The Fire Bloodline

Shar, the goddess of night, had taken Selune's place, covering the entire land. The bitter wind howled through the forest. Chen Jinyang wrapped himself in a blanket and crawled into his sleeping bag, gazing at the flickering campfire as he fell into thought.

In his previous life, Chen Jinyang had been a martial artist. He had trained both internally and externally, reaching the pinnacle of the grandmaster realm, and his Autumn-Water Yanling Saber had been peerless. But when he was young, he'd suffered an internal injury while fighting someone. To treat it, he'd sneaked into Golden Peak Temple to secretly learn Wild Ox Force, but accidentally injured several Wudang disciples. In his thirties, he'd been forced to leave the country and become a mercenary who made his living through violence.

Now, in this strange foreign land, he had been reborn in another body. What path should he take from here? His mind was a mess, and he couldn't make sense of anything, so Chen Jinyang simply closed his eyes and went to sleep.

As he drifted off, Chen Jinyang had a strange dream. In a haze, he became a simple-minded baby and grew up from infancy. Blurred figures of men and women, younger brothers and sisters, a limping old man, and countless other scenes passed before him. Then, as a boy, he was attacked by a ferocious monster bird with an eagle's wings and head and a lion's body. A fireball flew straight at him, and he became a human torch. Chen Jinyang felt as if he had become a fire spirit dancing amid the flames. His whole body was scorching hot, and he burned from head to toe.

Chen Jinyang jolted awake and sat up, only to find the blanket and sleeping bag beneath him burned to a heap of black ash. A strange, searing energy surged uncontrollably through his bare, flushed body. Recalling the dream, he realized it had been the life of a boy named William. The boy had been intellectually disabled, and his memories contained no language. He knew pitifully little about this world. Chen Jinyang had no idea what the hot current inside him was, though.

What he didn't know was that William had been born with a Sorcerer's bloodline. When he was struck by the Griffin's fireball—or perhaps it had been some other creature's—his Fire Bloodline awakened. The scorching energy attacked him from within and without, and his soul had dissipated; otherwise, Chen Jinyang would never have been able to possess his body. Now that he had fully merged with it, the Fire Bloodline had reawakened, restoring William's memories, while the inner fire had burst outward and burned his clothes and bedding.

As time passed, the hot current gradually settled and vanished into his bloodline. Once his body temperature had returned somewhat to normal, Chen Jinyang pulled on a hide and got up to practice.

Dawn began to break. Strange birds called throughout the forest, and a new day was about to begin.

Chen Jinyang practiced a set of punches in the clearing to loosen his muscles and joints, then began the San-Ti Stance. This body had never trained before, and its many joints and muscles were stiff and inflexible. It was difficult to get the movements and posture right. Relying on his memories of his previous life, Chen Jinyang slowly settled into position. He felt each inch of his spine from top to bottom as his center of gravity sank to his coccyx. His hair stood on end and his pores closed, as if the heat escaping from his body had been forced back inside. Suddenly, the current hidden in his bloodline surged up and spread throughout his body. Chen Jinyang felt his pores could no longer hold it in. He let out a shout and thrust his palm forward with the current, and a foot-long flame flashed into existence. Chen Jinyang was stunned. When he came to his senses, he felt refreshed and full of energy, with no discomfort at all.

Chen Jinyang tried the palm thrust and flame release a few more times, with the same result. The flames left black scorch marks on the wood, making him practically a miniature flamethrower. But afterward, his energy and stamina dropped considerably. By the fifth attempt, Chen Jinyang felt as if he'd been beaten black and blue; his whole body was weak.

After a few experiments, Chen Jinyang was delighted. He thought this might be the legendary power to control fire. This body really was gifted. As the saying went, "A martial artist with supernatural powers would give even the gods a headache." Heaven truly had treated him well. With such talent, how could his martial arts not reach new heights?

"Since Heaven has given me the chance to be reborn and start over, I'll reach the peak of the martial path and explore the divine realm of martial arts. From now on, I am both Chen Jinyang and William." After settling on his decision, Chen Jinyang ate a few pieces of cooked horse meat to fill his stomach, then found a place to practice the twelve forms of Xingyi Fist: dragon, tiger, monkey, horse, rooster, hawk, swallow, snake, alligator, Tai, eagle, and bear. He practiced them several times over, until it was nearly noon.

Chen Jinyang whittled a wooden spear, then went back to the river and speared more than a dozen fish. He roasted them and ate his fill, then tucked the remaining fish away. He packed up the tent, the leftover blanket, the portable backpack, and the sleeping bag, slung them over his back, picked up the wooden bucket, and set off along the path toward William's village with the wooden spear in hand.

William was a big, simple-minded fellow, an innocent, lovable fool like Forrest Gump. He had been intellectually disabled from birth. Though only sixteen, he was taller and bigger than anyone else in Gnome Village. William had strength to rival a Rothé and was naturally unafraid of ordinary fire. People said that if he weren't a fool, he would surely have become a powerful warrior or Sorcerer.

William had a fourteen-year-old younger brother and an eleven-year-old younger sister. When he was seven, their parents left the three siblings in the care of a limping old man from the village. He never saw them again. Three years later, the old man died. William, who had been as strong as an adult since childhood, became a lumberjack at ten, working alongside the village men to support his family. Though he wasn't bright, the kind people of the village had still given the siblings hope of making a life for themselves.

Lumberjacking wasn't a good job. Druids were hostile to the destruction of trees, though William sometimes went with the villagers to work as a laborer for passing adventurers.

The forest was full of dangers, and many people died there. Yet William always managed to survive, thanks to his unusually keen senses, which let him hear movements others couldn't detect. Often, he even rescued his companions—not by fighting, but with his extraordinary stamina and a pair of long legs that could run incredibly fast.

