Only a Servant

After fiddling with the thin film of words for what felt like hours, I finally figured out how to make the gun disappear. It was strange, almost like folding a piece of paper into a smaller and smaller square until it vanished entirely. One moment, the Desert Eagle was in my hand, cold and heavy, and the next, it was gone, absorbed back into the glowing menu that hovered in front of me. The film of words flickered faintly, as if acknowledging the change, and then it too dissolved into nothingness, leaving me alone in the quiet of my room.

I stared at the empty space where the gun had been, my mind racing. What was this power? Where had it come from? And why me? I didn't have answers, only questions, each one more unsettling than the last. But there was no time to dwell on it. The sun was rising, and the day of the Spirit Awakening Ceremony was upon me.

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to move. I bathed quickly, the cold water doing little to wash away the unease that clung to me like a second skin. I dressed in the ceremonial robes—black and red, the colors of the Red River Clan—and stood before the mirror to adjust the fit. The fabric was heavy, embroidered with intricate patterns that shimmered faintly in the morning light. But it wasn't the robes that caught my attention. It was my reflection.

Somehow, I looked… different. Sharper. More defined. The bruises and swelling from yesterday were gone, of course, but it was more than that. My eyes seemed brighter, my posture straighter, as if some hidden fire had been lit inside me. I leaned closer, studying my face, searching for the boy who had been broken and humiliated just hours ago. But he was gone. In his place was someone else. Someone stronger. Someone… dangerous.

'This might change my path,' I thought, and for a moment, a smile tugged at the corners of my lips. But it didn't last. The memory of my brothers' laughter, their cruelty, their disdain, came rushing back, and the smile died before it could fully form. My stomach churned, and I swallowed hard, forcing the fear down. Today would be different. It had to be.

Stepping out of my room, I was hit by a wave of heat and humidity. The air was thick, oppressive, clinging to my skin like a wet blanket. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the courtyards as I made my way toward the ceremony grounds. The Red River Clan's compound was a maze of stone and wood, each courtyard more elaborate than the last, but today it felt different. The usual quiet had been replaced by a buzz of activity, a sense of anticipation that hung heavy in the air.

Servants scurried about, carrying trays of food and drink, while cultivators in their finest robes gathered in small groups, their voices low and serious. Today was the Spirit Awakening Ceremony, one of the most important events in Red Blood City. For many, it was a day of hope, of dreams fulfilled. For me, it was a day of dread.

I moved through the courtyards like a ghost, unseen and unacknowledged. No one greeted me. No one even looked my way. They all knew the truth. I had no spirit root. I was a failure. A disgrace. My presence at the ceremony was nothing more than a formality, a hollow gesture to maintain the illusion of tradition. But even so, I had to go. It was mandatory. And so, I walked, my footsteps echoing faintly against the stone, my heart pounding in my chest.

The ceremony grounds were already crowded when I arrived. A massive stage had been erected in the center, adorned with banners and symbols of the Red River Clan. The air was thick with the scent of incense and the murmur of voices. I scanned the crowd, my eyes darting from face to face, searching for my brothers. I didn't see them, but I could feel their presence, like a shadow lurking just out of sight. My stomach twisted, and I clenched my fists, trying to steady myself.

'You're nothing,' their voices seemed to whisper in my mind. 'A waste of flesh. A failure.'

I shook my head, trying to clear the thoughts, but they clung to me like a second skin. I didn't belong here. Not among these people, not in this world. And yet, as I stood there, surrounded by the buzz of anticipation, I felt something stir inside me. A spark. A flicker of defiance.

'This might change my path,' I thought again, and this time, the thought didn't fade. It burned, bright and fierce, like a flame in the darkness.

As I stepped into the ceremony grounds, the weight of their stares hit me like a physical blow. Dozens of eyes turned toward me, sharp and calculating, filled with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. They were all here to take part in the ceremony, young men and women from the lesser branches of the Red Blood Clan, their faces alight with hope and ambition. But when their gazes landed on me, that hope turned to something darker. Something cruel.

They knew who I was. Hou Chen, the seventh son of the Red River Clan. The failure. The one without a spirit root. And even though not a single one of them belonged to the main bloodline, even though they were nothing more than distant relatives and minor nobles, they still dared to look down on me. Their smirks were like knives, cutting into me, their whispers like poison, seeping into my ears.

