Myst, Might, Mayhem Chapter 1
Chapter 1: Opportunity (1)
Zhongliang County.
A massive assembly had formed within the marketplace.
From the middle-aged woman tending her snack stall to the laborer balancing a water jug on his shoulders, and even the children darting between the legs of passersby—everyone’s attention was fixed on a single point.
A lengthy convoy was currently cutting through the heart of the village’s main thoroughfare.
Creak! Creak!
The heavy groan of wooden spokes turning on the carriage wheels echoed through the air.
Positioned behind a line of vigilant guards, prisoners with bound limbs could be seen through the thick bars of wooden cages.
“Take a look at that.”
“Ugh. They are drenched in blood.”
The captives appeared gaunt and battered, their faces telling a story of brutal mistreatment.
The white fabric of their prisoner robes had been dyed a deep, morbid crimson.
Likely due to this sight, a heavy and suffocating silence settled over the villagers as they watched the procession pass.
The line of carriages moved slowly for some time.
Suddenly, an onlooker snatched a stone from the dirt and hurled it toward a cage.
“You vermin-like bastards!”
Thud!
“Urgh!”
Unable to dodge due to his restraints, a prisoner took the full force of the impact.
Witnessing the captive’s agony,
other spectators began grabbing whatever debris they could find to join in the assault.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Trapped within their wooden enclosures, the prisoners had no choice but to absorb the rain of projectiles.
“Filthy wretches!”
“Vile criminals!”
“Eat this and rot!”
The escorting guards made no effort to intervene.
Instead, they merely observed the chaos with sneers and mocking laughter.
After all, this was the entire point of a public prisoner transport.
It was a spectacle designed to broadcast their transgressions to the public.
“Hmm.”
From a second-story window of a nearby inn, a middle-aged man watched the scene unfold.
Seated across from him, a local county official sipped his tea and asked with a look of confusion.
“Why do you look at them so?”
These were lawbreakers, after all.
The man sitting before him did not seem like the type to waste pity on criminals.
In response, the middle-aged man shifted his gaze toward a specific cage.
Unlike the others, one prisoner was held in solitary confinement.
The chest and midsection of this captive were heavily stained with blood.
“He is quite young.”
The prisoner sat perfectly upright despite his tangled hair.
Though his features were partially hidden by the mess of locks, it was obvious at a glance that he was just a boy.
He looked to be no older than sixteen or seventeen.
‘…The same age as the Young Master.’
The sight of the youthful captive brought the image of his own Young Master to mind.
However, he quickly dismissed the thought with a shake of his head.
Age was irrelevant when it came to the commission of crimes.
The official, who had been studying the man’s reaction, spoke with a grave tone.
“It is hard to confirm until the day of execution, but despite his youth, his crimes are said to be the most heinous of the group.”
Intrigued, the middle-aged man inquired.
“What do you mean by that?”
“That brat you noted for his age is actually the most savage criminal being moved today.”
“The most savage?”
The middle-aged man could not hide his surprise.
What could a boy that young have done to earn such a reputation?
“…Did he kill someone?”
In the eyes of the law, the ultimate sin was high treason. However, traitors were usually transported with their specific crimes explicitly posted, which wasn't the case here.
That left only one other possibility for such a label.
Murder.
“Precisely.”
Upon hearing the official's confirmation, the middle-aged man let out a quiet breath.
To a commoner, murder was a terrifying rarity, but for a martial artist like himself, the cycle of killing was a daily reality.
The official clicked his tongue, observing the man's calm demeanor.
“Tsk tsk. As expected of a member of the Cultivation world, such news hardly moves you.”
“In this era, lives are lost every day.”
“Perhaps. But if you were aware of that boy's true nature…”
Thud!
Before the official could finish his sentence, a rock flew through the air and cracked against the boy's head inside the cage.
The crowd erupted in noise.
A stream of blood began to coat the boy's forehead.
Yet, unlike his fellow prisoners, the youth didn't flinch or cry out in pain.
