NOVEL NEXT Chapter 56: Her Hope [Sidestory]
~~~
14 years ago…
The woman had no more use of Shao after that. The disciple's worth to the Mistress had only ever been in the sanctity of her purity. Once the last of it was lost, the Mistress bid her farewell, gave Shao gifts as thanks for 'a good time', and closed the door to her mansion from her.
"I don't think I can enhance your base physiology any further, and I have already extracted my fair share of wounds from you," the woman had said cheerfully. "You no longer have the need for my protection. Go forth, and once more, thank you for the Agony you showed me. Its beauty was thoroughly singular."
Shao had thought she would be glad — to feel relief knowing she no longer had to suffer the touch of a chained whip, the choking grasp of a spiked collar, or the invasive fingers and blades and crawling meat of that depraved woman.
There was no relief. Relief meant there was something still worth salvaging at the end of her torment. Shao had already lost everything.
Defiled in body, pride, and mind.
She had ascended well, however — the crowning boon of her sacrifice. Shaping Realm, Ninth Step at her tender age, with a strength beyond that of her peers at the same advancement. She survived where others did not. The Elders were forced to acknowledge her worth, despite her origins as a Clan-less disciple from outside the Sect.
Shao's beauty now knew few equals. Sculpted by muscles, ivory skin, and predatory features, she stalked the halls and roadways of the Sect unbothered and envied.
Her Seniors — what few of them left, anyway, for only the Core Disciples matched her strength now — gave her a wide berth. Part of the reason was that her flesh was no longer palatable to their needs, for her body was now tainted and spoiled, bereft of innocence to plunder.
The other, more pressing reason was that her transformation was now a thing most monstrous. The Sect's famed technique — [False Primaeval Glory] — turned Shao's illustrious beauty into a creature ghastly beyond reason. The other Core Disciples may boast greater cultivation standing, but none were confident of facing Shao and coming out unscathed.
The monster she morphed into was enormous, yet deceptively swift and nimble, capable of lashing out in lightning bursts of speed or re-positioning itself across any manner of terrain and elevation with nightmarish ease.
Its innumerable scythe-like limbs attached across its body made fighting the creature up close almost suicidal, yet the ranged ordnance it carried could snipe the wings off a fly at distances of nearly a kilometre away with payloads fit to destroy buildings.
That damnable trio of cannons affixed to its head and back — three metres long and rifled with twisting grooves — fired living projectiles that chewed through stone, armour, and flesh with horrifying swiftness, burrowing itself into its targets before tearing its teeth-strewn tendrils into their brains and vital organs.
Four times, Shao was challenged by her Sister in honour duels. Four times she defeated them, leaving such harrowing wounds that her foes were either unconscious or begging for death by the time she was done.
The one time a group of sisters tried to ambush her together, their half-eaten bodies were found strung on the Sect's gate the next night — alive, but only barely, and with their minds broken by agony.
Yet, for all the insults and murderous attempts heaped on her way, Shao never killed any of them. And so a wry respect was borne for the lone Disciple, distant from all except the Chirurgeon whom she still occasionally visited.
That respect soon bore fruit, though whether Shao intended it or not was another matter entirely.
~~~
In recognition of her abilities, she was eventually given the great honour of participating in the next Four Mountains Tournament — a quadrennial clash between chosen cultivators from all four Sects within the 103rd Outer Province, and a privilege normally assigned only to Clan or Core Disciples.
Should Shao perform adequately within the arena, they would give her the Divine Viands necessary for her breakthrough into the Body Tempering Realm, and welcome her as a Core Disciple of the Split-headed Carnivores Sect.
No longer would she be at the whims of scarcity or prey to those stronger than her. Such strength would see her become a Carnivore in truth; a predator of Yang qi in all its forms.
Shao accepted, of course. After all, there was nothing left for her to pursue; no future she could see without the fear afforded to an apex predator.
She must ascend.
She would enter the tournament, defeat anyone who stood in her way, and cross the final threshold of her metamorphosis. The transformation would see her become the very beauty she once admired in her Seniors, the first time she entered the monastery's gates and bore their warm welcome.
She would become the very thing she once feared most, a monster without equal — without restraint — trapped within the moonlit cage of Famine's grasp for the rest of her life. Doomed to defile others the same way she was defiled.
No one ever said the Path to Immortality was kind. The girl repeated it again and again.
What she was becoming was just. The girl repeated it again and again.
There was no other way forward. The girl repeated it again and again.
Shao repeated it until the day she found herself in the arena. She faced her first opponent — a lowly disciple of the Beheaded Phoenix Sect; a Clan-less practitioner who lucked his way into the Sect from some peasant village. She transformed, her prodigiously monstrous figure looming over the insignificant farmer's boy.
He wielded a glaive far too big for his hands, yet the hunk of metal never wavered even as the ground trembled from her weight.
His defiance mattered little to her.
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Seek Yang flesh. Seek Yang flesh. Seek Yang flesh!
Shao howled to the sky and charged. The monster repeated the same mantra again and again.
The boy stood his ground and raised his glaive. It blazed to life.
Disciple Dai swung, and Shao saw the Sun descend upon her.
~~~
She was defeated within the first round.
Defilement, she learnt, was a dance in several steps.
First her body, then her pride, and finally her mind. Shao had thought she had no more innocence left to give. She had thought there was nothing left with her to defile.
She was wrong.
Her hope — her last hope, to make all that sacrifice meant something — was defiled.
Her Sect had been disgusted with her performance. The golden opportunity they had so generously afforded her had been wasted in a manner beyond redemption.
It did not matter that her opponent had been ridiculously skilled, despite only being an Inner Disciple — and one from outside the Beheaded Phoenix Clans at that. It did not matter that her performance had been exemplary, showcasing the full breadth of their Sect's transformation skills with a degree of control far beyond her age.
