He awoke to the smell of rancour in the air and foul-smelling piss. The sound of loud, rough voices and the muffled sobbing of little children filled his ears. The blurry sights of movements in the dark.
I'm…n-not dead??
Shaken he took several deep breaths.
Inhale…exhale…inhale…exhale…
And repeat.
Confusion still amid his mind, the boy opened his eyes and observed the scene in front of him, ignoring the cold, metal-like feeling against his neck.
What he saw alarmed him, and what was most notable was not their shuddering forms and solemn expressions. Nor was it the dirty rags and faded clothes that they wore.
It was the dull handcuffs and the collars around their necks that caught him off guard.
His stomach sank as he realised that the cold metal around his neck was a collar, and that coiled around his hands were the exact same handcuffs that the children around him wore.
Panicking he tried squeezing his hands out of the handcuffs and shaking his collar, as if it would magically fall apart. Some of the children noticed the commotion but did nothing but watch.
His attempts to free himself were futile, garnering some sneers and scoffs. He paused, taking in shaky breaths, with a million questions running through his mind.
What?Where?Why?
He checked himself.
Bruises and scars enveloped his body-skinnier than he remembered, no longer packed with lean muscle. His hands shrunk, rough with callouses, and his height and his legs were shorter than before.
But how? This was not the body he was familiar with, nor the clothes that he wore. Where were his black denims and hoodies? This was not the place he should be, trapped in chains among children.
The man-no, boy opened his mouth to speak. Hardly did a sound came out that his head was assaulted by excruciating pain. As if thousands of thousands of needles were all stabbing his head at once.
The memories of a young white-haired boy came flooding in.
Blurry images of the boy's childhood days.
A glimpse of a mature brunette lady, age marring her otherwise benevolent face and twinkling onyx eyes.
An albino blue-eyed man, rugged and half-naked, working and tilling the fields.
The boy brawling with his peers under the summer sun. Frolicking in the mud and chasing butterflies. Swimming in the sea; collecting seaweed and seashells.
Playing make-believe, imitating the heroes and villains of Jianghu, with nothing but his imagination and a wooden sword.
The memories shifted.
The white-haired boy emerged again - no longer a child but not yet a man. Responsibilities were taken, feeding the farm animals and seeding the fields.
No longer playing make-believe, but still listening eagerly to the legends of Jianghu, of martial eyes wide at the tale of immortals that could leap over mountains and rivers, commanding the wind and rain.
Visiting the bustling markets, haggling for fish and bread.
Busy, but peaceful.
Without a warning, the scene shifted again.
Fire and smoke engulfed the scene.
Fire had burned its way through the land, ravaging both people and buildings alike. Blazing and roaring, the flames, raged without mercy. Like a snake, the smoke choked and eked the life out of the people and animals.
Chaos thrived. Dogs barked. Horses neighed.
Shouts of despair and pleas for mercy were drowned out by the cruel, sadistic laughter's of unkempt men. Vile swords and sharp axes met their victims, drenched in blood. Metallic clangs rang in the background.
The father fell in mortal combat and so too did the mother. Frightened and alone, he ran and ran.
Before getting far, the boy tripped, alerting the scarlet-bandana bandits. Like a pack of wolves, they zoned in onto him.
A bolt of lightning struck him with fear. Entangled roots bounded his legs.
The scenes shifted several times again.
An ice fairy untainted of secular affairs.
Dirty taverns of bustling folks; rumours and hearty tales exchanged.
Orphans, street rats and beggars crowding the alleyways.
Monks begging for alms.
Handsome men and beautiful women soaring through the skies.
The pain stopped as the floodgates rescinded. The man, now a boy, filtered through his 'new' memories. A name, both unfamiliar and familiar to him, popped up.
'Dongfang Yeqiu'.
The 'boy' combed through his newly gained memories; some of his questions already answered. But even more were left unanswered, and new ones sprang up.
Is this a dream, or is this real?
Have I really been transmigrated?
Do they know yet? Are…are they...will they be fine?
/
A few weeks of travelling, the man turned boy had adjusted quickly, adopting the identity of Dongfang Yeqiu. Once an adolescent on the cusp of adulthood, now he was a farmer's boy turned slave.
The old 'Dongfang Yeqiu' grew up in Maple Leaf village. A small village where everyone practically knew everyone. Born in autumn, 'he' was named Yeqiu (autumn leaves). He lived happily and carefreely, often dreaming of becoming a hero of Jianghu. However, peaceful times do not last long.