“That boy is indeed an anomaly.”
“Is he incapable of feeling pain? To take a blow like that and not even…”
The middle-aged man's interest was now fully piqued.
‘That child…’
It was one thing for those who possessed Qi or had undergone rigorous physical training to endure such agony.
But this boy appeared to be a mere civilian.
Despite a stone hitting him hard enough to split skin, he hadn't uttered a single sound.
Furthermore, his absolute stillness was haunting.
Swish!
As the blood began to obscure his vision, the boy tilted his chin upward as if the liquid was a mere nuisance.
This movement cleared the hair from his face.
Gasps of shock rippled through the nearby crowd.
The official was equally stunned.
“Good heavens.”
Even masked by blood, his striking features were undeniable.
He possessed a refined, handsome face with delicate lines that gave him a rare, magnetic quality.
Strangely, his aura seemed soft—almost benevolent.
“How could someone with such a gentle face commit such atrocities…?”
The official was baffled.
Meanwhile, the middle-aged man stared at the young prisoner, his face pale with shock.
“You… what has come over you?”
The man flinched at the question and quickly regained his composure.
“…It is nothing.”
“Nothing?”
He tried to play it off, but his expression just a second ago had been one of pure disbelief.
Before the official could press him further, the middle-aged man rose from the table.
He stated,
“The tea was excellent. However, I have just remembered a pressing matter I must attend to.”
“My word. We only just sat down after all this time…”
“I must go. When we meet again, the drinks at Moon Fragrance Tower are on me.”
“Moon Fragrance Tower? Ahem, well then.”
The official’s lips curled into a faint smile at the mention of the place.
No man would turn down an invitation to the most prestigious establishment in the region.
***
As the chou hour neared its end in the pre-dawn darkness,
Inside the subterranean dungeons of the Zhongyang County office,
The majority of the inmates were deep in slumber, and even the sentries were dozing off against the cold stone walls.
In this quiet, only one soul remained awake.
It was the boy with the matted hair.
Locked within his cell, he stared vacantly at the stone before him.
‘…….’
Four days had passed since he regained consciousness after nearly dying.
A lot had changed in that short window.
Surviving was a miracle, but waking up in chains as a death-row inmate was a cruel twist of fate.
Worse, his execution date had already been finalized.
The sentence was death by 'quartering'.
A brutal end where one's limbs are tied to separate carts and pulled until the body is torn apart.
‘…A fitting end, I suppose.’
He had slaughtered so many that he had been branded the Sickle-slaying Demon.
No matter the justification, escaping the death penalty was impossible for someone like him.
Yet, looking into his eyes, one would find no trace of fear or regret.
Instead, his thoughts were elsewhere.
[What? Martial arts? Hey, kid. Have you ever actually encountered a martial artist?]
Those words from a fellow prisoner echoed in his mind.
It was the key to a question that had been haunting him.
‘Martial artists…’
He had heard tales of them while visiting the village with his grandfather.
Stories claimed they could outrun galloping horses and possessed inhuman strength by wielding something called Qi.
What he once thought were mere legends had proven to be terrifyingly real.
That man had nearly ended his life in a single heartbeat.
‘…The outcome would be no different if we fought again.’
No matter how many sleepless nights he spent analyzing it, he couldn't find a way to kill that man.
Traps, ambushes—none of it seemed sufficient.
That person was essentially a demon in human skin.
‘Is the power of a martial artist truly that absolute?’
If so, his vow to avenge his grandfather was nothing more than a pipe dream.
If he couldn't kill his enemy, no amount of effort mattered.
As he brooded, a realization struck him.
‘Martial arts.’
The only thing separating him from that man was a single factor.
The presence of Cultivation was the line between life and death.
The solution was simple.
‘I must acquire martial arts.’
If they stood on equal ground, the result would change.
He finally had his answer, but obstacles remained.
‘Two problems, actually.’
First, he had to escape this cage. If he stayed, he would be torn to pieces by carts.