It did not matter that she nearly won, as she desperately clawed and fought beyond the point of reason. Shao still lost, and for that, she was worthless prey.
The tournament still carried on, but as the disciple lay on a bed within the arena's medical bay, she knew her fate was sealed. There was barely an ounce of strength left in her body. The other victorious competitors of her Sect would make use of this and devour her alive after their fights, replenishing their qi such that they may continue their string of wins and secure greater glory for their Elders and Clans.
The Split-headed Carnivore Sect would allow such a thing, for they had no use for a weakling except as meat.
Shao wanted to cry, but she had no more tears to give. She wanted to scream, but she was too tired to try. There was nowhere to run, no one to save her.
The only thing left for her to do was to choose how to die.
She raised the medical scalpel in her hand, stolen from the bedside surgeon's instrument set. She recognised the familiar sharpness of it, and knew the bone-like metal of its construction was sturdy enough to pierce her flesh.
The Chirugeon was here somewhere, likely brought along for the tournament by the Sect. Not that it mattered to Shao.
If she slit her throat now, while her qi was still starved and weakened, her wounds would not heal in time before she bled out.
If she were fated to be devoured by her Sisters, Shao would rather they find a lifeless corpse to feast on than yield satisfaction from her screams.
The girl repeated it again and again, convincing herself it was the only way.
Her hands refused to stop shaking. Her eyes stung. She barely stopped the choking sob from breaking past her lips.
I should have just let myself die that first night. All that I've suffered… All that I've let taken from me…
What was it all for?
Nothing.
Despair claimed her. Shao closed her eyes. She raised her blade—
"What the hell are you doing?"
Shao turned tiredly, seeing another patient awoken upon their medical bed.
Green-eyed. Black hair. Bruises covered his face, and one of his eyes was swollen shut. Despite the blanket covering his torso, Shao knew that two of his limbs were missing.
She was the one who tore them off earlier, after all.
Disciple Dai — her previous opponent in the arena, the one who defeated her despite all odds — scoffed at her. "If you want to kill yourself, I prefer that you do it outside the tent. This room reeks enough of blood as is. Also, try to keep the blade sharp. Given how disappointed the Sect is with my performance, I'm probably going to need it for myself after you're done."
Shao blinked. The two of them stared at each other for a second.
Before she could stop herself, she threw the scalpel at him. The male disciple barely had time to shout out a curse before the blade sank into the pillow where his head was, missing him by mere milliseconds before he dodged.
Shao lunged at him, screaming. Dai screamed as well, right as she collided into him with a flurry of flailing limbs.
Though they did not know at the time, that was the start of their turbulent and extremely complicated courtship.
That day, in exchange for defiling her hope, he returned her everything else. Through his flesh, she was redeemed in body, pride, and mind. His searing heat washed away the wounds of her past, and the dance finally ceased.
Or so she told herself. Repeated it, again and again, until his name was carved straight into her soul.
Dai. Dai. Dai.
The man who gave her hope to live.
EXPERIMENTAL LOG - Subject: X-AB-02 "Shao"
Specialist Lucy Hayes, Lead Chirurgeon of the 78th UEC Expeditionary Force (Maybe I should just call myself Lu Yihui, Chirurgeon of the Split-headed Carnivores instead? Doubt the UEC is ever going to read these reports)
Date: ??? (Been on this continent for about 22 years now. Barely aged a day though!)
Location: The Split-headed Carnivore Sect of the 103rd Outer Province. (I have my own lab now! Well, it's more like a medical room the Sect loaned to me, really, but it still counts! They even gave me tables!)
Objective:
To create a functioning 'cultivated' enhanced human capable of surpassing the previous models' limitations in strength, endurance, and cognitive function. Subject X-AB-2 will serve as the first prototype for a new breed of UEC Evangelists using the remaining Daemon mutagens I have. Unlike the previous experiment, the procedure will be conducted on a 'Cultivator' rather than a baseline human subject.
Subject:
Subject X-AB-02, named 'Shao', is the second participant in my experiments. Like the first, she came to me willingly, albeit under more distressing circumstances. Still, the ethical requirement of using only willing participants is fulfilled. No one can deny my right to cut her up and inflict horrible Agony on her.
… I should probably cut that part out. Perhaps my excitement got the better of me.
She is perfect. Young, beautiful, and possessed of a respectable amount of Astral Sensitivity. The people of this place refer to it as 'qi aptitude'; not entirely inaccurate, but I prefer the scientific wording.
The first subject, Dai, was a mundane mortal. His body was more susceptible to change, and so when I had excised his vital organs and replaced them with Daemon Mutagens, his insides had dissolved to primordial soup almost instantly, allowing the Sanguinis Machina to feast off his essence and reconstruct his form.
But here? Subject X-AB-02's cultivated form would resist the change, forcing the Daemon Mutagens inserted to evolve before releasing their living payload. I imagine the process would be indescribably painful, especially with the added length of time such a procedure would take. A good thing I have stockpiled my latest batch of paralytic agents. The ingredients in this place are quite sublime.
We would not want the subject to hurt herself in her thrashing. A spine and neck injector, accompanied by cortical needles, should suffice in delivering the regular doses required to shut down her nervous system. I will have to make a proper collar for her.
She will still feel the pain, but at least her body will be undamaged. I will also have to cut her open at intervals to remove her regenerating flesh so that the Sanguinis Machina can proceed with the modification unimpeded.
This will be fun. I'm already salivating at the wounds I will be able to harvest from her Agony. They shall make the most perfect ammunition for the Flayed Painter.
— Excerpt of The Chirurgeon's Research Notes 2. This particular experiment was conducted after she joined the Split-headed Carnivore Sect.