His family slain. His village in flames. Himself in chains.
After passing through multiple hands he was now bound to this band of criminals.
The 'new' Dongfang Yeqiu secretly vowed that if the time comes, he would exact revenge so that 'his soul' could rest easy. To do this meant that he needed strength. Hardly possible for a child in chains.
Prolonged silence inside the carriage contrasted with the rash and vulgar laughter's outside.
Come daybreak, the horses pulling the wooden wagons marched onwards leaving behind trail marks. When the sun rose to its zenith, the slavers made camp. Rabbit meat sizzled atop the campfire, its scent wafting in the air. Fish were caught and roasted. Waterskins were filled whenever they passed flowing streams.
Unlike the villainous men outside who ate and drank heartily, the children gnawed on tree barks, roots and a few berries here and there. He did not rashly follow for fear of poison and discomfort. Instead he tested and confirmed them before sustaining himself on the wild. Tough, chewy bark and roots appeased his stomach somewhat. Juicy berries not filling enough and meat more of a luxury.
/
Dongfang Yeqiu felt conflicted.
Excited to explore the world at large. To see its beauty and nature. To be something that he could only dream of ever being. To roam Jianghu, upholding justice whenever possible, bringing the anvil down on all evils in the world.
Nervous and panicked.
Is this a dream, or is it real? What fate awaits him as he lies here in chains?
Would he forever be a slave, an object and not a person? Would his 'new life' be short-lived? Perhaps sacrificed to some demonic sects or serve under some cruel, vicious master? Perhaps, if he does die, he'll wake up in the 'real' world.
Nevertheless, his senses recognized this world as his new reality. The chirping and tweeting of passing birds. The foul stench in the air and constant barbarous laughter. Bitter roots and cold, dull metal. Dead fish eyes staring blankly; awaiting their possibly grim fate...
He had gained some knowledge of this martial world. Cultivators existed divided into righteous and demonic.
/
The Grand Dao Temple took the helm of the righteous faction, with similar reputations of the Shaolin Monks on Earth. He gathered that they also practiced Buddha arts, going on pilgrimages and begging for alms.
The Qixing Alliance, The Ancient Arts Pavilion and the Myriad Weapons Pavilion were also major factions within the martial world. The Qixing Alliance were made up of several sects such as the Snow Lotus Sect, maidens of pristine ice and the Sunset Crows Sect, made up of handsome and fiery youths.
About the others, he took some guesses. The Ancient Arts Pavilion seemed to cultivate in the four scholarly arts of ancient China: Qin, Qi, Shu, and Hua (Music, Go, Calligraphy and Painting) whilst the Myriad Weapons Pavilion sounded like weapon fanatics.
The Beggar sect, a common sect within the cultivation novels that he had read, also appeared in this world. Though the novels he had read and the titbits in the memories, they seemed to be chaotic neutral.
/
Autumn…Winter…Spring.
Originally 19, they dwindled to 13.
Cause of death: Illness; Starvation; Cold or beaten to death.
Himself, 7 other boys and 5 girls had survived the winter. Biologically, the oldest was 13, the youngest now 7. They huddled like penguins, rubbing hands and the like. Nevertheless, Winter's cold breath had sent shivers down his spine.
It was during this journey that he had understood the need for social interactions. In his past life, he had disdained it, perfectly happy to stay within his room to read fantasy novels and play games of interest.
He told stories of Meng Hao's journey through immortality and his companions: The Gentleman Lord Fifth who could only count up to nine, the 'Meat Jelly' who vowed to convert every immoral being and could only count up to 3, and the brave, loyal Blood Mastiff, a demonic beast. Their journey was full of twists and turns, of sharp humour and equally sharp wits, of shamelessness and loyalty.
He told them legends of Mulan; of when War was on the horizons Mulan took up the mantle of a soldier herself since her brother was still a child and her father an old man. Of how, disguised as a man, she became renowned throughout the War, climbing up to the ranks of a General, and when they were victorious, she only asked the Emperor if she could return home. And it wasn't till the end of the long, gruelling war that the soldiers under her command realized that she was a woman and not a man.
He told them more of beautiful princesses and heroes with humble origins, of the romance between the Beauty and the Beast, and of other heroines and heroes embarking on their individual quests like the Legends of Korra or the Legends of Zelda.
