THE MARTIAL KING - Season 8 Episode 4

The “warm current”, as Zen named it, felt like the warm caress of the summer seas. He had no idea what it was, nor had any explanation for why it healed him from any pain felt by his body. He didn’t have any inkling as to what this energy coursing through him might possibly be.

‘An enigma, ‘ Zen thought, a faint smile gracing his lips. ‘One that I’m willing to embrace wholeheartedly.’

The thirst for knowledge to solve this mystery spurred Zen into training his body without mercy. His resolve and dedication had led him to be inflicted with various wounds and injuries all over, yet all these never seemed to last for long as soon as the “warm current”
washed over him. ‘It’s another type of energy… One that I obviously haven’t heard before.’ Zen had mused before, his brows furrowing in frustration as he attempted to resolve his own inquiries.

“Primordial energy?”

Zen murmured as he finally knew what the “warm current” was after the red dragon told him.

The red dragon had helped to muster and run the primordial energy in his body. It started with the smallest flicker of flame. A fire that could easily be extinguished by sudden gusts of wayward winds.

It was too sudden; too fast, that Zen didn’t even have the chance to recognize where and when the shift had begun inside of him. The flame flickered and spread all throughout his body like wildfire in a dense forest. It left no mercy; reaching every crevice and fissure in his compact body, until it engulfed him completely.

He thought that he could bear it. He thought of the summer seas, crashing waves and the salt lingering on his tongue; the warm caress that seemed to embrace him lovingly and healed him every time his body took damage. And, at first, he felt it—the careful, tender touch. Until, the heat grew and grew and he was choking, unable to breathe as the heat increased in devastatingly high levels. It scorched him from the inside out; every intake of oxygen became synonymous to burning acid sliding down his parched throat. He was being burned alive, his skin turning to black as his muscles convulsed, fighting a hopeless battle against the fire that relentlessly licked at his flesh.

“No! Stop!”

Zen screamed in despair, trashing wildly and blindly. He hated it, he hated this, hated that he was unable to do anything against the force that was trying to bring him down. He hated that he had no chance at all to alleviate his suffering. He had been determined to fight back, no matter how small the chances of success were in a battle, but here, he was robbed of all power. The pain didn’t cease; only intensified and worsened to such a degree that his blood felt like boiling water. He was trapped in hellfire, with no possible way out. He was helpless, utterly and completely helpless.

Oracle City had begun preparing for the Martial Arts Contest, an event that was widely known and praised by people from all towns and nations. Meaning, it also became a leeway for merchants and landlords alike to profit off such a huge opportunity. From wares and food to inns and houses for rent, it became nothing short of a massive festival for small and large businesses.

The house Zen had rented was one of the abandoned properties that had only opened due to the event. It was simple and modest, as it was owned by an ordinary family. The only problem was that its location was disadvantageous to most because of its inaccessibility. Nevertheless, Zen took the liberty to live inside its quarters for the time being.

The owner’s family lived next to the rented house, and ran a jade and jewelry shop on the side after securing a better location on the main street.

In their previous years, they had tried to scout tourists into checking in their old home, but it was always met to no avail.

They were ready to accept that this year would be of no difference, having decided on labeling it as a futile attempt to raise quick money. Yet, this man—no, a cultivator, and an excellent one at that, approached them with the intention of renting out their former estate.

Cultivators were a kindred that possessed unimaginable skills and powers. To ordinary folks like the owner, they were a species that were closely regarded as fairies or gods. And so, it was also with great reverence and awe when the owner had told his family to never dare approach the rented house, in fear of bothering the young man occupying their past home.

It had been a quiet few days, since the cultivator had been living peacefully as their esteemed neighbor. However, this coming night seemed to be the long-awaited exception.

A sudden roar, and the following crash of tiles from the adjacent backyard shocked the owner’s family into stillness. With pale faces and trembling hands, the feeling of unrest that settled on the household led the group to huddle close to each other in fear and terror.

Unbeknownst to them though, a particular girl in a flowing green dress took the loud noise as an opportunity to spy on the house next-door. She stacked a pile of tiles on top of the other to make up for her lack of height, and peeped over the neighbor’s yard.

‘A man in white… I wonder if that’s part of his training?’ She thought, after taking notice of the youth writhing on the ground. He was covered in dirt and grime from his yard, a stark contrast to the white of his clothes.

“He’s the cultivator, isn’t he?”

The girl muttered to herself, her eyes transfixed on the man who seemed to be under some unbearable pain.

Her inquisitive nature was understandable; it was a feeling that the majority could relate to. The people of the Oracle City mostly led normal, ordinary lives, just like other towns and places. Excluding the occasional flying chariots or cultivators in the sky, one would rarely have an opportunity to meet and much less, know any cultivators.

It might be because of this fact, that the hunger to observe such an unusual being, won over any fear the girl must have felt upon experiencing the unfamiliar. She was eager to drink up whatever she could take from the view over the wall. Yes, she certainly was, until she had a nagging realization that what she was currently seeing was simply beyond her expectations.

The more she watched the scene in front of her, the more horrified and repulsed she felt upon seeing the cultivator withstand such suffering just for the sake of training.

His voice was hoarse from his screams. The pain from the activation of primordial energy was unexpected for Zen, so he was totally unprepared for it. He had no concept of time while he was stuck in the realm of torture. He didn’t know how many minutes, or hours he had already spent enclosed in this prison of searing fire.

He convulsed; tossing himself widely and violently on the ground, like fish desperately looking for water; looking desperately for the briefest amount of solace, as his mind fought to escape intolerable abuse of the white-hot flames.

“He’s tougher than I have imagined,” the red dragon said in barely concealed astonishment.

“His soul has entered the Fighting Soul Realm, so he is able to withstand it for a long while before he passes out,” the cyan dragon replied.

“That’s it… It would actually be his salvation if he were to pass out. This kind of torture is undeniably unbearable.” The red dragon shook his head in a pitying manner. “Although, it is true that one must always go through a series of hardships if he hopes to achieve his goal. Zen must understand what he is putting at stake for the future he will be facing soon.”