"Look at him. The great Hou Chen. What a joke."

"No spirit root. Nothing. Just a waste of space."

"I heard even his own brothers beat him yesterday. Pathetic."

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms hard enough to draw blood. The anger burned inside me, a fire that threatened to consume everything in its path. But I forced it down, forced myself to breathe, to stay calm. I looked up at the sky, the sun blazing overhead, and made a silent vow.

'One day. One day I will teach them all. Every last one of them.'

The thought was a lifeline, a flicker of defiance in the face of their cruelty. But it was fragile, and I knew it. I took a deep breath, the air hot and heavy in my lungs, and tried to steady myself. Today would be hard. Today would be humiliating. But I would survive it. I had to.

"Hello, Sir Hou Chen," a voice called out, dripping with false sweetness. "It's been a pleasure meeting you. I never thought I would be in the presence of such a great character today."

I turned, my stomach twisting as I recognized the speaker. Gong Weiyuan, the son of my father's army general. He was about my age, with a thick nose and a smug grin that made my skin crawl. I knew him well. Too well. He used to follow me around like a loyal dog, his words dripping with sycophantic praise, his eyes always searching for a way to curry favor. But now? Now he looked at me with the same disdain as the others. Worse, even. There was a gleam in his eyes, a kind of malicious joy, as if he'd been waiting for this moment for years.

"Gong Weiyuan," I said, my voice flat. I didn't bother with pleasantries. There was no point.

He stepped closer, his grin widening. "Ah, you remember me! How kind of you, Sir Hou Chen. Though I must say, you look… different today. More… subdued. Is everything alright?"

The words were innocent enough, but the tone was anything but. It was a jab, a reminder of my humiliation, and it hit its mark. I felt the anger flare up again, hot and sharp, but I forced it down. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"I'm fine," I said, my voice cold. "But I'm sure you have more important things to worry about than me. The ceremony is about to start, after all."

He chuckled, a low, mocking sound that set my teeth on edge. "Oh, I'm not worried. Not like you, anyway. After all, I actually have a spirit root. Can't imagine what it must be like, standing here knowing you'll never amount to anything. Must be… difficult."

The words hung in the air between us, heavy and poisonous.

"Fuck off," I said in a low voice, the words slipping out before I could stop them. My tone was icy, sharp enough to cut through the thick, humid air. I didn't raise my voice, didn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me lose control, but the venom in my words was unmistakable. I turned away from him, my jaw clenched so tight it ached, and stared straight ahead. The ceremony grounds stretched out before me, a sea of polished stone and fluttering banners, but I barely saw any of it. My vision was narrowed, focused on the anger simmering inside me.

Gong Weiyuan froze, his smug grin faltering for just a moment. He hadn't expected that. Not from me. Not from the failure, the boy without a spirit root, the one everyone thought was too broken to fight back. But I wasn't that boy anymore. Not entirely. Something had changed. Something had awakened inside me, something dark and dangerous, and it wasn't going to let me be pushed around anymore.

He recovered quickly, his grin returning, but it was weaker now, less sure. "Oh, come now, Sir Hou Chen," he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "Is that any way to talk to someone who's just trying to be friendly? After all, we're all here to support you today. It's not every day we get to witness such a… unique performance."

The words were meant to sting, and they did. But I didn't let it show. I kept my face blank, my eyes fixed on the stage in the distance. He was trying to provoke me, to get a reaction, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Not again.

"He's still someone who works for my father," I thought, the realization grounding me. Gong Weiyuan might act like he was better than me now, but at the end of the day, he was nothing more than a servant. His father was my father's general, yes, but that didn't make him my equal. It didn't give him the right to talk to me like that. Not ever.

I turned back to him slowly, my eyes narrowing. "You forget your place, Gong Weiyuan," I said, my voice low and dangerous. "You might think you're something special now, but don't forget who you're talking to. I'm still the seventh son of the Red River Clan. And you? You're just the son of a general. A servant. Remember that."

His grin faltered again, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. He opened his mouth to respond, but I didn't give him the chance.