Volume One: The Wild Boy Chapter Twenty: Immortals and Demons

Watching Lin Changtian remain silent, the investigators furrowed their brows. “It’s best if you tell the truth. According to the current laws of Zhongzhou City, spies or suspected spies can be executed on the spot. Our patience is limited.” Lin Changtian yawned, recalling every day and night in the wilderness, always having to stay alert for threats that emerged precisely when his guard was lowest. The roles of hunter and prey could swap in an instant. Though each day was fraught with danger, there was a certain reckless charm in living with the sky as his blanket and the earth as his bed.

Yet the inner poet found in survival was nothing but idle complaint, soon forgotten with the next pang of hunger.

But the instinct for combat was etched into Lin Changtian’s very bones.

At last, the investigators lost their patience. Too much time had been wasted on this frail and dubious “spy”; the most efficient solution was simply to execute him, never mind guilt or innocence. After all, in their eyes, lack of value was already a crime. The leader of the group stood, signaling the soldiers behind him to drag Lin Changtian outside for a firing squad.

Lin Changtian did not resist, only said in a trembling voice, “Could you at least take off these handcuffs? They’re unbearably tight. I don’t want to die like this.” The officer glanced around the cramped room, then at the soldiers at his side, and nodded with a mocking smile, pleased by his own mercy.

Following orders, the soldier removed the “lamb’s” handcuffs. Lin Changtian let out a long sigh of relief, flexed his wrists, and gave the officer a bashful smile.

In the wilderness, the roles of hunter and prey could change in a blink.

The officer’s mocking expression was still frozen on his face, even as blood spurted from his neck and his head crashed to the floor—still a sneer, even in death. In that cramped room, Lin Changtian recalled a line from a classic film of a century ago: Within seven steps, the fist is faster; beyond seven, the gun prevails.

He stripped the officer of his uniform and donned it, fiddled with the soldiers’ firearms but found them unfamiliar, and finally chose a standard-issue short blade from the corpse’s belt. With a swagger, he strolled out; to his surprise, the corridor was empty.

He made his way out of the prison without meeting a single soul. Lin Changtian was puzzled, but quickly realized why.

“It seems I truly am the chosen one, blessed by fate. They must all have gone off duty. Ah, the prison’s the best—nine to five, every day,” he mused, hands clasped behind his back as he smiled up at the sudden emergence of “dark clouds” on the horizon. But as the “clouds” drew ever closer, his smile faded.

The war between the Lin family and Zhongzhou City had raged for more than a month. Since the awakening era began, the Lin clan, inheritors of the Realmwalkers, had become a giant among the northern powers of the Central Lands. Their explosive expansion could no longer tolerate a small city blocking their path of conquest. Thus, technology’s artillery and the powers of the awakened intertwined, bearing down ruthlessly upon Zhongzhou City.

Where the Lin family advanced against Zhongzhou, they crushed all resistance like rotted wood. The people of the city—citizens, soldiers, both the powerful and the powerless—scattered like startled birds and beasts. In a single night, prosperity was all but erased, Zhongzhou nearly wiped from history, its capital reshuffled anew.

The Lin family’s overwhelming assault left few in Zhongzhou City with any chance of escape. Large crowds were herded toward the city center, and Lin Changtian mingled among them, obediently following the Lin soldiers. Some tried to slip away but were quickly spotted and executed without mercy. Yet, apart from that, the soldiers did not so much as touch the frightened “lambs” clutching their gold and silver. Seeing this, no one dared to flee again, and so the throng meekly moved toward the city center.

Soon, wave after wave of people were gathered in the wide plaza at the heart of the city, all turning their eyes upward to the awakened ones who flaunted their power above. Among them, the most nonchalant reclined upon a flying throne, lazily surveying the crowd.

This seemingly casual youth’s presence only fueled the restless clamor among the masses, their uproar soaring to the sky, scattering even the wild cranes among the clouds. The youth opened his bleary eyes and yawned. “Stop shouting, stop shouting, it’s really exhausting, you know.” His words, soft and feeble, were lost amid the din, barely louder than a mosquito’s buzz. He muttered to himself, “See? I gave them a chance, but they didn’t listen. Can’t blame me for what comes next.” With that, he began to toy with his fingers—delicate and smooth as jade, even more refined than a woman’s.

Some strange emotion gripped the crowd, like hamsters squeaking beneath the grip of fate, struggling wildly. Their eyes turned bloodshot, every person seemed to be muttering, every ear attuned to the murmurs of the rest. At the crescendo of chaos, slaughter erupted like a tidal wave. Even the gentlest women became rabid, tearing at those beside them, blood spraying, screams and animal savagery rising together, unchecked beneath the sky.

But at its core, even animal instinct discerns danger.

No one dared approach Lin Changtian, and he sought no one out. He only intervened when women and children nearby were about to be harmed; otherwise, his face betrayed no emotion.

At last, the demon’s feast reached its end. The youth ceased playing with his fingers and looked with curiosity at Lin Changtian, who stood alone amid a field of white bones, a few rescued children behind him. The youth was briefly perplexed, then a flash of realization brought excitement to his face. Yes, children’s instincts are weakest, so they won’t attack others. “Then let them destroy themselves,” the young demon declared with delight. He pointed from afar, and the children Lin Changtian had fought to protect bit through their own tongues in numb obedience. Those whose teeth were still soft could only grind away at their lives, blood and flesh flying, soaking Lin Changtian from head to toe.

The youth leapt upon his throne in ecstasy, all previous indolence gone, transformed in an instant.

Lin Changtian gripped the short blade in his hand so tightly his knuckles cracked, his eyes bloodshot as he stared at the youth. His face was deathly pale, and he gave a chilling smile. “May I ask your name?”

The youth grinned. “Yuheng. Lin Yuheng of the Lin family.”

Lin Changtian cradled the broken bodies of those few children, turning his back and walking out of the city. The Lin clan’s men moved to stop him, but Lin Yuheng waved them away. He murmured, “It’s been so long since I’ve found such an interesting prey. Let’s wait a while—this will be much more fun.”

...

In the hills behind Zhongzhou City, Lin Changtian built a few earthen graves, then knelt before them, mumbling to himself in a daze.

“In the sword techniques Master Yu Baili taught me, there’s a move that could cut him down and avenge you. But if I use it, I won’t survive either. Master said this land is full of evil men—I should clear out a few more before I go, shouldn’t I?”

No one answered Lin Changtian. Only a gentle breeze carried his words skyward, whispering softly to the immortals above.