Legend of the Divine Archer

Long black hair fell around his face in unkempt strands, partially obscuring the worn ribbon tied around his eyes, covering the empty sockets that once held the light of his sight.

His clothes were coarse and dirty, the fabric a dull gray, frayed at the edges from constant wear. Despite his disheveled appearance, there was a quiet dignity in the way he stood, his posture straight, his head slightly tilted as if listening to the world around him. His skin, pale and smudged with dirt, bore the signs of a life lived in struggle and survival.

His hand, calloused and weathered, traced the worn inscriptions on his uncle's tombstone, the stone cold and rough beneath his fingers. The tmb had been neglected over the years, overgrown with weeds and the inscriptions barely legible. Yan Jin's memories flooded back to him, the echoes of his childhood spent with his uncle before the incident that changed everything.

Yan Jin's journey had begun in a different world altogether. In his past life, Yan Jin had been renowned as a skilled and disciplined archer, known for his remarkable precision and accuracy with a bow. He hailed from a distant land, where he had trained tirelessly from a young age to master the art of archery.

His life revolved around his craft, and he had earned recognition and respect among his peers.

As a professional archer, Yan Jin had traveled far and wide, competing in tournaments and demonstrations, showcasing his extraordinary talent to audiences across the land. His bow was his most prized possession, a finely crafted instrument that he treated with the utmost care and reverence.

But Yan Jin's career as an archer came to an abrupt end when he suffered a debilitating shoulder injury during a fateful expedition. Despite his best efforts to rehabilitate and recover, the injury proved to be too severe, forcing him to retire from the sport he loved.

It was a devastating blow, stripping him of his identity and purpose, leaving him adrift in a world that suddenly felt unfamiliar and hostile. His life took an unexpected turn when tragedy struck in the form of a landslide while he was touring in Indonesia. The catastrophe claimed his life, cutting short his promising career and leaving behind an unfinished legacy.

His first memory of his new life was the face of his uncle, lifting him from the forest floor with a look of profound kindness and concern. In his tiny, newborn hand, he clutched a purple Jade necklace. It didn't take long for Yan Jin to adjust to his new reality, his memories of his previous life granting him wisdom far beyond his years.

His intellect quickly set him apart from the other children, earning him the title of Young Sage for those who knew him. His uncle, ever proud, did not hesitate to brag about every single one of Yan Jin's accomplishments. They shared a bond forged in love, and Yan Jin thrived under his uncle's guidance and encouragement.

But tragedy struck on the night of his fifth birthday. After leaving the Yan clan's archive library, where he had been delving into ancient texts, Yan Jin stumbled upon a scene that would alter his fate forever.

In a secluded corner, he saw Yan Li, the eldest son of the clan leader, engaged in a forbidden act with his father's third wife. Horrified, Yan Jin tried to back away, but his presence had been noticed.

To silence him, the couple pinned him down. Yan Li's face twisted with malice, his voice dripping with venom. "Nosy little brat," he spat. The third wife held Yan Jin's arms down with surprising strength, her eyes glinting with fear and cruelty. Yan Li retrieved a torch from the shadows, the flames dancing ominously.

"No, please! Don't!" Yan Jin cried, struggling vainly against their grip. But his pleas fell on deaf ears. Yan Li brought the torch close to Yan Jin's face, the heat searing the air. "Next time, learn what not to see," he hissed. With deliberate cruelty, he pressed the molten necklace into Yan Jin's eyes.

The boy's screams pierced the night, a raw, primal sound of agony that echoed through the corridors.

His uncle had been out hunting, returning just in time to stumble upon the horrific scene. He saw his beloved nephew writhing on the ground, his face a mask of blood and molten metal. Rage and grief overwhelmed him. With a furious roar, he lunged at Yan Li, his one arm swinging his sword with desperate fury.

The third consort, sensing danger, tried to intervene, but his blade found its mark, leaving a deep gash across her face.

In the chaos that followed, his uncle scooped up the injured Yan Jin, clutching him tightly against his chest. They fled into the night, their footsteps echoing through the forest as they ran for their lives. Yan Jin clung to his uncle's neck, his heart pounding in fear and pain. Each step sent waves of agony through his body, but his uncle pressed on, his determination unwavering.

They reached the edge of a cliff, the sounds of pursuit close behind. With no other option, his uncle lowered Yan Jin down the steep, rocky slope, using his own body to shield the boy from the fall. They landed hard, the impact jolting through them both, but his uncle quickly regained his footing, lifting Yan Jin once more as they continued their desperate flight.

Eventually, they stumbled upon a small, secluded creek village, hidden deep in the forest. The villagers, seeing the state they were in, took them in and tended to their wounds. Yan Jin's eyes were beyond saving, the molten metal having irreparably damaged them. His uncle, too, had sustained grievous injuries. He lay in a small hut, his breaths shallow and labored.

"Yan Jin," his uncle whispered, his voice weak. "You must be strong. Live for me. Remember, you are my greatest pride."

Tears streamed down Yan Jin's face as he held his uncle's hand. "I promise, Uncle. I will honor your memory. I will survive." With a final, shuddering breath, his uncle passed away, leaving Yan Jin alone in the world. The villagers helped him as much as they could, but the boy had to learn to navigate his new reality on his own.

Every day since his uncle's death, Yan Jin had made this pilgrimage to the tomb. It was a ritual he had begun as a child, driven by a need to honor the man who had meant so much to him. He would stand by the tomb, recounting his memories and sharing his thoughts as if his uncle could still hear him.

It was his way of keeping the connection alive, of seeking solace in the presence of the one person who had truly protected him.

"Uncle," Yan Jin whispered, his voice barely more than a breath, "it's been ten years. Ten long years since you left me. I still remember your stories, your laughter. I remember how you taught me to be strong, even when everything seemed hopeless."

He paused, the words catching in his throat. "I remember the night we fled, how you carried me on your shoulders one last time. I remember the sacrifice you made. I promise you, I will honor your memory. I will survive." The wind picked up, rustling the leaves around him. Yan Jin felt a familiar ache in his chest, a mix of longing and sorrow, a sense of loss that had never fully healed.