In the middle of a forest where the rain was pouring heavily, there was sunlight, but because of the clouds and the fog, the sunlight was very weak, giving you a feeling of depression and sadness. The rain that fell on the large tree leaves slid downward and dropped dew onto strands of white hair, like threads of silk made of pure white snow, light and extremely soft.
Although the water fell on his hair, some of it slid down his pale face. He was breathing with great difficulty as he sat beside a tree. He raised his head to look at the sky, but all he could see were clouds and rain.
His eyes appeared filled with sorrow, a rich and enchanting violet color, deep purple at the center and lighter at the edges, reflecting different shades of purple, giving them a three-dimensional and detailed effect. His gaze looked as if he were waiting for something.
After looking for a short time, he lowered his head to see his clothes, which should have been white but were now covered in blood. He raised his head again and sighed. His breathing was irregular, and his face was pale. Despite that, he gripped the sword tightly and then tried to stand. It was difficult because of the severe pain. Everything in his body was heavy and painful, but he clenched his teeth and began walking slowly.
There were sounds of men shouting:
"There are blood traces! Search more, he can't escape, hurry!"
When he heard that, he smiled mockingly.
All of this began ten years ago.
My life was beautiful.
I had a mother, a father, and four brothers, and I was the fourth son. My relationship with my first and second brothers was good, but it was not like real brothers, rather like colleagues. As for my third and fifth brothers, they were much worse.
My father was the son of the leader of the "Red Water" clan, and my mother was the daughter of the leader of the "Purple Mist" clan.
My mother and father were strong; both were the best sword users and were distinguished by strength and intelligence. It had never happened that the leader of the Purple Mist Sect allowed anyone in the sect to marry someone from another sect, but what happened happened, and my mother married my father. Of course, everyone looked at the miracle child who would have the power and prestige of the Purple Mist Sect and the strength and flexibility of the Red Sea Sect. Everyone expected that there would be a child who could be the strongest in the world and carry the name of the two strongest sects.
But contrary to expectations, the first son wanted to become a doctor. Everyone objected to this, but no one could speak because of my mother and father. Some lost hope, but when my second brother was born, they regained it. However, that did not last long when my second brother decided to become a swordsmith. For the second time, everyone objected madly, but my mother and father agreed, and no one could refuse after that.
Then came my third brother, and everyone had high expectations of him, even the sect leader. And indeed, my third brother was strong and loved the sword, or so I thought. When my third brother reached the age of three, my mother gave birth to me. Because I was a small child, everyone was interested in me.
What made everyone more interested was that at the age of five I could speak fluently. That made everyone believe that I was a genius. Four years later, I was training with my father when a man wearing a black cloak came and spoke. When I looked at my father, his face showed that he was annoyed or angry. After the man sat down, he began to speak.
My father and mother were sitting beside me when the man said:
"I don't know how to say this, but in truth, the elder saw… a vision… a vision about your son, Lang Bioln."
The man paused in the middle of his words, but that only made my father angrier. He spoke loudly and angrily:
"What is wrong with Bioln?"
The man became afraid and spoke quickly:
"Well, in truth, your son will be useless. He will never be able to use the sword."
When I heard that, I felt pain in my heart, as if lightning had struck my entire body. I could not speak, or cry, or even look at my father or mother. After ten seconds of silence, my father finally spoke:
"Well, I was expecting that to happen."
But after he spoke, I wished he had not said anything. I was only nine years old, so I did not truly understand much.
Days passed. Although I was sad, my mother told me that I should not listen to that talkative man and that I should continue training with the sword because it was something I loved. And indeed, I did that.
But everyone began to treat me in the worst way. I heard them describing me as a useless failure.
It was strange that the people I used to laugh with and my dearest friends now avoided me and said bad things about me. I started skipping sword training just to avoid hearing them. And when I went, I was completely alone. I saw those eyes looking at me as if I were someone who did not belong there.
Days passed, and the day of "The Master Choosing His Disciple" arrived. There were seven masters, and one of them was called "Parki Wang," known as the "Water Sword." He chose one disciple every year, and it was known that all his disciples became successful. If you were chosen, that meant you would become a great person in the future.
Parki Wang cared about me a lot, which made everyone believe that perhaps I would become his disciple. Everyone told me that Master Parki Wang would choose me as his disciple. But after they heard what would happen to me, they began laughing at what they had said before.
Despite that, I continued training. My only hope was to become his disciple. It was not that I truly wanted him, but it was like the last hope for success.
But on that day, when I looked at him, he looked at me and then turned his gaze away. I felt shock and fear. I only wished that hope would not disappear, but it vanished like lightning when Parki Wang said:
"The disciple I have chosen is Lang Liu."
When I heard my third brother's name, my last hope shattered. I tried not to show it. The clan leader was present, as well as the ministers and my father. But when everyone began whispering things like:
"I expected this,"
"Of course he wouldn't choose Lang Bioln,"
"Poor Lang Bioln,"
fear and sadness began to appear on my face.
I tried to speak with those who wanted to encourage me with words.
What made it worse was that the "Light Master" offered to take me as his disciple. This master was known for taking weak students and making them clean and cook—in other words, servants.
I could not refuse his offer, even though he embarrassed me in front of everyone when he said:
"It's alright, I'm sure you will become a good head servant."
After he said that, everyone began laughing.
I could not respond, even though I was thinking how despicable and foolish he was, but something stopped me from replying to him. Perhaps it was fear of the reaction of others. So I remained completely silent, dissatisfied with my weak personality.
I wished that the day had ended.