Burning in his lungs, air fills them to the brim for the first time. The midwife spanks the wrinkly bottom of the baby. Afterwards, loud crying can be heard. A healthy baby boy has been born. His mother stares lovingly at the little bundle of joy with loving eyes. A curious boy and girl sneak a peek at their new sibling.
"Your name is Peng Xing."
Two years later,
The baby boy is growing up nicely. However, there is something off about him. Peng Xing sometimes stares into the distance. When he started talking, he didn't start with easy, simple sentences. He just directly skipped to having dialogues. Another strange thing was that instead of yearning to play with enthusiasm, he played like it was something he had to do.
Four years later,
Little Peng Xing helps with the harvests. All his eccentricities are forgotten. He is now a contributing member of the village. He has great admiration for the lush green landscapes. The dense forest at the foot of the mountain, near the lake - whenever he had free time, he would visit these places.
Another four years pass.
Little Peng Xing is down with a fever. The village doesn't have a doctor. His father resists having a nervous breakdown. The man of the house keeps his cool and solves problems. Father lifts his child on his back and runs towards the nearest noteworthy town. On the road, a couple of bandits spot him. They allow him to pass by. This poor father and his sick son are not worthy of robbery.
When he arrives at the clinic, there are half a dozen other parents with a heaving child of their own. The stressful wait has started.
Meanwhile, several figures appear near the clinic. These people and animals have unnatural-looking smiles and vacant eyes. Humans among the figures are partly naked. That is not because they took their clothes off. It is because they didn't take their clothes off. The clothes have rotted while being worn. The figures didn't have a change of clothes since they became what they are. Folks would call them living apparitions. However, practitioners call them Dao entities.
When it is finally Peng Xing's turn, the doctor places his finger on the boy's wrist. From the tip of his finger, he sends a bit of energy through the boy's veins. A smile appears on the doctor's face. "This child has a spiritual root," the doctor exclaims. The sect rewards those who find out which children have a spiritual root. Also, people with spiritual roots are easier to treat. Unlike mortals, unless it's an inborn malady or a tumor, when given enough spiritual energy, their bodies heal on their own. Naive to what is about to happen, the doctor pushes the spiritual energy pill into the child's mouth.
A crack of thunder can be heard. At first, one would think, "Oh, it's going to rain." However, the doctor realizes it for what it is when every strand of his hair starts to stand. "THUNDER!" The doctor bellows. He picks up father Peng with a gusto and runs outside the clinic. Another sound of sky cracking, a flash of light melted the clinic's ceiling. Peng Xing pulls out the sword mounted on the wall and stabs it into the dirt ground. He then lies on his belly, trying to reduce his distance from the ground. In a display of macabre dance, living apparitions are unnaturally contorted and flown into the sky. They are circling the tribulation site. Down below, Peng Xing's impromptu lightning rod doesn't help much. The thunderstrikes either skipped the sword in its entirety or struck the sword and jumped from it to Peng Xing's body. However, these thunderstrikes didn't penetrate his flesh; they burned a pattern on his skin. There was a burn across his spine, two spiral burns on the back of his ribs, and a third eye-patterned burn on his forehead. Spiritual energy nearby rushed to fill the scar tissue and become the new skin there, making Peng Xing look as if he had tribal tattoos. Since the violent spiritual storm subsided, the dao entities scattered away, as if they were never there. Doctor, an affiliate member of the Shoushan Sect, immediately crushed the communication jade.
"This kind of extravagant event mustn't go unreported," the Doctor informed Father Peng with a solemn expression.
"Your son has spiritual roots, and by the looks of it, they are not something ordinary."
Father Peng became worried. "What does it mean, Doctor?"
It was hard for the Doctor to tell a father to give up his son. He rubbed his temples to muster up the courage to say what needed to be said. "Your child has grown beyond your ability to protect and take care of. He is a cultivator now."
Father Peng was filled with bittersweet joy. On one hand, his son might become one of those mighty cultivators who live for a long time and cleave mountains with a sword. On the other hand, he was his baby boy. Father Peng was in a dilemma. Peng Xing patted off the dust from his clothes and, with a loving smile, said, "Dad, Peng Xing is no more. I am stepping into a life of strife. My path is littered with human scum, the kind of scum that will stop at nothing to get to me. And if I am unreachable, the next best thing would be maiming you all. We can stop all this just by changing my name and minimizing relations with my family."
Subtle grief had overtaken Father Peng's face. He knew a man had to do what had to be done. His boy had become a man now, and he was doing a man's duty. He might never see his son again. It was his duty to support his son and stay strong.
"Cheer up, Dad. It's not as if I actually died. Think of it as me getting educated somewhere far away."
Wiping his tears, Father Peng kissed his son on the forehead.
In the distance, two youngsters in sect uniforms made their way toward the father and son duo. They were riding disc platforms adorned with a crystal at the bottom. There were holes across the edge that pulsed with technicolor lights, stabilizing the flight.
The big sister from the sect had curly auburn hair. She picked Peng Xing up, got on her disk, and lifted off. "My name is Xu Meilin. What is your name?"
Peng Xing smirked. "Wang Feng."