74 Arres

Gong Lan shivered as she woke. It was dark, and a musty smell assaulted her nostrils when she breathed. It was cold and damp where she lay, rough even. Definitely not a bed. Moving her legs, she heard the rattling of chains being dragged across a hard surface. Stone, if she wasn't mistaken. Her eyelashes fluttered as she finally looked around what appeared to be a dark cell.

She winced in pain as she sat up on her stone bed. Her ankles were bloodied and covered in sharp lines, a cruel reminder that at some point, she'd tried to force her way out of the iron fetters.

How did I get here? Why am I in a cell?

Blurry memories surfaced as she searched for the answer. She recalled a pickpocket taking an elder man's pouch. There was a chase. A group of hoodlums who were harassing a young woman. She remembered flashes of steel and a spray of blood. And then… nothing. She couldn't remember anything after that.

Despite the blood on her ankles, her usual despondency over the past months remained. After much trial and error, she'd discovered that it was other people's blood that she craved. She had thrown herself into many dangerous missions but had also botched many peaceful ones. After many months, her brother couldn't take it anymore and refused to give her further assignments. She couldn't blame him, of course. Her lust for blood was rapidly eroding his loyal client base. However, he had yet to realize the consequences of his actions.

At first, there were only a few extra brawls in the tavern she frequented. After a few weeks of collateral damage, she was banned from every tavern and bar in the city. As such, she was forced to drink alone. No one wanted to be around her when she was inebriated. After her only outlet was snatched away, her temper became increasingly volatile. Only Feng Ming and her brother could stand to visit her. Even then, they only came by once a week. After all, they were both busy men with full-time jobs.

Now she'd hit rock bottom. She had killed a few hooligans for pickpocketing. The punishment clearly didn't suit the crime, something she only realized in retrospect.

What do I do now? Do I wait here and rot in prison?

Her train of thought was derailed when she heard footsteps in the hallway. Keys jingled as the lock to her door clicked open.

"Visitor for prisoner Gong Lan," a dull voice intoned.

She couldn't see who it was, as the torchlight from the hallway was the first light she had seen since waking. A familiar-looking figure walked in, and the door closed behind him.

"You're a really impressive prisoner," the man said. "You've just gotten here and you're already in solitary confinement. Your reputation precedes you, Blood Queen."

Some blood queen, she thought. She was clothed in rags; her signature red leather armor had been stripped off by God knew who. Her treasured sabers were missing as well. Maybe that's for the best.

"You look dashing as always, Feng Ming," she said. "Have you come to grant me my last wish before they execute me?"

Feng Ming chuckled wryly. "That depends on the request. What would you have me do?"

"Me," she replied. Sadly, he had fought off all her attempts to date.

He chuckled again. "I'm afraid I can't help you there. Not only would your brother kill me, but those chains and the stone bed would make things very uncomfortable."

"You mean exciting?" she replied.

"And that is the third reason, the reason I've always turned you down in the first place," he said. "I think our definitions of excitement are very different. Anyway, I don't think they'll execute you. They'll likely keep you detained for many years. Your brother's too damn powerful, after all, so the city lord has no choice but to accommodate him. However, accommodation and capitulation are two completely different things."

In other words, he could reduce the punishment, but the punishment had to be severe enough to appease the masses. Anything less than her current punishment would greatly weaken the city lord's authority. Sparing her life was already giving her brother a lot of face.

"You need to take care of yourself," Feng Ming said. "I'm going on a mission in a couple days. It'll be a long one. Take this time away from killing to reflect on why it was that you got into this mess in the first place. What were you fighting for? I refuse to believe that the kind-hearted Gong Lan I first met would strive for power only to mindlessly slaughter innocents."

They sat in silence for a while, after which Feng Ming walked over to the steel door and knocked. He glanced at her once more before walking out.

I walked down this path to protect my friends. I tried my hardest not to be a failure, but now I've become the biggest of burdens. Father was right—I'll never amount to anything.

Thinking of her friends and family didn't help. It only made the thick walls and steel door that much more alienating. She felt so lonely suddenly, yet all she could do was suffer in silence.

***

A week passed. It was difficult to tell time in the dark cell, so instead she counted the meals she ate. Despite everything she'd heard about people getting themselves thrown in jail to get three square meals a day, the truth was disappointing. Every evening, the jailor would bring by a small chunk of meat, a pitcher of water, and a loaf of bread. To many people, this chunk of meat would be a godsend. However, that single meal was barely enough to sustain her. She wasn't used to starving like this, but she supposed she didn't deserve better.

