God's Descent in the Magical City

Chapter 1: Buried Alive

Alai's head throbbed with pain as he slowly regained consciousness. The back of his head, where he had been struck, ached terribly. His thoughts were fuzzy, and he struggled to clear the fog clouding his mind.

His mouth was gagged with a thick towel, preventing him from making any sound. Forcing his eyes open, he found himself crammed into the trunk of an SUV. His entire body was tightly bound with rough hemp ropes, leaving him unable to move. The vehicle was speeding down a rugged mountain road, and each jolt sent waves of pain through his body. He could feel the ropes cutting into his skin, desperately hoping that the friction would eventually wear them down.

After what felt like an eternity, the SUV finally came to a stop.

The trunk was thrown open, and through his blurred vision, Alai saw a man with a pig-like face and a twisted scar on his sunburnt skin. The man wore sunglasses and had a cruel expression that made Alai's blood run cold.

"Scarface!"

Alai gasped in horror, quickly crossing his eyes and pretending to be dead.

Scarface looked him over and cursed, "Damn brat! Not dead yet, huh? I've killed nine people before you; with you, it'll be ten. Just accept your fate!"

With that, Scarface roughly dragged him out of the trunk and threw him onto the ground.

Alai found himself in a desolate cemetery surrounded by a sparse grove of trees. Scarface removed his sunglasses and tossed his shirt aside, revealing muscular, dark arms. He spat into his palms, rubbed them together, and began digging a pit with a shovel, sweat pouring from his brow.

Before long, the pit was ready.

Scarface grabbed Alai and threw him into the pit, leaving him curled up at the bottom.

Panting heavily, Scarface took a break, pulling out a pack of expensive cigarettes from his pocket. He lit one and sat down, puffing away as he stared at Alai's "corpse."

"You poor bastard," he muttered. "Still giving me the evil eye, are you? Believe me, I can pop those eyes of yours right out! You only have yourself to blame—saw things you shouldn't have seen, heard things you shouldn't have heard."

Alai, hearing his words and seeing the man's increasingly vicious expression, focused even harder on playing dead. He used the meditation techniques taught by Master Kong, holding his breath and slowing his heartbeat, lying motionless with his eyes rolled back.

Scarface continued smoking leisurely, rubbing his swollen face as he seemed lost in thought. With a sigh, he walked over to Alai, squatted down, and pulled his eyelids closed.

"Rest in peace. Life and death are fated, wealth and honor decreed by heaven. The sooner you die, the sooner you'll be reborn. Maybe in your next life, you'll be born into a rich family, and you won't have to work like a dog for others like me."

"Rumble!"

The sky darkened ominously, thick clouds roiling as thunder rumbled deeply, like a beast struggling against ancient chains. The world grew dark as ink.

Scarface looked up, muttering, "Don't blame me; it's just business. I've got no choice, just following orders."

He took a few more drags of his cigarette, then stubbed it out forcefully with his foot. Standing up, he grabbed the shovel and began piling dirt and rocks onto Alai's body.

Alai had already realized that Scarface was a strong, burly man in his thirties, with a cruel streak to match his brute strength. Bound as he was, Alai knew that any sign of life would earn him a fatal blow to the head.