Devourer of Saints

In the early morning, the chill of the night still lingered over Luoyang Town. At this hour, most people were just waking up; the streets lay deserted, with only the occasional figure passing by.

At that moment, on a clearing in the hills behind the small town, a slender young boy was supporting himself on his hands, methodically performing push-ups again and again. Beads of sweat as large as beans trickled slowly down his gaunt cheeks. With each rise and fall, the jade pendant hanging from his neck swung back and forth.

Nine hundred.

Nine hundred and one.

...

Nine hundred and ninety...

The boy murmured the count under his breath.

Time slipped by, second after second. Yet the boy persisted, never pausing. Only his movements became slightly slower than before.

"Train, train, train..."

This mantra echoed ceaselessly in the boy’s mind. Perhaps it was the relentless training, for his face was flushed with a feverish hue.

With a dull thud, the boy finally collapsed, arms unable to lift his body any longer, and fell heavily onto the ground.

Feeling the numbing ache coursing through his body, the boy paused to catch his breath, then forced himself upright, legs crossed, fingers interlaced, and eyes closing at last.

Suddenly, wisps of milky-white vapor, visible only to the keenest eye, began to swirl around him and then seeped into his body. But as time passed, the furrow between his brows only deepened.

"Why, after all these years of bitter training, does it always end like this? I can