This Mortal World is Too Bitter

The north wind howled, whipping up a thousand drifts of snow.

Under the dim, overcast sky, two small, thin figures huddled in the corner of a street wall. The biting wind and swirling snow lashed at them incessantly, leaving both shivering violently.

They were two young beggars, aged eight or nine, dressed in rags and thin as skeletons. Their small faces were flushed an unnatural shade of purplish-red, and beneath their flimsy straw sandals, their toes were already swollen and frostbitten.

The pile of firewood in front of them had long since been covered by a thick layer of snow.

They had set up their stall all day, yet no one had shown any interest.

As night fell, the passersby grew even scarcer; if they didn't make a sale soon, they would likely freeze to death in this icy wasteland.

The boy tremblingly pulled half a hard, blackened bun from his tunic and stiffly offered it to the girl leaning against his shoulder. Just as he was about to speak, a sudden gust of wind surged, and the snowflakes instantly blinded him.

"Eat some of the bun, quickly."

The boy said, rubbing his eyes.

His hands were red and blue, covered in chilblains and emitting a faint, foul odor.

"Brother Changming, you haven't eaten in two days. You should eat this half; otherwise, neither of us will make it back to the temple..."

The disheveled, gaunt girl shook her head weakly.

Her voice was faint and listless. No sooner had she finished speaking than a strange flush flashed across her face, followed by her frail back trembling violently. She hunched over like a shrimp, clutching her throat and gasping for air.

The girl's asthma was acting up.

Fortunately, her luck held this time; the gale suddenly ceased, and after the boy patted her back repeatedly, she returned to normal.

The boy's nose was running from the cold. He shoved the hard, black bun toward the girl and said nonchalantly, "Eat it. If we can't sell these bundles of wood today, we'll just take them back to the temple and burn them."

With that, he looked at the empty street, his gaze dimming.

This snowfall was heavy, and the clouds were as thick as lead; it would likely continue until noon tomorrow. Aside from this half-bun, they had exhausted all their supplies. Whether they could survive this long, snowy night was anyone's guess.

The girl took a bite of the bun, but suddenly her breathing grew rapid, and she spat it out in one go.

Hoo... hoo...

The girl's shoulders trembled, and pain filled her eyes, yet she reached out with difficulty to grab the small piece of bun from the snow.

This bun was their life; not a crumb could be wasted.

The boy was quick-witted and fast-handed; he snatched the bun and threw it into his mouth, chewing it with relish.

"Sister Linger, I'll eat this dirty bun..." The boy smiled as if no one else were around, shrugging his shoulders. "You hurry up and eat, then we'll head back."

Looking at the boy's soot-covered face, the girl bit into the bun in silence. After only two chews, tears suddenly gushed out, and she burst into a loud sob.

The boy was instantly flustered, at a loss for what to do.

Tears streaming down like broken beads, the girl wailed, "This world is too bitter. I won't come back in the next life..."

The boy fell silent.

The cold wind bit into his chest, making his heart ache as if it were being sliced by a knife.

Sister Linger had once lived in luxury, but her family fortune had declined, and later, her parents had been killed by treacherous men.

The boy's original name was Chen Changan. His parents had died in a natural disaster, and he had relied on his grandmother since he was three.

Because of a black mole on his foot, he was considered a sign of a short life, so he was renamed Chen Changming.

When he was seven, his grandmother passed away from illness.

Now, Chen Changming was nine; though still a child, he had already been wandering for two years.

Su Linger had been thrown into a dry well by villains, and Chen Changming had saved her. The two children had been relying on each other for half a year now.

"Sister Linger, don't worry. Once the snow stops, I'll find a way to catch a pheasant for you to have a treat."

After a moment of silence, the boy spoke slowly.

He had been at the bottom of society since he was young and was used to a life of poverty; as long as he had a breath left, he would not despair of life.

He had endured hunger, starvation, and freezing cold many times before.

"I'll take this wood."

A drunkard came swaying toward them, his face flushed red. He grabbed the firewood with one hand, looking down at the two children with an arrogant expression.

He was tall and fat, sitting like a small mountain in front of the two children.

"Three copper coins."

Upon seeing the drunkard, Chen Changming's heart skipped a beat. This Ma San was a rascal of Xiliang City—lazy and shiftless, he specialized in bullying the weak, old, and disabled on this street. He never paid for anything he took and would resort to fists and kicks at the slightest provocation.

In normal times, Chen Changming would have swallowed his pride.

It was just a bundle of wood; he would have given it to Ma San.

He wasn't worth beating up over a bundle of wood, especially since he only reached Ma San's waist and had no power to resist.

But today was different. This bundle of wood was his lifeline; if he couldn't trade it for copper coins, he and Linger would freeze to death in the temple.

"You little bastard, you dare ask for money?"

