The Little Village of Tanghai was it's name exactly - a little village inside of Tanghai. Though small, it remains bustling with busy streets, performances, and loud festivals. Currently, Xuan Cheng was staring it right in the face - which he shouldn't have been even looking at! He should've been dead! Permanently!
His first instinct was to scream his head off - out of joy or fear, he had no idea. Though, Xuan Cheng quickly suppressed this urge, and instead focused on stumbling forward until he finally made it on the dirt path leading into the village, the feeling foreign yet also strangely familiar under his bare feet. No one seemed to really pay attention to the odd man in tattered clothes hobbling around and gawking at everything like it was his first day on Earth.
... which, technically, it was, for all of the wrong reasons.
But Xuan Cheng's awe was that of nostalgia, and a warmth filled his un-beating heart as he soon came across a familiar stall. It's chicken broth was painfully spicy, and fond memories rushed forth at the mere thought of it. The people in said memories were nothing but blurry faces by this point, but Xuan Cheng's goal was to devour that broth - so his focus wasn't exactly on his past just yet.
"Steamed wontons here! Come and get them, test your spice tolerance with our famous broth! Tanghai's best chicken, here, here!" A man running the stall relentlessly advertised. Xuan Cheng didn't recognize this owner - from his fragmented memories, he could recall a polite elderly man who would wave customers nearby. Although, Xuan Cheng wondered just how long it'd been since his death - how much had things changed, menial or not.
He then realized he did not have any money. Wonderful.
Xuan Cheng heaved out a sigh, trudging about the dirt path with his head bowed. His hand came up to wipe leftover dirt off his cheek, locked in to the previous mindset he had of spoiled young master - one he now found would prove useless.
He found he was dragging himself along in a daze, lost in the fragments of his memories. His latest, locking eyes with ones that were an icy blue too beautiful for words - yet that seemed so sharp with hatred as a sword was driven into his chest. Xuan Cheng shuddered.
He then realized the true gravity of his situation. The only way Xuan Cheng could be wandering about now was if he was... a ghost.
Xuan Cheng nearly lost his footing. Dead? That just... how could... How could anyone accept that they were dead?!
No, he wasn't... He wasn't!
But why wasn't he hungry? If he had been buried for so long, shouldn't he be hungry? Thirsty? Dead? Xuan Cheng didn't want to accept the truth, but he knew it would only be futile.
Before he knew it, he was stumbling out of the village. The stalls no longer brought him warmth, as they were no longer recognizable as fond memories in his eyes. Just things he had long, long lost. Xuan Cheng didn't know how long it'd been since he'd died, and he didn't want to know.
But he did know that no one that would miss him was alive. No one that would care about his death to at least bury him properly - and not in the middle of some random field in a village - was on this earth.
Xuan Cheng felt a surge of bitterness rush to his heart. The blissful naivety of his life had faded - piece by agonizing piece, and for a long time, Xuan Cheng walked. He walked, and walked - far from the village. Night began to fall.
With each shaky breath, each puff of air from Xuan Cheng's cold lips were visible. If he was dead, would this count as just reflex? Did he even have lungs? Or had that, along with his heart, been ripped away too?
He sniffed, and paused in his steps. Xuan Cheng stared down at his feet, and it was then he understood why he had been brought back as a ghost on this wretched land. Why he had been brought back was not to cuss at the heavens, and it wasn't to make the world a better place or some bullshit like that.
He knew his purpose, now, was to avenge those he had lost. His jiejie, his father, and every other innocent person in his sect who had been so mercilessly slaughtered. Those silver eyes of his narrowed.
Xuan Cheng knew he would bathe Tanghai in blood, and that would only be the first.