It was through stories of Jianghu, of Legends and Fairy tales, of titbits from another world that gave the children the comfort they so dearly needed. The air became lighter, no longer as grim as before. The food became more appetizing to say the least. The children had somewhat forgotten their dire circumstances, their faces knowing joy and sorrow once more in equal measures.
/
In the carriage...
Several children crowded around a small white-haired boy, their faces marked with dirt and eyes eagerly awaiting the next story. An aloof boy, purple hair and onyx eyes, sat on the outermost edge seemingly uninterested but ear still perked up. A redhead smiling wistfully at the younger children woefully remembering yesteryears.
Holding their attention, Dongfang Yeqiu crossed his legs, eyes closed and reminisced stories and legends of Earth.
Hmmm...what story should I tell next? Already done a few princess and wuxia stories. Hmmm…ah! I know. This'll do it.
Sky blue eyes twinkled in amusement.
He asked, "Have you heard of the 12 Zodiacs?" Heads shook. "No? Anyone?" Silence and a few headshakes were the answer.
His face grew serious, his voice low. "In the ancient times, there was a Jade Emperor. His fame and benevolence spread far and wide…. He issued the order for The Great Race that all animals within the realm was to participate. At the starting line 12 animals turned up; a pig, a dog, a rooster, a monkey, a sheep, a horse, a snake, a dragon, a rabbit, a tiger, an ox and a rat. Can you guess who came first?"
"Obviously, the dragon's going to win. Hmmph!" declared a boy as quietly as he could.
"No, the tiger! Rawrrr" snarled the youngest girl. Her little face scrunched up, her hands forming claws in the air. A kitten pretending to be a tiger.
Dongfang Yeqiu lightly chuckled, before talking again, "As a reward for turning up, the Emperor rewarded them by naming each year after their zodiac position. The race determined their order.
In this course, there was a mighty river that every creature, large or small, had to cross. The rat cleverly persuaded the kind ox to ride it whilst navigating the deep waters. Without a 'Thank you', the rat dashed to the finishing line, followed by the ox. And so, the rat came 1st, the ox 2nd.
The tiger was fast, but the river drove him a little-off course. Thus, he finished 3rd.
The rabbit tired and exhausted, nearly drowned" 'Gasp!' 'Oh no!' "But fear not, for she managed to latch onto a drifting log." 'Yay!'
"A sudden gust of wind. Whoosh! She safely finished 4th. The dragon, kind and mighty didn't hesitate to extinguish a fire that was endangering the lives of nearby villagers. When he returned, he saw the rabbit struggling and gave her a little help." "Awww!" "The rabbit never learned who came to her aid and the dragon was content strolling after her into the 5th position."
"Hmmph! The dragon only lost because he was helping others!"
Ignoring the slight interruption, he continued. "In 6th place was the snake, who unbeknownst to the horse had coiled herself around a leg. Startling the horse, she slithered into 6th place when nearing the finishing line. With the horse 7th, only the 8th to the 12th were yet to be filled. The sheep, monkey and rooster created a raft together to brave the choppy river. Once on the other side they each dashed towards the end. The sheep came 8th, monkey 9th and the rooster 10th. The dog was more interested in playing in the puddles and mud than crossing the river. Thus, it came 11th, allowing the other 10 overcome him. The pig naturally came last, but why?"
"Ish a pig! Fat and lazy!" scoffed a girl.
"Hah! Close but not quite! The pig got hungry, ate so much and fell asleep. Before the day could end, the pig woke up, crossing last."
/
So far, Dongfang Yeqiu had preserved through these chilling nights and rough treatments alongside the other 12. He could not help but wonder if this was, but a dream? A vain dream, where from the ashes of tragedy, his brilliance shines through to dominate the World of Jianghu. To match blow to blow with hidden dragons and crouching tigers, armed with a sharp, fiery sword and even sharper wits? To profit from disaster every time they struck and rise each time to greater heights. Perhaps he could amass a harem of beauties and wealth, stomping on arrogant young masters and misses? Perhaps he may one day be Number One Under The Heavens?!
Am I like Zhuang Zi? Dreaming of becoming a man or a man dreaming of becoming a butterfly?
He pondered these thoughts, often questioning the reality of his enslaved status. Deep down though he had already taken solace in living a relatively tranquil life in a modern era.
How… can I-we escape these chains?
"Life must be understood backward.
But it must live forward"
~ Søren Kierkegaard