stepped on.
"As long as I'm a loser, I'll keep losing my monthly resources. Only by being strong can I protect what is rightfully mine. But how?"
With no answer to his question, Lin Hao raised his right arm toward the sky and closed his hand into a fist. Light red lines trickled from his fingers due to the cracks in his skin.
Ignoring the blood, Lin Hao stared at his own fist, continuing to think about the question tormenting his mind.
How could he obtain strength and stop being bullied?
"If I had even the tiniest ray of hope… I would chase after it."
He smiled at that foolish thought.
One of the hardest things for him to obtain right now was hope. With his nonexistent talent for the Martial Dao, his fate was already decided. He would always be a servant of the Phoenix Pavilion, a disciple responsible for daily chores.
"This is my life."
Lin Hao accepted that reality without any perseverance to move forward.
Letting out a heavy sigh, he lowered his hand and prepared to stand up. But before he could move, white letters appeared in front of him, saying:
[Pathetic]
"You're right, I am pathetic… Wait???"
A question mark exploded in his mind. Confused, he rubbed his eyes and looked again. The white letters were still there, shocking him even more. His pupils trembled nonstop.
"What the hell is this?"
Reaching out, he touched the letters. His fingers passed through them as if touching air.
"An illusion that only I can see and can't interact with. What the hell is this supposed to be for? Don't tell me it's just here to mock me?"
Unsure of its purpose, Lin Hao widened his eyes and examined the letters like a hawk watching its prey. Then, the letters changed:
[Idiot]
Seeing that, veins bulged on his forehead. Rage filled him as he stared at the mocking characters.
"Go to hell!"
He cursed in frustration and spat on the ground to ease his anger. After calming down, he decided not to argue with those letters anymore. It would be humiliating to argue with little ghosts.
Standing up from the ground, he still felt a lot of pain in his back, but unlike before, the numbness had faded a little.
On his feet, Lin Hao felt the soles of his bare feet pressed against the hot, yellow earth.
"Not even my shoes were spared…"
Without any dignity left, he began to stagger through the deserted valley, an arid place where nothing could be seen but sand.
After crossing the desert, drenched in sweat from head to toe, he entered a plain covered with tall trees that cast shade over the entire vegetation.
Both locations were inside the Phoenix Pavilion. The desert was forbidden—not because it was dangerous, but because of its dryness and lack of spiritual energy.
After fainting, he had been thrown there by the disciple's lackeys. It wasn't the first time. Every time he was robbed, he ended up in the barren lands. And not only him—every weak servant experienced the desert at least once in their life.
Many disciples used it to bypass the Punishment Hall's rules, making excuses like:
"We fought fairly in the desert."
A weak excuse, but one the higher-ups accepted. Without strength, the truth is useless. In a world where power reigns, only strong fists can go against the rules.
Understanding this truth, Lin Hao showed no expression. Indifferent to everything, he stepped into the plain. The moment he did, his mouth opened slightly as the letters changed from white to silver-blue. And the sarcastic words turned into a long script:
[A pathetic young man, living a life with no dignity]
Today's script until noon:
Early in the morning, he went to the Distribution Hall, collected his vial containing one Qi Pill and five star stones. Later, while returning home, he was followed by Huo Zhang.
When confronted, he still fought for his dignity, but it was useless. He was brutally beaten, receiving several kicks. In a last desperate act, he tried to protect the pill, only to be struck harder on the back.
After half an hour of being beaten, he fainted from the pain. Huo Zhang took the vial and the star stones, and, irritated, removed everything of value Lin Hao had. Then, his followers threw him into the desert.
[End]
[Rewrite? A single word in the last sentence may be erased and rewritten]
"..?"
After reading all the letters, Lin Hao was stunned. In his sixteen years of life, he had never been so shocked.
"This illusion can read my memories? And what's this about erasing and rewriting?"
He felt tempted to change something in the script, but held himself back. The situation was far too strange to act on impulse. Sitting cross-legged, he simply stared at the letters.
He didn't know how much time had passed, but when the sun began to set on the horizon, Lin Hao finally decided to take a risk.
"Erase 'worn-out' and add 'new.'"
Murmuring the words, he didn't expect anything to change. But to his shock, before his very eyes, the worn marks on his clothes vanished. The old fabric became new.
"I-it's real…"