Chapter 1: The Blue Spirit
Legend of the Blue Spirit is shrouded in mystery. Never the less the story is still told to children as a bedtime story. The story is said to have begun on a night where the moon was just beginning its waning cycle.
XxxXxxX
"Father! Father!" he yelled as three people dressed in black armour, wielding swords, surrounded him. Outside of his room he could hear the clash of metal against metal and furniture being thrown. The three swordsmen began to circle him, slowly advancing. He looked to his left beyond one of the men's head at his Dao swords, mounting on the wall above his desk. The man followed his gaze, quickly realizing the intent. Before the swordsman could react, he dropped down and rolled underneath towards the swords hanging on the wall.
With the Dao swords in his hands, he whipped around to face the three swordsman. His eyes widened as he heard a shriek down the hall. He lunged towards the swordsman in front of him, the butt of the Dao swords hitting the middle of his throat. A gargle, barely audible, was heard. The swordsman was knocked out cold. He then pivoted to his right, refacing the swordsman who stood between him and his Dao swords. He dropped down, spun, and tripped the man, before twirling back up to face the last swordsman. The last swordsman looked at him before charging. He pivoted, barely missing the blade the swordsman was swinging, and raised his Dao swords. The blade of his Dao swords were aimed at the base of the swordsman's neck, with the intent of injury. He at the last second turned the sword, with the butt of the sword, to connect with the base of the neck. His accuracy was perfect. The swordsman's charge gained even more momentum causing the swordsman to crash into his desk, the desk where his Dao swords hung, before losing consciousness. The swordsman he had tripped just a moment ago cleared the stars from his vision. Before the swordsman could even survey his surroundings, iron metal, from the butt of the Dao swords, connected with his temple. He fell backwards with a loud thud.
Having defeat the attacking swordsmen, he rushed to his door. Sliding the door open he glanced, to his left then his right, before stepping out into the hallway. He heard another shriek and he, with one Dao sword in each hand, sprinted his way towards the courtyard.
He skidded to a complete halt at the scene before him. It seemed so surreal, his father, a highly respected swordsman, brought to his knees. His father, in his night robes, was bloody and bruised. The bags underneath his father's eyes became even more apparent as the skin become blue and black. He glanced across his father to his mother. She was in her night robes also, but they were stained with dirt and what looked to be drying blood. His mother's hands were bound behind her. Her eyes full of fear as she looked at his father.
"Found the bitch," a swordsman said, as he dragged someone into the courtyard. His anger rose, bringing him back to the reality happening in the courtyard. The swordsman shoved his sister onto the ground. Her hands bounded behind her, similar to his mother. His sister had streams of tears running down her face. Her night robes were ripped open, exposing her breast bindings. He quivered in anger.
How dare they touch my mother and sister in that manner!
He lunged at the swordsman. He was so full of anger he did not see the swordsman pull a dart. He was so full of anger he did not see the swordsman throw the dart, aiming for him. He was so full of anger he did not even know he had slipped into unconsciousness.
When he came to, it was total blackness. He was blindfolded. He tried to move but found he couldn't. He was tied to one of the many trees in the courtyard. He struggled, but the dart tainted with a knockout drug, slowed his movements. It made his limbs heavy.
"Do you, even with death at your door, still support Earth King Zhu Yunwen?" a voice said. He recognized the voice, it belonged to…it belonged to…
"Yes," his father said with confidence.
"Then you shall meet the Grim Reaper himself," spat the voice. Before he could even think, he heard the sound of metal slicing through skin. His mother wailed, the sound piercing into the night sky. The sounds of his sister's sobs became more apparent. Then he heard a slap, and the sobs stopped, before the sobs continued quietly.
"Dispose of the rest…wait," the voice commanded. He heard heavy footsteps. "Bring her to the traitor's room."
