Title: Prologue
Hey there, wanderer. You’ve found your way to the beginning of this tale. That’s good—because what’s ahead is a story that’ll make you laugh, cry, and probably question the sanity of anyone foolish enough to challenge the heavens themselves. Spoiler alert: that fool is me.
Let’s take it step by step, shall we?
Let’s not sugarcoat it. Blackstone isn’t exactly a paradise. Imagine a tiny speck of dirt clinging to the foot of a mountain, where people work themselves to the bone to satisfy their overlords. The Qingcheng Sect owns this place, the same way a farmer owns a plot of land. And us? We’re nothing more than crops to be harvested.
Everyone knows their role: keep your head down, meet your quotas, and don’t cause trouble. But for me? Something about spending my entire life on my knees just didn’t sit right. Call it stubbornness, call it stupidity, call it whatever you like—I was born to stand tall.
Surely you’ve heard of them, the so-called guardians of harmony and order. These are the names people speak with awe or, more often than not, fear. They’ve got grand banners, towering temples, and disciples who can shatter mountains with a single sword stroke.
But don’t let their talk of righteousness fool you. Their hands are dirtier than a beggar’s rags.
Take the Qingcheng Sect, for example. Their philosophy? Precision and subtlety, like a breeze weaving through the forest. Sounds poetic, doesn’t it? Now picture that same breeze slitting your throat while you’re fast asleep.
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Tribute. Such a fancy way of saying, “Pay up, or else.” Every season, the village gathers whatever the Sect demands—be it crops, silk, or something else and hands it over with a forced smile. It’s a performance, really. You bow, they take, and everyone pretends this is just the way things are.
But just because something’s normal doesn’t mean it’s right.
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Sect (门派 Mén Pài):
A group of martial artists who function like kingdoms without thrones. They govern their territories, enforce their rules, and hold the power of life and death over those in their domain.
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Tribute (贡品 Gòng Pǐn):
The price of living under a Sect’s so-called “protection.” Fail to deliver, and you’d better either have an army or a death wish.
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Freedom (自由 Zì Yóu):
The thing I keep chasing. The thing they keep taking away. Simple as that.
- Hei Tianmo: Hay Tee-an-moh
- Qingcheng Sect: Ching-cheng Pai
- Mount Qingcheng: Ching-cheng Shan
- Blackstone Village: Pretty self-explanatory—unless you’ve been sampling too many Qi-infused mushrooms.
- Hei Tianmo (黑天魔):
- Age: 12
- Realm: Third-Rate Warrior (barely).
- Personality: Reckless, stubborn, and probably a bit too sarcastic for his own good.
- Quirk: Always has something to say—even when he’d be better off keeping quiet.
Pro Tip:
Never trust a Sect, no matter how polished their robes or noble their words may seem. They’ll smile at you while sharpening the knife meant for your back.
—Hei Tianmo, Fool Extraordinaire