'Evil' Cultivators

In the Douluo Continent, evil soul masters are frowned upon and ostracized from society.

The reason?

heh...

Anyway, we 'evil' soul masters usually live like any other society, well, I can only speak for myself and my parents. I couldn't care less about the others.

We live in the forest, I've never left, but the stories of the outside world I hear are very fascinating. My mother tells me bedtime stories about heroes that can fly; stories about them defeating armies of hundreds of people with the flip of their hand.

My personal favorite is a story about a short little man; his name is Diego. He wore a bright yellow costume with a red cap and a red eye mask. He would come out when people were in trouble and fought for them when they couldn't. He would get beat up just so others wouldn't have to be.

Such a manly man!

I have such very high respect for Diego, such a righteous hero! We don't deserve him!

Ohhh man! I'm getting pumped up just thinking about the legendary tale of Diego!

But NoOOooo! My mother never finished the story. Humph! I'm mad just thinking about it.

Mark my word! I'll definitely have her finish the story tonight.

But before that...

....

[Sunset Forest]

The sun was at its highest point, fluffy white clouds drifted here and there in the vast clear blue sky; sunshine poked through the cracks of thick trees as it illuminated a small wooden house of two floors.

The house blended into the surrounding trees nicely; so much so, one would miss it if they didn't pay enough attention.

Within the premise of the wooden house, a cute little child and a beautiful woman could be seen together near a peach tree as they picked the fruits one by one.

Another person could be seen a little further from the duo, behind the house, in the depths of the forest. He was standing straight with a black cloth over his eyes; within his left hand, there were silvery throwing knives that reflected the ray of the sun.

He stood very steady, and his breathing was similarly even. Like a calm volcano about to erupt, he made his move.

The four knives between his left-hand fingers flew in different directions, to different small targets, on faraway trees.

The man calmly pulled his left arm back and towards the black cloth over his eyes, taking it off in on fellow sweep as it swooshed in the air.

His cold blue eyes looked very focused on the targets; he glanced at them one by one.

One bulls-eye

Two bulls-eyes

Three bulls-eyes

Four bulls-eyes

Finally, he had done it!

The man's eye shone warmth as his lips lifted in a satisfactory smile.

....

"Mom, can you tell me the story of Diego again?" The little kid shyly asked his mother as they were picking the peaches from the peach tree.

The little kid's mother was on the other side of the tree, picking peaches and placing them neatly in her wooden basket on the green grass. She stopped her action, tilted her head in confusion. "Didn't I tell you that story once already?" She asked. She smiled warmly as she walked towards his side.

Looking at his mother's bright green eyes, he readied himself for war. "Yes, mom! BUT! You didn't finish the story last night! I want to hear about Diego, tell me how cool he was when he was being a hero and getting beaten up for other's sake! He's my number 1! He's so cool! Like, like, you know!" The little kid nodded to himself as he clenched his fists in excitement; his blue eyes glowed as he recited all the 'cool' things Diego has done for people.

His mother smiled as she watched his antics; tussling his short raven-black hair, she smiled like honey, but the word that came out of her mouth completely contradicted her pleasant smile.

"no"

The little kid's fantasy shattered as he was hit with cold hard reality, square in the face.

"But mom!"

"I already told you, Diego isn't a hero, sweetie." His mother tried to persuade him, but it didn't seem effective. She had a hint of regret in her eyes; she blamed herself for the delusions her little baby developed about Diego. In fact, she had told that little story last night because she thought it would make her baby boy laugh.

She reached out and pinched his full chubby cheeks. "Are you mad at mommy?" she asked whilst putting on a dejected expression.

"Hmph!" The little kid swatted away her pincer hands and humphed, turning his head to the side with rosy red cheeks.

"hehehe~" His mother chuckled as she stared loving at his pouting face and rosy cheeks.

"It's okay sweetie, How about I tell you a different story tonight? It's much cooler than the story Diego, mommy pinkie promises!" She opened her arms, waiting for him to jump for joy and give her a big hug as he forgets all about the story of Diego.

But the reality was all too cruel.

"no!"

A clean-cut single-word response left no room for 'ordinary negotiation'.

Her expression didn't change much, but her pleasant smile was pleasant no more.

However, it didn't end there; he had ONLY stabbed her in the back once.

"No! No! No! I want to hear Diego! Diego! Diego! Diego!"

She felt her heart bleed as the daggers dug deeper into her body with every passing word.

She was no longer 'smiling'; the world around her dulled as a metaphysical tyrannic Pheonix briefly appeared behind her before soaring towards the endless sky, disappearing as the world regained its color once again.

'Calm. Keep...calm. Everything is okay, everything will be okay.'

She glanced down towards her beloved child to check if he was okay; she sighed in relief once she saw what he was up to.

"Here anty ant! Come get this stupid fly!" The little kid sat near an ant's nest where dozens of ants came and went every minute. He looked with increasing interest as he placed down a small fly on the patch of dirt. He had crushed the fly when it had suddenly landed on the back of his right hand, giving him a ticklish annoying feeling.

The little kid watched as an ant slowly dragged the fly towards the colony. Once it got close to the anthill, a tug of war started as multiple ants of different sizes pulled on the other parts of the fly. They pulled and pushed their way up the anthill, and the original ant that had done all the work to get it there? Sadly, he lost the fight to the other bigger ants within the tug of war.

Such a sad and cruel reality for poor anty ant.

The fight seems to continue even inside the ant's nest as there were still two ants tugging away.

"Whoa! Mom, did you see that?!" The little kid turned his head toward where his mom was standing, asking with an awed expression and twinkling eyes.

"Yes sweetie, I saw." She was all smiles and butterflies.

He turned his attention back to the ants as he picked up a tiny tree branch and played with them. He annoyed the ants endlessly, blocking their path by trapping them in different shapes, poking them, and sometimes launching them flying.

He had the time of his life as his mother got back to picking peaches from the tree.