Ma San glared, his eyes flashing with a vicious light as he raised a fist the size of a wine jar, ready to smash it down.

The youth slowly rose to his feet, his face devoid of fear, and said neither servilely nor overbearingly, "Three copper coins, or nine steamed buns."

Seeing the youth refuse to back down, Ma San flew into a rage. His fist whistled through the air as he brought it down, sneering, "You little bastard, you've got some nerve, daring to ask me, Master Ma, for money!"

Had that punch landed, Chen Changming would have been left dead or at least severely crippled.

"Master Ma, please... please just take the firewood, we don't want the money..."

A timid voice rang out.

The gaunt Linger struggled to her feet, kneeling on the ground and kowtowing repeatedly.

"Haha, you little black-skinned girl, at least you've got some sense!"

Looking at that thin, small figure, a lecherous glint flashed in Ma San's eyes. He turned his fist into a claw, grabbed Linger by the shoulder, and hoisted her up in one go.

With his other hand, he snatched up the dry firewood, turned around, and walked away with a boisterous laugh.

"Let me go!"

Linger's face turned deathly pale, and in her panic, she flailed her arms and legs in the air.

But she was far too thin and small; how could she possibly break free from the grip of a tall, burly man?

"This is too much bullying..."

The youth's body trembled, rage surging in his eyes as he took a deep breath and drew a wood-chopping knife from behind his back.

The biting wind and heavy snow filling the sky could not suppress the boiling blood in his veins.

With every step the youth took, his aura grew a fraction stronger.

Ma San sensed something and looked back. Seeing the youth approaching with a wood-chopping knife, he first froze, then mocked, "You little runt, are you tired of living? In the territory of Xiliang City, you dare to draw a blade on me?!"

The youth pressed his thin, purple-bruised lips together and kept walking, step by step.

He knew that Ma San could bully others and dominate the market in Xiliang City for so long because someone was backing him. But now that his sister Linger had been snatched away, he had to save her, no matter what.

When they were ten feet apart, the youth suddenly accelerated, brandishing the knife as he slashed fiercely at the burly man.

It was the exact motion used for chopping wood.

For the youth, this movement had been honed through thousands of repetitions, making it incredibly proficient.

But this was the first time he had ever used it to strike a person.

Although Chen Changming moved quickly, to Ma San, who had a rough grasp of martial arts, it looked like slow motion. A sneer appeared in his eyes as he suddenly launched a flying kick, striking the youth in the chest with lightning speed.

Puff!

The youth spat blood, his entire body slamming heavily into the snowy ground.

The bluestone slabs beneath the snow were hard and cold, dealing him a brutal secondary injury.

Despite the injury, the wood-chopping knife did not leave his hand.

Cough, cough...

Chen Changming lay on the snowy ground, looking up at the snowflakes falling frantically from the leaden clouds. His eyes were unfocused, and blood continued to seep from the corners of his mouth.

"I can't beat him..."

The youth sighed deeply in his heart. With the wind and snow howling, he felt colder than ever.

He was too weak; this scoundrel crushed him in every possible way.

"Haha!"

Ma San laughed wildly, "You little bastard, weren't you acting all tough? Why don't you come and chop me now?"

"Brother Changming!"

Watching the youth lying in a pool of blood, Linger's eyes were wide with agony as she struggled desperately, letting out a hysterical scream.

The sky grew increasingly bleak.

The bone-chilling wind grew more violent, whipping up countless snowflakes and sweeping frantically across the frozen world.

The street was empty.

As the shrill cry reached his ears, Chen Changming summoned his last shred of strength. Using the knife to support his body, he slowly stood up.

This sight made Ma San freeze.

He had not expected this severely injured youth to be able to stand up in such bitter, freezing weather.

Huff, huff!

The youth panted heavily, taking heavy steps while gripping the wood-chopping knife tightly. He stared fixedly at Ma San, tears streaming from his tiger-like eyes.

"Sister Linger, you were right. This world is too bitter; I don't want to come back in the next life..."

The youth smiled miserably, his eyes blood-red, blood flowing ceaselessly from his mouth.

"Haha, you two pieces of trash, you should have died a long time ago!"

Ma San looked up and laughed at the sky. Hearing the youth's words, he felt exceptionally satisfied.

The heavily wounded youth managed only a few steps before collapsing.

"Is this the end..."

The youth let out a long sigh, a sense of relief suddenly rising in his heart. Yet, seeing that arrogant smile amidst the snowflakes, he still raised his woodcutter's blade and swung it in a desperate, off-balance strike.

Hum!

The moment the youth completed the swing, two currents of heat surged from the soles of his feet, instantly flooding his entire body. At the same time, a voice like a thunderclap resounded deep within his mind.

"Draw your blade, ten thousand times!"