Dao Breaker

Chapter 1 - Where is Justice?

"Heaven begat the Founding Ancestor. He established the Dao of Law."

A lone voice began reciting a doggerel amidst the crackling flames feeding on the timber of nearby buildings.

"Human society is made of Law and Regulations. To break from society, is to break from the Dao!"

This voice belonged to that of an aged man. Although it was ragged and hoarse, the projection of his voice boomed across the streets littered with fresh corpses.

"The manipulation of Dao is what separates Mortals from Cultivators."

The speaker tapped his walking stick the entire time while speaking, as if keeping time. When his walking stick struck something with a dull thud, he stopped and fell to his knees.

"Though all under Heaven are ours to enjoy...

...we Mortals are but playthings for Cultivators."

The thing his walking stick struck was a human body.

As the old men knelt, several onlookers couldn't take it anymore and wailed in despair.

"O, Justice! Where under Heaven does Justice exist?!"

Bai Hua village was a small village comprised entirely of mortals. For this reason, they saw regular attacks from bandits who used this village as a resting point between Qicheng and Pao Mountain.

This recent bandit attack was lead by a prominent bandit warlord who was rumored to be a cultivator. The bodies of the young and old villagers who dared to resist were almost entirely due to his handiwork.

After quenching their bloodthirst, the robbers naturally wanted to quench their thirst for alcohol at the only tavern in the village.

A voice two octaves deeper than the average male register boomed.

"Do you not have anything other than this dog piss wine?!"

A jar of fresh wine crashed into the ground, spilling precious liquid everywhere. The unfortunate waiter could do nothing but tremble before the man's wrath. The body of the owner was already lying unconscious behind a heap of chairs.

"What are you standing there for?" cried a bandit. "Why aren't you bringing big brother his wine?!"

The waiter ran and fetched more jars of mouth-watering wine.

"Mmm, that's more like it." The bandit leader sniffed the aroma wafting from the opened jars. "Now... speak! Wine needs the accompaniment of poetry!"

All the bandits laughed cruelly as the waiter looked helplessly around. The jeers and glinting of the bandits' blades made it obvious who was to be doing the recitation.

"L-life," he began. The waiter was a peasant mortal, and thus received zero education. With his life endangered, he spoke the first thing on his mind.

"Life is a brutal, short dagger. One needs wine to dull its edges!"

"GOOD wine!" The bandit leader roared.

The waiter's life was ended as steel thrust into his heart. His fury was arbitrary, without reason. Power did not need a reason to be unleashed.

The bandits echoed cruel laughter befitting those of hyenas. Seeing this display, the tavern's occupants and the onlookers outside were full of grief and hopelessness.

"Where is Justice?" They cried to themselves. "Where is our hero?!"

"BASTARD!" A voice yelled from outside the tavern. It was a young male voice rife with righteous fury, and it began launching a torrent of insults at the tavern.