Cold Night

A strange yet familiar voice began echoing in his ears.

"You must not forget."

"Who are you? What must I not forget?" he replied, his voice tinged with curiosity and concern.

"You must not forget our sacrifice," the voice urged.

"What do you mean? Please, answer me," he pleaded, his tone becoming more urgent as he sought clarity from the mysterious voice.

"Please tell me!" he exclaimed.

THUD!

With a sudden jolt, a young man tumbled from his bed.

As usual, his entire body drenched in sweat, his clothes clinging uncomfortably to his skin. 

His name was Fang Xuan, inherited from his father. 

Sitting up, he gazed at the stars and the dark sky in his window, a reminder that dawn was still a long way off. 

A gust of icy wind swept through him, causing his fragile body to tremble. 

'It's really cold,' he sighed, glancing around his room. It was his own private place, mostly constructed of wood with aging furniture.

At this point, he forced himself to stand up and switched on the lamp on his desk. 

The room was bathed in a soft orange glow, making it easier for him to locate the pitcher of water—a metallic vessel sitting on the desk. 

He poured himself a cup of water and drank it down.

'Why do I always have those nightmares?' he thought, still holding the cup and absentmindedly playing with it as he contemplated. 

He had been having those nightmares since he turned 16, and he had even visited some doctors who always dismissed it, claiming it was all in his head. 

As he pondered about his nightmares, he noticed a paper on his desk. 

He picked it up and re-read its contents. 

'So the Coming of Age ceremony is tomorrow, huh,' he sighed. 

In this world, 16 was the legal age of consent, and it was also when young men and women with talent in martial arts underwent an aptitude test to determine their future.

Normally, young people like him would be excited about this event, but for Fang Xuan, it was a disaster. 

The Coming of Age ceremony was merely a tradition; in reality, individuals knew from a young age if they had talent or not. They would naturally be stronger and learn things faster than there peers. 

But what about him?

Since he was young, Fang Xuan had a fragile and weak body. 

He also suffered from a condition that made him feel weak whenever sunlight touched his skin—an allergic reaction to the one thing that was always present in the world.

Talk about about bad luck. 

Nighttime offered slight relief, but this hindered his ability to practice or train effectively, leaving his body thin and frail. 

As he looked at his forearm, he could see the outlines of his bones through his skin. It wasn't because his parents didn't treat him well; rather, he had always struggled to eat because of his poor appetite, which contributed to his thin physique. 

'Should I not attend?' he pondered. 'No, I'm sure I'll be forced to go tomorrow. It's tradition after all. This village is too strict. I can't even make my own decisions,' he sighed, resigned to his fate. 

Despite his doubts and reluctance, he knew he had little choice but to participate. 

The elders and martial artist in the village had always emphasized the importance of heritage and lineage. 

To defy tradition was almost unheard of, and the pressure to conform weighed heavily on him. 

'I need to sleep. It would be much worse if I go there looking like a dead person,' he muttered to himself, and forced his fragile body back into bed

Slowly he drifted off to sleep, hoping to find some break before the daunting day ahead.