"Yes, commander," echoed the swordsmen. He judged from the sudden shuffle of footsteps, there were around fifteen people. His sister's sobs became hiccups and then the hiccups faded as she was dragged away. He strained his ears, he heard the clank of metal armour and then his sister's shriek. His mother's wails turned into quiet sobs. It finally dawned on him what became of his sister.
Time seemed to pass slowly. His mother's sobs echoed into the night. His wrists began to ache, the ropes digging into his flesh. Several footsteps came into the courtyard.
"Now you can dispose of them," the voice said. He heard the courtyard doors and slam shut. A few seconds later, he heard the swordsman drag his sister back into the courtyard. She was sobbing.
"Ok boys," one of the swordsman said, he must be the commander, "let's move."
He felt someone untie the blindfold. The sight laid before him brought his anger out. His sister's night robes now had bloodstains, her breast bindings had obviously been taken off and then quickly rewrapped. Her virtu taken by the person who killed their father, who was still laying in his own blood.
XxxXxxX
"Pull harder you scum," shouted the guard, "or this whip with be just the beginning of your pain!"
Today will be the last time you do that to me. He pulled leather rope, attached to a block of stone, it moved just a few centimeters. The guard cracked the whip almost connecting with his back.
"You're weak," spat the guard, "just like your father."
He tried to control his anger, but it nearly exploded.
"Stop," whispered someone next to him, "remember about tonight?" He looked over. The man next to him, nameless, was the one to keep him out of alot of trouble. He swallowed his anger and gritted his teeth. He continued to pull the block of stone, moving it centimeter by centimeter. By the end, his legs, back, and arm muscles ached with pain and fatigue.
"Hey," the nameless man said as he handed him a waterskin, "this might help for tonight."
Yes, he thought. Tonight, I escape this hell hole.
"Remember," the man continued, "if I don't...If I don't...I want you to tell my father I tried."
He nodded.
XxxXxxX
The barks of the dogs were right behind them. They both ran, destroying brush and having branches whack them from all directions. They could hear the guards shouting, still they continued. They came upon the river.
"Shit," he hissed. The river had risen from the rain, threatening to overflow the banks. The river's currents were moving too fast to safely navigate.
"Quick," the nameless man said, "the raft is here somewhere."
They both searched the nearby brush desperately looking for the makeshift raft. The raft they both risked so much to make. The raft took several weeks to assemble. They both had to trade their ration of bread for days just to get their hands on a few pieces of sturdy wood. The rope was took much more than bread. They nearly starved by the time all the materials were collected.
Uncovering the raft, they moved to the river. The guards were closing in, they could hear the yelling and the barks of the dogs. They pushed off the riverbank, their hopes rising. They had only gone a few meters down the river when an arrow whizzed by and sunk itself into the nameless man's right arm. Just as quickly, another flew by and dug itself into the man's left leg.
XxxXxxX
"Don't. It's too late."
NO! We couldn't have made it all this way to have you die here!
"It's ok," the nameless man whispered, "I didn't die in that hell hole, that's all that matters."
"No, you can't just die here. I don't even know your name."
"My name is-" the man didn't even finished, he was already gone.
XxxXxxX
He walked down the busy market of the lower Second Wall. Vendors trying to attract buyers to their wares. He just tipped his hat down to cover his eyes even more. Just trying to avoid unnecessary human contact.
"Young man," one of the vendors yelled to him, "are you in need of a mask?"
He looked up and raised his eyebrows.
"For the festival tonight," the vendor said, he was an old man. Gray hairs and signs of balding were apparent. The vendor had deep laugh lines but also deep crows' feet near his eyes, signs of hardship. "A young man such as yourself needs one in order to get the ladies," the old man continued.
"Do you have a Blue Spirit mask then," he asked. The old man's smile fell and sadness took over in his eyes.
"Young man," the happiness gone from the old man's voice, "my humble home is located in the lower Third Ring. Would you like to come for some tea?"
He nodded. The old man began to pack his wares into the worn out wickered basket at his feet.
