As the blows rained down upon his already prone form, Strong River could not help but think how trivial, how foolish this kind of pain was compared to how he already felt.

He had come out here into the wilderness with its tall grasses and wildflowers to escape. He could not decide whether he wanted release back into his memories of her, or from his memories of her, he only knew that he wanted to escape the pain of losing Sweet Nectar. Mere physical punishment could never compare to the punishment inside his own heart after she had gone. In the haze of regret and self-flagellation, he hadn't at all expected to run into these hyena-like thugs from Brave Dragon's gang here.

Brave Dragon. Tyrant of the bandits that held sway over all commerce in the region. A powerful practitioner of the magical arts, now of the legendary Essence Foundation stage.

There because of what he had taken from Sweet Nectar.

True, she had died by her own hand in the end. But that never would have happened had Brave Dragon hadn't despoiled her, plundering her special constitution to build his foundation and then discarding her. Sweet Nectar had been too devastated and distraught afterward and had refused to see even him.

His last memory of her was of a thin, pale wraith of a girl who returned after Brave Dragon was finished with her, putting on a brave smile for him as she returned to her parents' house, never to emerge again alive. He had not even been allowed to see her corpse, as it was said that the sight was too horrible to behold.

The incident had so shaken Sweet Nectar's parents that they abandoned their house and left the village without notice or help, piling their belongings on their cart and fleeing.

So it wasn't just his own pain that River bore, but that of her family. Next to that, the taunts and abuse from these thugs were a mere pinprick.

Lost in this train of thought, River neglected to notice that the pair had finally stopped bludgeoning him and were just staring at him.

"You some kind of idiot, little doggie?" one finally asked.

"Yeah, you some kind of idiot?" the other said.

River only glared at the pair as his reply.

"Aw, crap, now we're gonna be late," the second one remarked to the first.

The first one thought it over for a moment. "Hey, little doggie, be a good little boy and stay here a couple hours. We'll be back before you know it and you better still be here or else," the man said, punctuating his demand with a brandished fist before turning to leave. The other man followed him.

The two men left, leaving the supine River gasping as he clutched at the ground. His thoughts churned as his mind raced through the possibilities.

If he stayed, they were sure to come back and leave him in even worse condition than he was now. But did he have enough strength to get up and get very far? His physique tempering was at a mere second-grade Human realm, barely stronger than a person who hadn't cultivated at all, while those guys were stronger than that.

Even if he did get away, those men could track him down with ease. At best, they would pummel him even more for running away. At worst, they could trace him to the Flowing Water clan and pressure them. His situation in the clan was already terrible enough, but with an outside excuse like pressure from Brave Dragon's forces and they might expel him or worse.

River's thoughts churned, each scenario playing out to a worse end than the one before it. His hands balled into fists and he pushed against the ground in frustration. If only he lived up to his name! If only he had real strength! Then nobody could have taken Sweet Nectar from him! Then he could do better than obediently wait here to die!

Thinking of his name that he failed to live up to, looking at his fists, he could recall the story of his naming. After he had been born, after a particularly difficult birth, he was not a particularly robust newborn. His father had poked at him with concern, and his little infant hand had grasped at the finger, a strong grip that immediately allayed the worries about his fortitude. A member of the Flowing Water clan who took their names from bodies of water, he was thus named Strong River.

He had not cried out during the beating, he had held back his tears for Sweet Nectar, but a dam inside of River burst open as he recalled the few hazy memories he had of the tall man and kind woman who were his parents. When the sickness took them a decade ago marked the beginning of his tribulations. The clan members treated him as a slave, the villagers avoided him, and only Sweet Nectar had been kind to him.

And now she was gone.

Wallowing in despair, considering that perhaps letting the bandit thugs finish him off once and for all was the best of all possibilities, an ancient voice rang from above.

"What's the crying about, boy? Can't you see I'm taking a nap here!?"

Startled, River lifted his head and searched the surroundings but found nobody there. Oh great, now he was also going mad before he died? His breath quickened.

"Hmmmm... interesting..." the voice mused out loud. "Well, just calm down a minute. I think we can come to an arrangement, but I'm only a poor little spirit here," the voice continued, gently, warmly. "You can call me Mister Black, and it's your lucky day. You see, it appears I'm here to help you get your revenge."

With that last word, River felt as though a bolt of lightning struck him, galvanizing him on the spot. "M-mister, how do you know about that? Where are you?"

"Hoh-hoh," the voice replied, "of course this grandpa knows all about that. Just give me a second here now..." the man's voice sounded strained, as though he was lifting a heavy load. "And... there."

The copper ring on River's thumb warmed. Before his eyes, a small figure leapt out of the ring and floated in the air. It was a wizened old man in a long black robe, a great white beard flowing down his chest. His face was lined with age and with little laugh lines, but the most remarkable feature of his were his eyes. Rather than normal human eyes, it seemed as though he had the starry night sky itself filling those orbs. It gave the man an added air of mysteriousness.

Stroking his long white beard with a hand, the old man chuckled, "Surprised, my boy? This old ghost and his heirloom hail from beyond the starry sky, and I'm here to help you out."

"Why me?" River had suffered too much for too long to swallow this magical pill from the heavens with ease.

"That's a very good question!" Mister Black blew out a gust of air that lifted his beard. "Somehow you ended up with my ring, so there's that. Let's just call it... destiny, my boy. The vast heavens are fickle, but they open the way for those who endure."

River nodded at that. He had definitely endured much. "So, Mister, not to offend you or anything but... you're not all that solid. How are you supposed to help me?"

The little spirit man laughed. "Ah, a bright boy! Asking the right questions! This old man here isn't all that substantial, after all. But in my thousands of years of life, I learned a great many things, miraculous things, things you wouldn't believe if I told them to you now..." the old man's starry-eyed gaze looked off into the distance a moment before he shook his head. "But that's for the future and you, my boy, need help right now. What do you say, little River, will you take my help?"

River thought it over. It was true; there were tales of great men who had help from wise spirits who came before, leaping over the gates of transformation and ascending into the heavens to lord above all.

But River had endured a lot in his rather short life. "I'm not turning away a gift from heaven, mister, but what's the price for this?"

Mister Black smiled, the laugh lines around his eyes crinkling. "Well, my boy, everything."

River was stunned, but as a chill crept up his spine and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up the old man chuckled and winked at him. "Well, that's if you don't work hard. I have powerful things to teach you, but if you screw it up, well, it'll be over," the old man snapped his fingers, "just like that! But it's only with strength that you can obtain that which you desire most, my boy. That's the most important law of the world."

River exhaled the breath he was holding. The hairs on the back of his neck still stood up, but he was too concerned weighing the benefits here. If he rejected this old man, his life was likely going to be over very shortly. Who would avenge Sweet Nectar then? Who would stomp Brave Dragon into the dirt and dismantle his bandit forces that kept the local people locked in fear?

He could become strong; he could do it all. On top of the stack rather than at the bottom, he'd be above fear, above suffering. Nobody would torment him again.

Certain death on one hand, actual strength on the other. Standing between the pits of Hell and the vaults of Heaven, it was a no-brainer. Even if he couldn't go all the way, if he failed and lost this wager with his life on the line, what was he losing anyway? He might as well put it all on the table before it was taken from him.

"Okay, Mister Black, we have ourselves a deal, I guess. Where do we begin?"