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The Times immemorial

"If I ask you :'is there anything you want in this world?' What would be your answer." Only those who persevere in their way will get the opportunity to get to the end. Even if they perish, their will them shall be preserved for all eternity. Follow the tale of Yang Shu a young human child who came from the slum, he held nothing in his hands but struggle in this world trying to reach for what he earn for.

DaoistQi007 · Fantasi Timur
Peringkat tidak cukup
6 Chs

Chapter 1: The street rat

In a dark corner of a street in the slum, a black dog was biting madly at something in relish splattering blood on the dirty black soil; it had a ferocious expression showing its wild nature. At a closer look, the thing that it was eating had the same shape as a dog, from the killing of the same species to cannibalism, a bloody scene like this would be disturbing for anyone seeing it, but it was a familiar sight in this place.

Suddenly, the dog stopped eating; it grew wary feeling a threat closing in, a growl escaped its maw as it turned threateningly at the corner with its ears raised, it took a crouching posture to ready against the threat that it felt, but it was too late. A stone hurled fastly at the dog which was unable to get away.

 'Wosh' The stone hit its nose squarely, bringing a dizzying pain to the dog; it was stunned and couldn't escape the follow up. A figure jumped out of the corner and smashed violently a wooden stick on its head, there were dozen of nails protruding on its surface, so the hit on its head brought a stream of blood from its seven orifices and left a caving on it . The dog whimpered a bit before drawing its last breath looking at the killer with bloody eyes filled with hatred. 

The killer walked up to the dog with cautious small step, he then hit it strongly with the stick to be sure that it was dead, seeing no reaction he finally went near the corpse. Under the dim light his appearance was unraveled, from his stature it could be seen that he was a young child in his early teen about thirteen years old, his face was blackened by dirt and he had messy entangled hair, he was wearing a rag full of holes whose dirtiness could only compare to his face. His name was Shu, a slum dweller,he was born in the slum and will likely die in the slum. He didn't have any family or relatives and from the time he was aware of it, he had always been alone, struggling in the slum to live day after day, his days were spent foraging for foods or something of value in the trash and if his luck was good, he could get a good harvest like today. 

Looking at the dog which died in grievance, he took out a small knife covered in a bit of rust, it was his most precious possession; he cut a hole on the throat of the corps on the place of the artery drawing a dark and pungent blood streaming out of it; he was drawing the blood out because it was heavily poisonous and he had learned that the hard way. 

That day, he ate the meat of an animal in haste without bleeding it and paid for the price, when the night came he suffered from an intoxication. He will never forget the pain and suffering he had endured that night, folding like a ball while holding his stomach alone waiting desperately that tomorrow's sun arose, looking at death drawing so near from him, but he managed to survive. That was how the life in the slum was; it teach you with real experience, whether you survived from it and learned something or it would take your life away instead, those were the only results awaiting.

 The flow of blood stopped soon; there was a bloody smell that spread in the surrounding but no one would come near this place at this hour so Shu didn't care, he put away his knife carefully and struggled lifting the corps, he then put it in a dirty rag that he used as a bag. 

Silently, Shu dragged the rag on the soil with one hand while holding his wooden stick with the other walking outside of the small corner; his silhouette was growing more and more blurred as he walked on the street going further away. 

.... 

As Shu walked out on the street, what greeted him was an abandoned ruin; there were dozen of tents made of rags raised randomly here and there admist the rests of some dilapidated stones building; there were black smoke rising from the tents toward the grey sky twisting like snakes; with the brown colored river beside the camp and the mountains of garbage thrown here by the townsfolk on the other side, it was the drawing of a desolate landscape. This was the slum where only the people forsaken by society were regrouped; there were all sort of people here, some criminals that were researched and hiding from their pursuers, there were prostitutes that were thrown away from brothels when they lost any value, as well as orphans like Shu who were born and lived here and stray animals without owner that became wild. Such a chaotic and vicious place didn't have any place for kindness and moral, every person was only caring for himself treating other coldly. 

Shu was walking holding his stick and dragging a bag on the road of the settlement; on his way, he saw other people going on their own live, some holding a dirty bag like him coming from the garbage mountains, other were taking some cheap drugs that they exchanged from the only place that took the trash that had some value. Some people looked at him but they looked away after seeing his wooden stick, some children showed fear when he passed by and even adults had some apprehension, he was a kid but he was well known for his viciousness. 

A while back when he was smaller, he had a fight with a grown up kid a head taller than him who wanted to rob him of his harvest, he didn't come unscathed from that scuffle with a bloodied mouth and an inflated eye, he made a sorry sight but the other kid ended up far worse, he had his leg broken and took several months to be able to walk back and even now he was still limping. It was from a sneak attack with the stick he was holding right now, his ruthlessness and despicableness earned him the nickname of Shu the 'street rat'. Shu saw other people's stares but he ignored them and went to the guy exchanging for trash.

 It was a bald middle-aged man called Ken Liu the Weasel who lived in the most complete building in the ruin, well most complete only meant that the four wall were still standing, he and his group of cronies were exchanging for some valuable things that the slum dwellers found in the trash for some products useful in life like some potable water and oil, the trad was far from equitable but this was how thing were here. Ken Liu was smoking some chandoo with great delight this thing was very hard to get so he had to enjoy every moment, a dirty bag walked up to him dragging a dirty bag, he had some memory about him so he asked :

"What do you need?"

The kid took out a small red handkerchief stained in dirt and with a trace of blood but the experienced trader saw with a single glance that the material was of a good quality, his eyes lit up but he didn't show any expression on his face, he then turned to the kid and asked him:

"What do you want to exchange for it?"

Shu didn't show any expression as he answered calmly:

"I want two litres of potable water and some medicine that work on infection."

Ken Liu pretended to frown before telling:

"What you ask for is a bit over the price, but I am in a good mood today so I will accept your offer."

He then called for one of his men to bring the water and personally went to bring the medicine which was a rare and precious goods, it was inside a small vial,he then gave the goods to the kid who took his leave after getting them without saying anything.

The trader looked at the handkerchief in his hand with a thoughtful look, this was a luxurious goods that would fetch him ten time the price he paid for, but this was how thing were in this place, and hopefully it will be the same in the future.

...….

After he made a trade with that weasel, Shu walked heading to his tent, he understood that the trade was unfair as he saw through the man's third rate acting but there was nothing he could do about it, getting the medicine was already a good business for him. His tent was on a secluded corner of the slum near the river, it was nothing more than a dilapidated building with a bunch of rags hung on four small wooden poles to hide from the wind and rain; inside there was a pile of animal's fur which seemed to be a bedding; and on the other side, a messy pile of things that he found in the garbage were piled up here, they weren't worth anything but he kept them anyway. 

He deposed his dirty bag to the side and put the water tank carefully to the side, the medicine was warped in a bundle of cloth hidden in his rag like cloth. He took the dog's corps from the bag; then he took out his small knife and tried to skin it as best as he could. Before long, the fur from it was thrown onto the pile of fur enriching his bedding; the meat was cut into long parts which he strung on the wooden poles and he took the rest and threw them in the river, it took him a long time to do the work and by the time he finished it was already the evening. He then began to chew on some dried meat from the pole and went to his bedding to sleep as the night was already here like he had always done.