The Dawn of the New World

Ten seconds. That's how long it took for the figure to merge with Hao Xuan in both body and mind.

Hao Xuan went through over fifty years of life experiences in the span of those few seconds.

The memories started from the age of three with the death of his parents. He didn't remember their faces or any other details about them.

A woman came and explained to him that they were no longer with him and that he needed to go somewhere else now since the house they were living in had to be given to someone else.

Unable to refuse or even understand most of what was going on he could only watch as he was taken away to an orphanage owned by a nobleman.

He spent the next seven years there along with almost two hundred other boys of his age. It was a slow and mind-numbingly dull experience. They were not taught anything other than manual labor or if they were talented, how to fight.

As weak as Hao Xuan was he could only be in the first group.

He had also suffered an injury that left him mute and open to many forms of harassment and bullying by some of the other boys whose only form of entertainment was abusing those weaker than them.

Those overseeing their growth only saw this as another form of punishment for the weak and as a reward for the strong because in this world strength was everything.

When the boys turned ten they were taken away to be tested to see if they had a gift for cultivation and Hao Xuan finally caught a break when he showed above-average talent in the area.

Thinking that finally the torturous days were over he was sent to another place where the rest of the children that could cultivate were brought in from the entire region but thus began a new stage in his life, one that lasted until his eventual death.

Instead of being taught how to cultivate properly, each child was given a single book which they were to study by themselves. But since Hao Xuan was illiterate his only option was to learn by watching others as they were sent to complete various missions not even a month later.

The missions included everything from clearing out bandit hideouts and hunting wanted criminals to clearing out large sections of land that were overrun by various monstrous beasts, tasks that were not made for mere children.

Starting out Hao Xuan's group had 90 children and in the span of three months, only 17 were left alive.

If they wanted to eat they would have to complete missions and to complete missions they needed to be stronger than the enemies which was almost never the case.

They were used as expendable cannon fodder, left to fend for themselves.

They were always the first ones to go in and the last to come out of any encounter. Another month later only 5 children were left including Hao Xuan.

They had to either beg for food or take on even more degrading tasks like visiting the houses of nobles under the cover of night to sell their young bodies.

It was either that or slowly dying of starvation. But where others ran to safety Hao Xuan intentionally put himself in danger because he would rather die on the battlefield than live like a rat for the rest of his life.

But the more he fought the more he began to like every heart-wrenching aspect of it.

Days turned into weeks and weeks into months. Before he realized another eight years had passed.

Hao Xuan was no longer a weakling. His years of combat experiences taught him enough skills to survive most encounters. He had become addicted to it, to the rush of adrenaline when his life was on the line.

He treated it as the ultimate sport where only the victor would come out alive. And he was a champion because that was all he knew.

His only reason for existing was to fight anyone foolish enough to give him a reason. He fought man and beast, with nothing but his fists that he coated with molten metal.

Running from one blood-soaked battlefield to the next his legend slowly grew and his mind became wrecked with thoughts of finding stronger and more powerful opponents.

Cultivation was only a way for him to keep moving forward whereas his life was a sad existence where he only knew how to kill.

And while he was experiencing those memories his body was changing ever so slightly according to them.

The skin over his knuckles began to peel away and recover with an extremely thick layer of dead cells that looked like callouses built from decades of scraping.

The bones in his hands cracked and popped, extending themselves accordingly.

*GASP*

And with one final breath he became anew.