The sun was a searing eye in the sky, watching over the fields of the Azure Province. Beneath its gaze, the dust rose in clouds, sticking to the sweat-slicked skin of the workers. Among them was Li Chen.
His life had begun with a tragedy that he couldn't even remember. His mother had breathed her last while bringing him into this world of dirt and chains. Since then, he had known nothing but the cycle of labor.
He moved through the rows of crops with a practiced numbness. Cleaning, hauling, and harvesting were the only things he was taught. To the ones who ruled this land, he wasn't a person. He was a tool. Sometimes, he was even less than that.
The masters of this land were a strange, beautiful, and cruel people. They called themselves the High Race. They were taller than any human, with skin that seemed to glow like polished jade even under the harsh sun.
Their hair was almost always a shimmering gold or silver, and their most striking feature was their ears. They were long and tapered into sharp points that reached toward the sky. They looked like creatures from a fairy tale, but to Li Chen, they were demons in divine skin.
"Hey, you slave bitch."
Li Chen stopped his work. A man stood before him, looking down with eyes the color of cold sapphires. His long blonde hair was tied back with a silk ribbon. He looked like a masterpiece, but his expression was twisted with disgust.
"My boots are filthy from this wretched dirt," the man said, pointing at his feet. "Lick them clean."
Li Chen didn't hesitate. To hesitate was to invite a slow death. He dropped to his knees, his face nearing the dirt-covered leather. Just as he leaned in to follow the humiliating order, a heavy boot slammed into his jaw.
The world spun. Li Chen felt his teeth rattle as he flew backward. He hit the ground hard, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth.
"You vermin," the man spat, wiping his boot on the grass as if Li Chen's face had made it even dirtier. "You dare touch me with that filth? Learn your place."
The man walked away, laughing with a group of women who had been watching. The women had spent many afternoons touching Li Chen's body. He didn't understand why they did it, and he didn't care. To him, they were just another part of the scenery he had to endure.
He lay in the dirt for a moment, staring at the sky with eyes that were hollow and void of emotion. He didn't feel angry; He also didn't feel sadness. Slowly, he pushed himself up and went back to work.
Suddenly, a loud, metallic bang echoed across the valley.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
It was the bell. It was the sound that dictated every movement of their lives.
'They probably have something new for us to suffer through,' Li Chen thought.
He stood up, his legs heavy, and joined the stream of hundreds of other slaves. They ran. If you were late to the gathering, they would use the whip.
They gathered in a wide, stone-paved square. Standing on a raised platform was a high race man with short, pale hair and a mask covering the lower half of his face. His eyes were sharp, scanning the crowd like a hawk looking for a weak rabbit.
"Attention!" the masked man shouted. His voice carried a strange vibration that made the slaves' chests ache. "The Higher Race has a new directive. The fields are no longer your priority. All of you are to gather at the southern ridge."
He pointed toward the jagged mountains that loomed over the province.
"You will enter the mines. You will dig. You will find the Spirit Stones we require. Do not stop until you are told. Do not stop until you die. Any man who slows down the quota will be fed to the hounds."
The slaves were herded like cattle toward the dark maw of the mountain. One by one, they were handed heavy iron pickaxes. When it was Li Chen's turn, the weight of the tool nearly pulled his arm from its socket. He gripped the wooden handle and stepped into the darkness.
Inside, the air was thick with soot and the smell of damp earth. Torches flickered on the walls, casting long, dancing shadows.
As he swung his pickaxe against the hard rock, a man moved closer to him. It was an older man named Zhao Wei; someone Li Chen had shared bread with a few times.
"Hey, kid," Zhao Wei whispered, his voice raspy from the dust. "Did you hear the rumors from the kitchens?"
"What rumors?" Li Chen asked, his breath coming in short gasps.
"The high race... they're going to war. Something is happening in the deeper parts of the Jianghu. They need the stones to fuel their weapons."
Li Chen wiped sweat from his brow, leaving a streak of black soot. "A war? What a perfect way for us to lose our lives. If they don't kill us here."
Zhao Wei nodded grimly, but he quickly went back to digging. A high race overseer was walking past, a long, barbed whip coiled at his waist. Every time the slaves spoke too long, the whip would crack, leaving a trail of shredded skin.
Hours blurred into an eternity of strikes. Swing, impact, vibration. Li Chen's hands bled, the skin tearing and forming new calluses over old ones. By the time they were allowed to leave, the moon was high in the sky.
They weren't given huts or beds. They were led to a patch of cold, hard earth outside the mine entrance. Each slave was given a single, thin piece of fabric to cover themselves.
Li Chen lay down, the fabric doing nothing to block the biting chill of the night wind. His jaw still throbbed from the kick. His back ached from the labor. He looked up at the stars, the same stars the Higher Race claimed belonged only to them.
'It would be better,' Li Chen thought as his eyes slowly closed, 'if every last one of them died.'