The villagers took turns feeding him rice porridge.
The spoon was too big and his mouth too small. Several times, the porridge went down the wrong way, and his face turned bright red as his little body jerked with coughs.
Once, he nearly didn't recover.
The auntie feeding him panicked. She turned him upside down and patted his back for a long time. Only after a big mouthful of porridge came back up did he start crying again.
In his memories, Qin Chuan watched the scrawny little baby, a lump of pain tightening in his throat.
The scene skipped ahead to when he was three.
Qin Chuan saw a few children about his age. Wearing tattered clothes, they chased a mongrel around the open ground at the village entrance, laughing loudly.
Qin Chuan recognized their faces.
Goudan, Tiezhu, Xiaocui.
The scene suddenly darkened. Disciples from the Clear Sky Sect stormed into the village.
Firelight, shouts, and cries all mingled together.
Qin Chuan saw himself hiding in a haystack by the village entrance. The stalks pricked his face and tickled. He curled into a ball, clamped both hands over his mouth, and didn't even dare breathe out loud.
Footsteps came from outside the haystack, followed by the heavy sound of something falling to the ground.
Then silence.
Qin Chuan stayed in the haystack all night. When he crawled out the next morning, the sun was blazing, so bright he could barely keep his eyes open.
In the open ground by the village entrance, he saw several small figures lying there.
Goudan, Tiezhu, Xiaocui.
Qin Chuan crouched beside the haystack and stared at them for a long time.
He didn't cry. At three, he didn't know what death meant. He just couldn't understand why the children who'd chased dogs with him yesterday weren't moving today.
He walked over and tugged Goudan's hand.
It was cold and stiff. The hand didn't squeeze his in return.
Qin Chuan's eyes began to sting.
The Qin Chuan standing inside the memory felt his throat tighten. Something seemed to plug his chest, squeezing off his breath.
The scene kept turning forward.
Six years old, in the fields of Yuze Village.
A skinny boy wore a hemp shirt patched seven or eight times. The sleeves were too short, exposing his thin wrists.
His trousers were rolled above his knees, and his bare feet were planted in the wet mud, black with dirt packed between his toes.
He held a hoe taller than himself, raising it and bringing it down. The blade sank into the earth, and he had to grip the handle with both hands and pull hard to turn the soil.
Each time he turned a clod, the wooden handle chafed his palms. In less than half a shichen, blisters had risen on both hands. When they burst, fluid seeped out and slicked the handle, making it hard to hold.
Qin Chuan watched his six-year-old self turn the soil, one swing of the hoe at a time.
The sun was scorching, and the back of his neck had turned red. Sweat ran from his forehead into his eyes, stinging. He wiped it away with his sleeve and kept digging.
No one helped him.
Grandpa Boen had fallen seriously ill the previous winter and couldn't get out of bed. The other villagers were struggling to look after their own families.
Qin Chuan farmed alone, hauled water alone, and cooked alone.
Six years old. A six-year-old child.
Qin Chuan's eyes reddened.
He watched the little boy in ragged clothes in the memory. It felt like someone had gripped his heart and twisted it, squeezing out an ache that wasn't in his flesh but seeped from between his bones.
The scene kept turning forward.
Nuoding Junior Spirit Master Academy.
Qin Chuan saw himself sitting properly in the front row, wearing the gray uniform issued by the academy. It was a little too big, the collar gaping around his neck and the sleeves covering his fingers.
He'd just entered the academy. Whenever he spoke to anyone, he first lowered his head a little. It wasn't that he was afraid of people; it was a diffidence that had grown deep in his bones.
A child raised in a village, arriving in the city for the first time, thought everything was better than what he had back home. He didn't even dare walk down the middle of the road.
The students gathered in small groups to chat.
They talked about their families' Martial Soul legacies, their parents' connections in the Soul Master World, and all sorts of things Qin Chuan couldn't understand.
Qin Chuan sat in a corner, opened his textbook, and read one word at a time.
When he came across a word he didn't know, he circled it with his pen. After class, he went to ask Teacher Gangzi.
Yu Xiaogang had a decent impression of Qin Chuan back then.
"Although this child's talent is average, he's willing to put in the work," Yu Xiaogang had once remarked to the other teachers in the staff room.
Qin Chuan never heard those words. He only knew he was slower than the others and had started from further behind, so he needed to spend more time studying.
After his classmates had all returned to their dorms for the night, Qin Chuan still sat in the classroom, poring over Yu Xiaogang's lecture notes by lamplight.
The notes were neatly written and clearly organized. Every theory came with detailed derivations and examples.
Qin Chuan couldn't understand the more advanced parts, so he first copied down what he could understand and memorized it before tackling the difficult sections.
Once, he wrote a term in the blank space of his notebook: "Hybrid Martial Soul."
Before class the next day, he took his notebook to Yu Xiaogang.
"Teacher, I have a question."
"Ask."
"Can Martial Souls interbreed?"
Yu Xiaogang paused.
"What do you mean?"
"For example, if one person's Martial Soul is a cat and another person's is a tiger, could their child's Martial Soul become something new, with traits of both a cat and a tiger?"
Yu Xiaogang set down his book and gave Qin Chuan a serious look.
"Someone has proposed that idea before."
That afternoon, the teacher and student spent two whole shichen discussing it in the classroom. They went from Hybrid Martial Souls to genetically modified Martial Souls, from theoretical feasibility to the difficulties of putting it into practice.
The more they talked, the more animated Yu Xiaogang became. At last, he patted Qin Chuan on the shoulder and said, "Your brain is worth more than your Martial Soul."
Qin Chuan had been quite pleased at the time.
Only later did he realize that while the words praised his brains, they also meant his Martial Soul was no good.
The scene kept turning.
Twelve years old. Innate Soul Power, level 6.
The gap between him and his classmates grew wider and wider. The others had reached level 31, while he was still stuck at level 24. Their Martial Souls were dragons and tigers, while his was a little bell.
Illusion Bell.
A little bell that could make people drowsy when shaken.
The entire classroom burst out laughing.
Standing at the podium with a serious expression, Yu Xiaogang said, "Qin Chuan, as your teacher, I recommend that you pursue a career in service."
A career in service: hypnotic massage therapist, putting children to sleep.
Oscar laughed the loudest. Tang San made snide remarks from below, while Dai Mubai crossed his legs and slapped the desk.
Qin Chuan sat in his seat without saying a word.
The scene stopped there.
Memory Kill reached its peak at that moment.
All the images piled together like a blunt knife, sawing at Qin Chuan's heart again and again.
In the real world, Qin Chuan stood in the bushes, his hand gripping the Lovesickness Heartbreak Butterfly trembling slightly.
His eyes were red.
He hadn't felt this way in a long time. Three years of underground cultivation had hardened his emotions like stone. He could keep his happiness, anger, sadness, and fear under tight control.
But Memory Kill was different.
Flowers Falling in a Dream created a false sense of parting to play on your emotions. Clever people knew it was fake; grit your teeth, and you could endure it.
Memory Kill dug up your own memories. Those scenes were real.
Those feelings were real, too.
You couldn't tell yourself, "This is fake," because it was your life.
Qin Chuan took a deep breath. Heavenly Dao Power circulated through his body, and only then did the surge of emotion slowly subside.
The Star Dou Great Forest came back into focus before his eyes.
The Lovesickness Heartbreak Butterfly in his hand still fluttered its wings faintly, the patterns of its two "Beauty's Eyes" gleaming softly in the afterglow of the setting sun.
Qin Chuan looked down at his hand.
His fingers still trembled slightly. The aftereffects of Memory Kill were even stronger than those of Flowers Falling in a Dream.