A muscular warrior carried a huge black sword on his back as he advanced up the mountains. Ruefully smiling to himself, he slowly trudged across the snowy path.
"Mother...do you remember...you used to love the snow?" he spoke softly.
Crying silently, he trudged forward. His tears froze on his cheeks as he moved forward, sluggish and disoriented. Growling, he steadied himself on the blade. Gripping it's hilt, he staggered forward.
{In the village}
"Help!" a voice called.
"Help!"
"Help!"
"Help!"
Numerous villagers gathered around the entrance of the village. Four men, carried a large gurney, supporting it via poles on their shoulders. On the gurney lay a large man with black armor and a black broadsword across his body.
"We found him passed out on our herb excursions," one of the men cried.
"Oh how pitiful..."
"Poor man..."
"He seems to be frozen to death..."
"Is he even alive?"
"Who knows?"
"Should we call a doctor?"
"Maybe...but it's no use if he's dead..."
"Right... Dr. Wang is usually very busy..."
"Especially in the winter..."
"We'll have to keep him in a house until the doctor can spare time to come see him then,"
"I'll do it," a voice called from the back.
The villagers turned towards him. Fang sat on a wicker chair, smiling faintly to himself. Pleased to be relieved of the responsibility, the villagers quickly agreed.
"Are you sure you can take care of it?" the village elder asked Fang.
Smiling, Fang nodded his assent. Hoisting up the gurney, the herb-gathering company and Fang proceeded to Fang's house. It was a ramshackle building, but a spacious one. Placing him near a hearth, the men bid Fang farewell. And so he sat down and waited, a teacup in hand.
Gasping the man shot up. Fang calmly sipped on his tea. As if noticing his presence for the first time the man immediately turned towards Fang with a hostile look in his eyes.
"Relax my friend. I took care of you after you passed out on the mountains," Fang spoke.
The man relaxed visibly, although an intense look still inhabited his eyes. Smiling ruefully, Fang offered the man some tea. The man gratefully accepted it, sipping cautiously. Years of hardship had taught him to be careful when dealing with strangers.
Fang sipped his tea silently. Setting down the cup, he sighed.
"So, what personal quest brings you out here?" he asked.
The man flinched, visibly shocked from this enigmatic figure's astute observation. Frowning slightly, he spoke.
"Why do you ask?" he replied.
Fang simply smiled. It was a warm smile, one that would melt even the staunchest of hearts and minds.
"I do not wish you harm my friend. I simply wish to hear your story," he spoke after a length of time.
"My name is Zhang Ye. I'm part of the Sword Sect of Everlasting Night. Or at least I used to be. Now, that sect is nothing more than a memory in this faded heart of mine..." the man sighed.
Raising a questioning eyebrow, Fang said nothing. Zhang Ye continued.
"It was a peaceful and idyllic life I led. How naive I was at that time. But all good things must come to an end, right?" he laughed mirthlessly.
"Under the cover of night, our sect was assaulted by demons. Cultivators with terrifying strength came to our sect and wiped out the entire sect," Zhang Ye continued.
Looking up with his dark eyes, he spoke in a low tone.
"I am the only survivor, destined to hunt down those who have wronged me," he spoke in between ragged breaths.
Fang frowned, although he was overtaken with delight from inside. This was it...this man... was the PERFECT candidate to receive an overpowered system!
Revenge quest? Check!
Pathetic Weakness? Check!
Rapid Growth? Check!
Odd/Extravagant Behavior? Check!
Zhang Ye was the perfect candidate! Grinning, he sent out a pulse to confirm his guess. A dark light flashed in the center of the man's chest. It glowed with a dark power as if it were somehow a black void of nothingness within his core.
Smiling, Fang sucked inwards. A large gust of Qi flew towards him as the dark system began to be sucked towards his mouth. The man, oblivious to any change, grew puzzled over Fang's actions.
Fang inhaled deeply and swallowed the system. A cool and refreshing feeling spread throughout his body. Smiling, he allowed it to permeate every inch of his body. Then he dealt with the matter at hand: how to deal with this pesky protagonist.
Now Fang was not unsympathetic to Zhang Ye's woes. In fact he believed in his cause and knew that it was a just one. However, if one were to look at this logically, they would come to a similar conclusion as he had.
Say that Zhang Ye was allowed to grow and flourish. This would mean that eventually he would annihilate an entire sect! Judging from what he had told Fang, this sect was likely quite powerful. This meant that there would a massive amount of collateral damage. And cultivators were notorious for leaving behind destroyed wastelands in the wake of their battles. Destroying an entire sect would also leave behind such a large power vacuum that the entire country would be embroiled in a pseudo-civil war! Similar to a gang war, this could be disastrous for civilians and cultivators alike. So the best thing to do would be to ignore this silly little personal vendetta.
For the good of all involved, it was best to end this matter quickly. Standing up, he guided Zhang Ye out of his house. They went on a walk, towards the forest.
As soon as they entered the clearing, Fang ruthlessly stabbed the man through the heart. With a gurgle and a shocked gasp, Zhang Ye died. Sighing, Fang cleaned his blade. Throwing a match forward, he burnt the body, leaving only ashes behind.
As he returned to the village, he kept a serene look on his face. Assuring the villagers that the man had gone to continue his journey and that he was in good condition to do so, he returned to his house.
There was a sharp tingling feeling in his chest, as if something was about to break free. Sitting down, Fang began to meditate.