Faraway Wanderers

Chapter 1. Tian Chuang

[Warning: mild gore.]

Plum blossoms flourished in the courtyard, falling everywhere on the
ground, on the snow that was yet to melt, blending together at first glance.
The petals were blown around the yard leisurely by the wind.

Dusk fell like a curtain, and on the eaves the moon was as cold as water.

At the far back of the small courtyard, half hidden by the plum blossom tree
was a corner gate, looking like it had been there for a long time. Guarded by
two well-built men steeled in armors and weapons, inside the door was a
distinctly large space. The veranda was narrow and cramped, towering over
a stone-paved path which led into a pitch-black prison. The atmosphere was
somber and heavy with the stench of death.

The faint smell of the blossoms was seemingly cut off by the door, unable
to reach this place at all.

More guards inside with various weapons stood stock still; the bars of the
cells they were protecting as thick as a grown man’s arm.
Following the dark, narrow path further inside the prison would be met with
three large stone doors with mechanisms inside, each carefully guarded.

Behind those doors was completely devoid of mortal life, as if the long path
leading here had been the road to the underworld full of wronged souls, lit
up by flickering lights that looked like will-o’-wisps.

In the cell at the end of the prison, there was a low male voice saying
something, followed by a short silence and ostensibly a tired sigh.

Suddenly, a piercing scream cut through the pitch darkness in the prison,
dimming the light for a split second. The scream was terribly ear-splitting,
like that of a dying animal, giving any human soul the chills.

One of the two guards outside with their back towards the cell seemed to be
fresh blood with his young, inexperienced expressions. He could not help
but shiver after hearing the scream, but a glance at his companion showed
the other playing deaf, standing as straight as a mountain; so he too
recomposed and looked down.

But that scream just got shriller and went on longer, the person kept
screaming until their voice gave out and their breath became short, and
eventually the scream became moans and sobs, further evidence of their
misery.

The newcomer felt continuous goosebumps on his body.
After about an hour1
, the sound finally died down. A short time passed by
until a middle-aged man was dragged out by two people, looking half dead.

His arms were bare, head lolled to one side, hair sweat-soaked, lips bitten
raw, blood foaming at the corner of his mouth, no visible injuries save for
the seven major acupuncture points on his stomach and chest, which were
stabbed into by deep crimson nails. It looked like a horrifying map.

The young guard couldn’t help but follow the man with his eyes until he
disappeared behind a stone door.

At that moment, someone behind him said, “Do you have regrets now,
having seen that?”
He visibly shook with fear, turning back to see a man in turquoise robes
silently appearing behind him for heavens knew how long. The other guard
had already knelt, so he quickly followed suit, “My lord.”

The man in robes seemed to be in his late twenties, carrying himself with a
scholarly grace, but there were traces of sickness on his complexion.
His face was sharp, eyes bright, thick eyelashes seemingly hiding half of his
face when he looked down, which was a common habit.

The rare times the man looked up, a chilling cold in his eyes could be seen. The addition of an
elegance slope of nose and a contemptuous curl of lips was a treacherous
touch to his handsome look.