The Fate Of The Weak

'Living is not for the weak.'

A young man stood on a vast field. The blades of grass swayed back and forth in the gentle wind, as they brushed past his feet. Their fresh, earthy smell wafted past his nostrils, but he paid no heed to such an obvious distraction.

His dark hair was tossed about by the wind, making the strands seem as though they were dancing. His eyes—tired and worn-out as they were—focused on what was ahead of him.

WAR!

Right in front of him—though at a considerable distance—stood an army of at least a hundred thousand practitioners. The legion, tightly woven together in battle formation, vehemently stood against him. Among them were Martial Artists, Spiritualists, and Tamers.

All experts, to say the least.

The steely glare of the battle-hardened warriors was directed at him. Their blades, spears, clubs—along with every other weapon conceivable to the mind—were ready to cut his flesh and draw blood from him. Those without weapons prepared their respective Arts.

Needless to say, these hundred thousand men—soldiers, really—were here, just for him.

"Surrender now, criminal!"

"You will die here and now, heretic."

"Justice will be served."

Hearing these cries from the men who stood a couple hundred meters from him, the young man could not help but smile a little. Their voices amused him, but hardened his heart.

Justice? Criminal? Heretic? What foolish words were these people spouting?

The young man chose not to embark on the futile task of understanding the rationale of fools, or even attempt to reconcile their philosophy with his. After all, he had learned the hard way…

Weakness in this world was a sin.

Exhaling slowly, his eyes brimming with conviction, the black-haired man began to move.

His hand reached for the blade embedded in the sheath on his hips. As he moved, his robe danced. His robe was whipped about in the wind, however he remained unfazed.

And then, slowly but deftly, he began to unsheathe his blade.

"P-prepare yourselves!"

"Ready your Spirit Arts!"

"Take your stances!"

"Use your best Martial Arts!"

"Use everything you have!"

"That man is dangerous!"

Yes. This was what he wanted. The young man couldn't stop himself from grinning at this point. Even as their deafening roars echoed through the vast field and even across the surrounding mountains, he felt nothing but exhilaration.

A sole man, against a hundred thousand men! Could he have ever dreamed of such a thing in the past—in this life, as well as the one he had had before reincarnating?

Would he ever have thought of wielding a weapon of mass destruction and going against the will of the Sky, Earth, and Human Pillars?

He already knew the answer to the question. NO!

DEFINITELY NOT!

How could a nobody dream of being labeled as the most wanted criminal in the world—formidable enough to be considered dangerous by even the greatest of masters? No, he could not even dare to dream of such a scenario in the past.

But now, things are different.

"Swordcraft…" He whispered softly, as he slowly drew his blade.

"H-he's unsheathing it! Stay in formation!"

"Spirit Art Users, use the array!"

"Beast Art Users, ready your Spirit Beasts!"

"Martial Artists, prepare to attack."

"Do not underestimate him!"

"Use all your might. Right here and now…"

"WE MUST END HIM!"

He could feel the energy of his opponents swelling, converging, multiplying. A kaleidoscope of light ascended to the sky, as each of his enemies unleashed their inner energy—whether it be Ki, Chi, or Mana.

Standing against such immense power, it was overwhelming, to say the least.

However, this young warrior's smile merely broadened even more. His hair turned white, and his energy began flowing from his body—shrouding his blade and permeating his entire form.

"Living is not for the weak." He whispered once more.

Time and time again, he had been taught this lesson, till he finally learned. Once again, in this battle, he would see, yet again the manifestation of this law that pervaded both his life, and that of everyone he had known—everyone who had died!

However, if he was sure about one thing, it was this;

"I won't die here…"

Even with the numerous projectiles launched at him.

Even with the multiple Spirit Beasts that had manifested.

Even with the countless Arts and Techniques that his enemies possessed.

Despite all of that, the young man was certain.

Why?

How could he be so sure that he would overcome this mighty army, even when the odds were so clearly against him? How would he defeat so many masters and forge the path he craved for himself?

He knew the answer already.

"I'm not weak..."

That's right. Ever since he decided to damn his fate and relentlessly swim against the tides of life, he had trod this path. And here were the results.

He—Liu—could not be considered weak.

"Not anymore."

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[A/N]

I welcome you to this amazing novel. I hope you like it. If you do, please add it to your library, send me Power Stones, and give comments to encourage me and help me continue.

Thank you… and I hope we all have a wonderful time.