Chapter 1: The Corpse of a Noob Rain. It was the only sound the farmhouse knew anymore. Not the gentle, life-giving rain of spring planting, but the heavy, corpulent drops of the Ambira wet season—the kind that turned the dirt road into a river of pig slop and pounded the thatched roof with the insistence of a thousand angry fists. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of damp wool and cooling ashes. A single oil lamp fought a losing battle against the encroaching shadows, its flame guttering with every howl of wind that slipped through the cracked mud walls. On a cot pushed against the far corner, Lin Wu lay with his eyes closed, but he was not asleep. Sleep was a mercy the world had stopped offering him three days ago. He was seventeen. His hands were calloused from the plow, not from the hilt of a sword. His meridians, as the visiting practitioner from the Wu main branch had once laughed, were "...
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