Gong Lan had done much thinking over the past week. Memories constantly flashed before her eyes, memories that she'd forgotten. Sometimes they were about her father and the various beatings she'd received. Other times, she actually remembered the brutal scenes when she blacked out and went berserk, killing people with wild abandon. Every time a memory flashed by, her self-esteem plummeted.

What made things worse was that her brother had yet to visit. She hadn't seen anyone since Feng Ming last came. Such treatment only reaffirmed her initial conviction: that she was a dreadful failure, no matter what cultivation base she had.

She hadn't cultivated all this time. The Blood World Scripture might be powerful, but it had a dreadful side effect: Advancement could only be gained through slaughter and blood. Her next hurdle, establishing her foundation, would either require an unprecedented threat to her life or a special pill concocted from the blood of people and demon beasts alike. The process of consuming the pill would be no less dangerous than breaking through mid-battle. Either way, she would establish a perfect foundation.

A grating sound alerted her as a thin plate of food and a small bowl of water was slipped through an opening at the bottom of her door. The guard shut the opening as quickly as it had opened. This wasn't surprising, now that she remembered how she'd gotten put in solitary confinement in the first place. A few of the male prisoners had been harassing her, so she'd killed all of them with a teacup.

Death by teacup. A terrible way to go. Her solitary confinement was both for her own protection and for the other prisoners. More importantly, it was to protect the jailors. In the process of capturing her, she'd injured three guards and permanently maimed two others. Coincidentally, one of those two happened to be the guard who supervised solitary prisoners. She suspected that one meal a day was an exception rather than the rule, a punishment for her bad behavior.

Hours passed. She hadn't yet fallen asleep when she heard a loud crashing sound from above the ceiling, followed by shouting. Sounds of fighting ensued, and soon the door leading to the basement where she was located blew open. She heard a thump and the sound of a body crumpling, likely the maimed guard.

Who could be breaking into prison at this hour?

To her surprise, she heard the jingle of keys right outside her cell, and the steel door opened. A tall cloaked figure was looking down at her.

"Have you done enough thinking this past week?" a voice asked.

She recognized that voice. Her brother had come to break her out of prison! The very thought brought tears to her eyes. It seemed like her brother hadn't abandoned her after all.

"Let me see your fetters," Gong Wuling said softly. She obediently stretched out her legs, and her brother swiftly unlocked them.

"Come," he said. She followed after him as they traveled through the guardhouse, past twenty crumpled figures. They passed some prisoners on the way, but they didn't dare ask for rescue once they saw Gong Wuling's sharp gaze.

Soon, they were out of the city. Two horses were nicely tied up, their saddles full of provisions for what she could only assume was a long journey. A sudden bout of anxiety struck her as she looked everywhere but didn't see the familiar gleam of her sabers.

"Brother, my sabers are still in the city," she said worriedly.

"I have them with me, but you won't need them where we're going," he said calmly.

"Where are we going?" she asked nervously. Did they have to flee the country because of this prison break?

"To get you help," he said softly. "I know a man who works miracles. However, he lives in the mountains. Our journey will take many months, but I refuse to have you continue down this path of slaughter. So, while I'm bringing your sabers, I'm afraid you will never use them again."

***

Hong Xin hated her life. Months had passed, and she still hadn't managed to save up more than fifty silvers. She knew it was intentional, of course, a prolonged effort by the owner of the establishment to convince her to sell more than just her waitressing services.

It was not that she didn't make money. Rather, the misery of her situation caused her to drink it all away. She was now completely dependent on these few bottles every night, to the point that the friendly bartender now refused to serve her. As a result, she had no choice but to beg the owner, who would smile viciously and sell it to her at twice the price.

The customers today were rowdy and perverted, but she had long gotten used to their touchy behavior and their explicit words. She simply wore a fake smile as she walked around delivering orders. It had been over a month since she had tripped, not that the pay had gotten any better. The owner always found a way to grind her pay down to the bare minimum.

As the night passed by, she kept feeling that there was something missing.

Where is the usual harassment from the owner? she wondered. Has he finally dropped dead, or did he have a change of heart?

This was wishful thinking, of course. Later that evening, she finished cleaning up all the tables and sat down and started eating her meal. She waited for the owner to show up, since it was possible that he might confiscate her pay if she didn't wait for him. Soon, she heard the door to the kitchen open and saw the owner stumbling toward her. He was drunk. He pulled up a chair and sat beside her, staring at her in his usual disgusting manner.