While the limping old man was alive, he'd once tried to train William as a warrior. But before long, he gave up. William had the potential to become strong, but his impaired mind made him too easy to exploit. The old man feared that William would end up losing his life because of it.

Since Chen Jinyang had survived in William's place, William's responsibilities were now his. Chen Jinyang had his own moral principles. William and his siblings had depended on one another to get by, and their lives had been extremely hard. It would be easy enough for Chen Jinyang to leave them behind and go his own way, but the two children would have an even harder time. If he did that, the regret might even become a mental obstacle on his martial path.

Gnome Village lay on the southern bank of the River Mirar, beneath Cliff Ridge, near the Long Road by the Hidden Forest. It was a stopping point on the Long Road between Mirabar and Longsaddle. Rather than a village, it was more like an inn. Its thirty-odd residents spent most of their time providing food and lodging for passing merchants and travelers.

William's fourteen-year-old younger brother, Alos, worked as a server at the village's only establishment, Sailu Tavern.

But at that moment, Alos stood slumped by the tavern entrance, red-rimmed eyes downcast. His once-bright red curls were messy and dull. The day before, two adventurers who'd escaped had told him that his brother William had been killed by an Ogre. Alos could hardly believe it.

That evening, after the villagers who'd gone out with William returned alive, they also claimed they'd seen him run toward the Ogre camp. Surely, they said, he couldn't have survived. Alos had lost all hope. He and his sister had cried at home all night.

It was already noon. The two adventurers had snuck away before dawn that morning, and the tavern was quiet, with only a few villagers who had nothing better to do drinking and chatting.

"Alos! Don't be sad! That's just how this world is. People die every day. May Lathander watch over poor William."

"Oh, poor Alos! Come have a drink! A fine rum will help you forget your troubles!"

"Sorry, gentlemen! I need to get home and bring Mishaer her lunch. Goodbye!" Coming back to himself, Alos wiped his eyes, ran into the kitchen, grabbed some pickled vegetables and a few slices of bread, tucked them into his shirt, and rushed out of the tavern.

"Alos, you little rascal! I'll take the cost of that bread out of your wages! Hurry back after you deliver it and get to work! And don't forget to say hello to little Mishaer for me!" the tavern owner shouted after him furiously.

"Thank you, Mr. Sailu! You're a good man!" Alos called back cheerfully without turning around, then ran off.

"Of course I'm a good man. Good old Sailu," the tavern owner, Sailu, muttered to himself, looking lonely and helpless.

"Poor siblings. Their older brother was a fool, and their younger sister was bedridden. Now that William is dead, Alos will have an even harder time. I wonder if little Mishaer will make it through this winter." The people in the tavern sighed sadly. That was simply the cruelty of this world. No one could change it—not when they had no power to do so.

As Chen Jinyang walked, he considered how to face William's family. He couldn't tell them the truth; they wouldn't understand his words, and he couldn't explain anyway. But if he said nothing, his behavior would obviously be wrong. Whether he spoke or stayed silent, neither would work. That left him only one option: pretend to be a fool.

"William was already a fool. If people ask me anything, I'll just act dumb and keep quiet. They won't be able to do anything about it."

"But how should I act dumb? Stick out my tongue, drool, roll my eyes? That's so crude; anyone could tell something was wrong. And for a grandmaster like me to make such tasteless gestures would be humiliating if word got out. A silly grin, a vacant smile—right! William usually just smiled foolishly, and he spoke in a stammer. I'll just smile and stay quiet. When I do speak, I'll stammer a few 'hmms.'" Chen Jinyang recalled the fools he'd seen in movies in his previous life and practiced chuckling—sometimes "hee-hee," sometimes "ha-ha"—to prepare for his future life as a fool.

Just as Chen Jinyang was immersed in the practice of "learning to be a fool," a group of uninvited guests began closing in from the surrounding forest.

Chen Jinyang's expression tightened. He stopped and looked around. What a perfect spot for an ambush! The trees were dense, the terrain complex, and enormous roots jutted out of the ground in every direction like low walls. A team caught here could easily be surrounded and split up. But for a lone expert, this was ideal terrain for fighting many opponents at once, without having to worry about being overwhelmed.

Chen Jinyang chose a spot, put down the bucket and large backpack, tucked a dagger into his belt, and held the wooden spear with its tip pointing down. Then he waited intently for the uninvited guests to reveal themselves.

Soon he got a clear look at the roadblock: dozens of filthy, wretched humanoid creatures. They stood upright on two legs and were only four or five feet tall. Their arms hung down to their knees, and their skin was reddish-yellow. They had broad faces, flat noses, pointed ears, wide mouths, sloping foreheads, and dull yellow eyes. A few wore mismatched leather armor and carried stone hammers with wooden handles and wooden shields. Most wore only small scraps of animal hide or tattered linen, and their weapons were a haphazard assortment of wooden spears, short clubs, animal bones, stones, and all sorts of other junk.

The biggest of them wore a horned helmet and a yellow-brown leather cuirass. He carried a rusty two-foot iron sword and looked like the leader.

They all had one thing in common: they were filthy and stank. William's memories were full of times they'd harassed him.

Goblins were an evil and cunning but naturally cowardly humanoid race that survived through looting and theft. They would sneak into lairs, villages, and even cities under cover of night, taking whatever they wanted.

They also ambushed travelers by the roadside or in the forest, stripping them of everything they owned—including their underwear.

Note: The Fire Bloodline is a power inherited from ancient ancestors such as fire giants, fire dragons, fire spirits, and other powerful beings associated with fire. Those who possess it can control fire more easily, becoming powerful yet hot-tempered spellcasters.