XxxXxxX
The full moon illuminated the mask. A demon's face, dark blue with a haunting smile. Two large pointy teeth curving out, as a menacing warning, lined its haunting smile. The demon's intimidating eyes were rimmed with white paint. It was ugly to look at. The old vendor, now a surrogate father to him, gave it to him, it is something my son would have wanted you to have, he had said.
Tonight, he would use the mask to give justice to those, like the old vendor's son, who could not afford to pay their way through the corrupt system. Tonight, he would instill fear to those who supported the new Earth King Zhu Di. The man who murder many to sit on the throne. The man who took away innocence from those who were defenseless. The man who had destroyed his family. He climbed out of the window and onto the tiled rooftop. He pulled the mask over his face, assuming the role he had created for himself. He looked up to the moon, closed his eyes, and took a breath. This isn't revenge for what happened to me Father, please watch over me with pride.
He sprinted along the rooftop and leaped to the next rooftop without any sound, making his way up to the Upper Ring.
XxxXxxX
"Please! Please," the man said with fear, "take anything you want! Take even my daughter!" A little girl was pushed towards him. His wife looked at her husband with disbelief. Tears began to leak out of her eyes. He was disgusted.
How can you offer your daughter just like that, he thought to himself, you don't deserve to be a father! He walked forward, Dao swords drawn, towards the man, completely ignoring the quivering little girl. The wife tried to stop her tears and suppress her sobs.
"I saw what you did to those cabbage merchants today," he whispered, threatenly, "You are to return their daughters tomorrow," he raised one of his blades to the man's neck, "Or your daughter will not be the only thing you lose." The man's wife stopped silently sobbing. She looked to the man she called her husband and from the man wearing the Blue Spirit mask in horror. The man nodded, fear in his eyes.
"Y-e-s," the man quivered out, "a-an-anything you w-wa-want Bl-Blue S-Sp-Spirit."
"Remember, or I'll be back before you can even blink," the Blue Spirit hissed.
He made his way to the window. He stopped, whisked around and walked back to the family shaking in the corner. He grabbed the bag of gold coin sitting on the drawers. The family watched in silent. Before they could even blink, the Blue Spirit was gone. Vanished.
XxxXxxX
The commotion in the market was to early for his liking. He groaned.
"My daughter," a mother yelled out, "You're safe! Thank the heavens!" Tears of joy were not far behind. He just wanted to sleep in peace. The noise already woke him up. He sighed. Well now I can't sleep peacefully. He slipped the black clothings and the blue mask inside a worn wickered basket, and slid it underneath his bed. He hung his Dao swords in the back of his closet, behind all the tea serving aprons and uniforms.
He made his way down the stairs to the kitchen. The aroma of jasmine tea filled his senses.
"What a way to wake up huh?"
"Why do you say that" the old vendor asked knowingly, "Today is a joyous day! The cabbage vendor was reunited with her daughter."
He responded with only a nod.
"You know there are rumors spreading like fire that she was only returned because the Blue Spirit paid a visit" the old vendor continued, "The Blue Spirit sure is becoming popular."
He responded with another nod, "You know, I would actually like to drink some of that tea," he said pointing to the teapot in the old vendor's hands. The old vendor came over and poured him a cup of tea.
"You're probably hunger from all that running around," he said, "have this. The baker's wife thought you were getting to thin." The old vendor set a plate in front of him. He smiled. A simple gesture, like sharing a loaf of bread, brought him some sort of happiness.
XxxXxxX
The breeze gently rustled his hair. The night, silent, except for the occasional baby crying, was music to his ears. Tonight I shall seek justice once more, he thought to himself. He slipped on the blue mask, before setting off into a stealth run across the rooftops towards the Upper Ring.
XxxXxxX
Legend of the Blue Spirit is shrouded in mystery. Never the less the story is still told to children as a bedtime story. The story is said to have begun on a night where the moon was just beginning its waning cycle.