"Did you bring my pay for the day?" she said crisply.

The man looked confused, then finally mumbled, "Why do you have to be that way? Aren't we friends? Can't we just chat?"

She looked at him warily. "We aren't friends, and no, I don't want to chat. I just want to get paid," she replied.

"Have you thought about my offer yet? I'll pay you double!" he said hoarsely.

Disgusted, she turned around to walk upstairs to her room. She wouldn't stay around and get treated like this, pay or no pay.

"I'll bring it up to you in a bit," he yelled.

A half hour passed by before she heard a loud knock on her door. As she opened it, the man forced himself inside the room and handed her a small pouch.

She poured out the contents of the pouch, only to discover thirty pieces of silver. She frowned before asking, "What is all this for? Why am I getting so much all of a sudden?"

The owner burped. "It's advance payment for tonight," he said. His face was flushed. His red eyes kept wandering around her beautiful figure, as though taking in a precious work of art.

She frowned. "I've already told you, I'm not having anything to do with your offer. Go to bed, you're being loathsome." She tried pushing him out, only to realize that he wouldn't budge. Instead, he forced her back against a wall.

"Why do you have to be so mean?" he muttered drunkenly. She wrinkled her nose as the smell of alcohol assaulted her senses. However, before she could push him away, she felt a hand pulling at the edges of her robe.

"What are you doing?" she yelled angrily. She moved to try and stop him, only to have his thick, meaty hand grab her wrist and force it against the wall. She paled as she realized she couldn't free herself of his grip.

He wouldn't dare force me to do anything, would he?

Yet before she knew it, both her wrists were caught up in his one meaty hand. He began grasping at her robe impatiently. It tore under his forceful approach, exposing her fair skin and one of her twin peaks. Her mind blanked. She couldn't think, and to make matters worse, she felt his meaty hand fondle her bare chest, which no one had touched before other than her mother.

Her legs were shaking. How can this be happening to me? She tried to scream, only to have a rag shoved into her mouth. He began unbuckling his pants with his free hand.

What do I do? What do I do? she thought frantically. She would rather die than experience this.

It was then that she remembered that she was a cultivator.

She gathered her burning qi and directed it to her raised hands, and a burning dragon shot out from them and hit the ceiling. The owner scrambled back quickly to avoid the falling debris. His previous lusty expression was replaced with fear.

"Spare me, spare me!" he yelled. He was now covered in sweat, but he hadn't had time to pull up his pants, which were down around his ankles.

She summoned a ball of flame into her hand as she looked down at him with a cold expression. "You deserve death," she said in a deadpan voice. First, she burned his little brother until it was nothing but a black pile of charcoal. His screams rang throughout the bar and into the night sky through the hole in the ceiling.

"You wanted to take me?" she said, her voice full of venom.

The owner's complexion was pale, but he could hardly speak from the shock of his burned extremity.

"Then let's see how you enjoy having someone else having their way with your body." She reduced her flames to the lowest possible intensity, and his skin bubbled as she roasted him alive, one limb at a time.

"I beg you! Please just kill me!" he yelled. She ignored his wailing and continued her grisly task. Soon he resembled a hog roasted on a spit.

"Kill me…" he croaked. Somehow, he hadn't lost consciousness. She ignored his plight and walked out of the room and grabbed the bag of coins on the way out. The corridor was filled with smoke. Her earlier attacks had lit the bar on fire, so time was not on her side.

She crossed the hallway into the owner's bedroom, where she found various pieces of jewelry, some banknotes , and a first-level spirit sword. She proceeded to the ground floor, which was completely deserted. Everyone had gone home for the night, and only the wifeless owner remained. She ran down the hall to where his office was and blasted the door inward. She then hastily gathered all the coins and banknotes she saw into a bag and tied it around her belt.

The creaking beams reminded her that the building could collapse at any moment. She ran out of the building, only to see several villagers gathered outside. They were the last people she wanted to face after killing a man. Some people moved to stop her and question her, but they stopped when they saw her torn robe and the tears streaming down her face.

So she ran out from the small town unimpeded, leaving thirty pieces of silver for a horse she stole before going on her way. She galloped out into the night, unsure of where to go.

Should I go back home? she thought. No, I'm nothing but a bother. I refuse the think the whole world is like this. I'll find a nice town that treats me with respect, where I can settle down and live my life in peace.