Chapter 12 Girl from the Closet

This is it – the end of my mortal journey.

How did it all come down to this? The family I was born into wasn't incredibly wealthy, but we were fairly well off. We were a family of cultivators. Father was steadily rising in the ranks of the sect and had great talent and fighting prowess. Mother was much younger than him, and it could be said that she was just at the beginning of her journey to the summit.

At least until their lives were cut short in the most foolish and stupid way. I didn't find out until much later. I was only four years old when the tragedy struck. One of the core elders had died. The fight for his place began. My father sided with the wrong person.

That man, and it is that man, for I have not the slightest desire even to mention his name, thought he was the chosen one of the heavens and decided to rebel. Not just to take part in the race for position, but to start a full-fledged insurrection. Maybe he had outside support. Most likely he had.

Needless to say, he wasn't as clever and cunning as he thought he was. He and his plans were known from the start. The rebellion was quickly crushed, and all the conspirators were swiftly and painfully executed.

My last memory of my parents is of me in a dungeon, watching from a barred window as both my parents are led to the scaffold. Beneath them, an angry mob numbering in the thousands. The executioner, dressed all in red, with a huge cone-shaped red cap on his head, wearing a mask made from the skull of some beast, flirted with the crowd. Every time he raised his arms up, as if after a battle won, the crowd cheered. Every time he put them down, the crowd fell dead silent. Every time he pointed at the condemned, the crowd shouted one thing in unison: "Kill."

Stones and rotten vegetables were thrown at every condemned person. A feast of human cruelty and bloodthirstiness reigned in the square.

The Cultivators, who considered themselves infallible and imperishable, above any mortal, turned into a pack of beasts or demons in an instant.

The condemned were skinned and flayed alive; their limbs were chopped off and thrown into the crowd; they were impaled on stakes; they were boiled alive; they were incinerated; they were vaporized; they had copulated with demonic beasts... They defiled them as best they could.

That day, out of a thousand doomed, not one died the same death.

My father, tall and mighty had the most shining eyes full of life out of everyone I had ever seen. He always promised me, with a confident smile like the one only he had, that soon I would live like a true princess. He was brought out broken and battered.

Instead of life, there was only emptiness in those eyes. I only recognized him by the tattoo on his neck that stood for "strength". His gorgeous long hair was completely shaved off. There wasn't a single spot on his white skin free of open wounds and bruises. He looked not like a human, but a clay figure made by a child and painted in red, blue, and purple colors.

First, his nails were pulled out, then his teeth, then his genitals, and finally his hands were cut off. All the wounds were immediately cauterized so that he would not die of blood loss. In front of the crowd, the executioner pulled out a huge syringe filled with a yellowish liquid. One of the older guys who was in the dungeon with me that day said it was a "Death Run" potion. Whoever took it would live, no matter what injuries were inflicted. The executioner drove it into my father's throat, and his assistants grabbed my father's head and held his eyes open.

At that moment, my mother was brought to the platform. She was always beautiful. My father always said I looked just like her. Tall, slender, with long silky silver hair. Even as a married woman, many men chased after her. Father was always challenged to duels because they thought he didn't deserve her. I remember one funny uncle told me that he was a prince from a distant country and my mother was to be his queen and I was to be his daughter. I didn't understand anything at the time, and I just thought he was very funny.

Her arms and legs were chopped off. Only the body and head remained.

Mother was followed by two pigs. I didn't see what happened next. That boy covered my eyes with his palm. I only heard. How the crowd cheered, how my mother screamed, and how my father cursed the heavens.

Then the executioner, picking the right moment when the crowd quieted down, proclaimed: "This woman is an example of how easy it is to mingle with swine. In her lifetime she has tied her fate to them and refused her humanity. May she mingle with the pigs even after her death! Let her mistake be a lesson to all!"

I couldn't see anything, but I recognized the smell. My father liked to roast piglets. As the boy later told me, what was left of my mother was burned with the pigs and fed to my father. My father was a follower of the Shepherd God. Cannibalism is considered a terrible sin. Once a person tastes human meat, he or she will not be reborn and will go to hell forever.

After that, my father was beheaded.

In the sect, children and close relatives of traitors are sold into slavery. Boys are sent to mines and pits, girls to brothels and rarely to serve as maids. Still, it's the best fate. Sometimes they are given to alchemists and artifactors for their experiments.

I was sent to a brothel. Due to my age, I did not serve visitors with my body. I was trained to do so, but for the most part, I was a waitress. The only way to get out of the brothel is to pay the amount of money with interest that the brothel bought you for. The sect is strict about that sort of thing, which is why everyone who works there knows how much they owe.

My price? 10,000 gold coins. I don't know if I could pay that amount. That's 100 small spirit stones. That's a lot of money, even for an inner disciple. It was explained to me that I have a talent, and I would be very popular for dual cultivation.

I was well aware that my chances for freedom were incredibly slim. And why would I want to be free? Is there anyone waiting for me? Did anyone need me? Everyone in the sect remembers me as the daughter of traitors, and I won't have a chance to live inside. Cultivators have a long life and a very good memory. Once I leave the sect, will I be able to live a day in the outside world? I don't know how to fight. I'll probably end up in an even more miserable state.

All this time, I was not living, but existing. Winter was no different from summer and autumn from spring. The sun didn't warm me. The cool breeze didn't caress. Food had no taste. Flowers had no smell. People had no faces.

Until one day I was sent to tend to a room occupied by frequent guests of the establishment. A group of young masters. Watching them, my heart sank with envy. Especially the boy who was with them, who looked a little younger than me.

I realized he had come here with his older brother. I wonder if my parents were alive, would I have younger siblings?

Slowly they began to disperse and I was asked to bring the bill. Their leader looked at me with his drunken yet thoughtful eyes and said:

"My little brother is old enough now, and I haven't seen him once with any female besides our mother and a few caretakers. What if he's that... playing for the other team, hmm? No, that can't be right. This has to be fixed right now! He needs a wife! You're a great fit!"

He grabbed me and they just ran off. They put me in this closet and apparently forgot about me.

Starving and needing to go to the bathroom, I lost track of time. It felt like years. At least it's soft enough in here because of all the clothes.

Almost putting my pride aside the moment I was about to do the deed, the closet doors opened. There was that boy looking at me. I tumbled out onto the floor.

"Who are you?" the boy asked me.

This is it – the end of my mortal journey.