Second, he had no way to learn.
‘Who would teach me?’
He needed a master, but he had no connections to that world.
Furthermore, even if he broke out, he would be a hunted fugitive.
Who would take a convicted murderer as a disciple?
‘…This is complicated.’
His thoughts were a mess once again.
He realized now that his grandfather’s warnings were correct.
Driven by vengeance, he had been too quick to reveal his lethal nature to the world.
‘I have walked right into my own trap.’
Regret was useless now; the damage was done.
The only silver lining was that the man likely believed he was dead—or perhaps he simply didn't care, knowing an execution was imminent.
Suddenly—
Swish!
A nearly imperceptible sound cut through the silence.
The boy shifted his weight.
Alerted by the anomaly, he held his breath and sharpened his senses.
‘What is that?’
Something caught his eye in the gloom.
A thin, mist-like vapor was drifting in from the lower right side of his cell.
His eyes narrowed.
‘A fire?’
He wondered if the prison was burning.
But he quickly dismissed the idea. There was no shouting, no panic—it was far too quiet.
Then—
Thud! Thud!
The sound of heavy objects hitting the floor reached him.
The noise originated from the guard station.
‘This is…’
The mist was now filling his cell. As the scent reached him, his mind immediately identified the components.
‘Lizard’s Tail… Female Ginseng, Gromwell Root, Scented Solomon’s Seal…’
Having spent a decade gathering herbs with his grandfather, his sense of smell was uncanny. He knew exactly what this smoke was.
‘…Sleeping incense.’
Gromwell and Solomon’s Seal were potent sedatives. Anyone inhaling this would be unconscious for at least two hours.
But the boy was an exception.
‘A crude mixture.’
Compared to his grandfather’s concoctions, this was weak. He had spent his life building an immunity to various toxins and herbs.
‘Hmm.’
Something was definitely happening. Someone had drugged the entire prison in the middle of the night.
The boy pressed his back against the wall and listened intently.
Swish! Swish!
The sound of muffled footsteps approached.
It was a sound so faint a normal person would never hear it, but it was clear to him.
‘Who could it be?’
The use of sleeping incense meant the intruders had a specific goal.
He could hear them moving through different sections of the block.
‘What are they looking for?’
Finally, the footsteps stopped right outside his bars.
The boy bowed his head, feigning a deep sleep.
Swish! Swish!
The intruder lingered at the door.
‘Is it me?’
Click!
The lock was picked and the door swung open.
‘…It is me.’
He was the target. His mind raced with possibilities.
Perhaps that man had sent someone to finish him off before the execution.
But why go through the trouble for a man already sentenced to die?
‘It doesn't matter.’
Whatever the reason, he was in danger. The boy kept his breathing shallow and rhythmic, mimicking a drugged slumber.
Swish! Swish!
The intruder stepped into the cell, moving with practiced stealth.
Even with his eyes shut, the boy could feel the person standing directly over him.
Tap!
A foot nudged him lightly—a test of his consciousness.
The boy remained limp, offering no reaction.
Satisfied, the intruder reached down and lifted the hair away from the boy’s face.
For a moment, the intruder’s breathing hitched.
‘……..’
He sensed a flicker of emotion.
His grandfather had taught him how to read the subtle shifts in a person's breath and posture to understand their heart.
‘Now!’
That momentary lapse was his opening. The boy surged upward, swinging the heavy wooden cangue around his wrists like a club.
Thud!
“Ugh!”
Caught off guard, the intruder took a blow to the chin and stumbled. The boy didn't hesitate, bringing the wooden frame down toward the person's skull.
In that split second, the intruder lashed out with a kick to the boy's stomach.
Thud!
As the boy was thrown back, the intruder’s fingers blurred, striking several points on his chest.
Tap tap tap tap tap!
Suddenly, the boy’s muscles locked. He couldn't move a finger.
As he processed this terrifying paralysis, the intruder spoke in a voice full of shock.
“How are you still awake?”