Family. what a word. But, family is just a word. It will always be just a word. This isn't just the case for family that treats you badly or family that isn't really your family, because family shouldn't mean you have to do something. Family shouldn't mean that you have to give up something for someone else, family shouldn't mean that you are forever connected and nothing can break you apart. That's not what family means.

I honestly don't think anyone really knows what family means. Family is supposed to mean those who are blood-related to you... but blood is just a liquid. If blood were what connected us as human beings, wouldn't we all be family? And sure DNA might have something to do with what family means, but DNA is just a fact. A scientific fact.

Someone giving birth to you makes them your mother by fact, DNA, and blood. Someone giving you a sense of what the word family really means has nothing to do with facts, DNA, or blood.

If you can look at someone and think, they are my family, (and not in the sense that they are related to you)if you can really sit and think and say they are my family. mine. They love me, I love them and We Are Family.Then you know what this word means.

The biggest misinterpretation people make about the word family is that you can't choose it. And they're right, you can't choose who your family is. But not in the way that most people think. You can't choose who you're related to, and you can't choose who’s family to you. If they give you that family feeling, whether you like it or not they are family. and that's what family means.

That's what I believe family means. But, like I said, family is just a word. Family is just a word because it can mean anything. You won't find any true meaning in a dictionary because that feeling that you're looking for, apparently, there's not a word for it.

please read, tw: disturbing images that may not be suitable for some readers, especially marked with asterisks** (child death). please proceed with caution.

Ren Liufang staggers into the street, clutching her head and eyes blown open. She breathes like she’s being choked, like there’s a hand squeezing around her neck.

The night is just beginning to creep into the air, lanterns being lit and the stalls just opening. Ren Liufang avoids them as she stumbles into the darkest alleyway, collapsing against the wall with uneven breaths.

She had known. She should have known from the moment she had stepped into the town. She thought she had enough time.

Ren Liufang hacks into the ground, blood shooting out of her throat and onto the ground. She rubs it off with her palm, and it smears on her finger. She can still taste the remainder of that man’s blood from before, how he had writhed and begged her to stop before she was forced to do so. She lays on the ground, heaving dryly through her mouth and gasping frailly.

Ren Liufang has not eaten in days. She tugs weakly at the bandages wound around her neck, every rise and fall of her chest being obscured by the tightly bound cloth. Crawling through the dirt, she shakily rises to her trembling legs.

“Kill him.”

Ren Liufang grips her sword like a lifeline, sweat pooling in the cracks of her palm. She squeezes her eyes shut and listens.

“I know,” she whispers, half a curse, “But not tonight.”

Xiu Lihua’s face still lingers in her mind like a painting she can’t burn. She knows the shadow is rattled by it too, despite what it tries to tell her. She exhales and tries to erase it all. It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way.

The black mark snarls. It dugs its nails into Ren Liufang’s neck until blood beads at the tips and creeps up the back of her neck. She covers her ears, clawing at the skin around her head. Her knuckles turn white, fingers bent severely as she attempts to scratch out the sound coming from her mind.

“You don’t have a choice,” it spits.

Ignoring it, Ren Liufang mounts her sword and flies away, towards the forest.

❀ ❀ ❀

“It’s gotten worse, hasn’t it?” The Cheng Sect Leader smiles, fingers playing with the long raven locks of Ren Liufang’s hair. She shivers, rubbing the edge of her bandages.

“It has,” she admits. The Sect Leader pats her head and leaves her side, looping around to her desk and pulling out a slip of paper. Ren Liufang can still feel the shadow of her hand where it touched, and it sits uncomfortably in her mind as she struggles to focus beyond the erratic thumping of her chest.

“They don’t deserve to live,” she suddenly hears, and it all comes flooding back like an old memory Ren Liufang had tried to forget. She presses her hands to her ears unconsciously, faintly registering The Cheng Sect Leader’s pitying gaze.

“You should’ve come earlier. You would’ve had more time that way,” she says. Ren Liufang shakes her head.

“I couldn’t,” she says, not sure who she’s talking to,“There were... obstacles.”

“Obstacles...” The Sect Leader’s eyes narrow. She lets it go though, padding up to Ren Liufang and slipping a sheet of paper into her hands. Ren Liufang looks at it disorientedly, hands shaking faintly as she grips the text.

“Brothel... owner?” she whispers incredulously. The Sect Leader nods.

“Have you heard of him?” She asks. Ren Liufang tightens her lips.

“That was from the town I just in... He wasn’t—”

Suddenly, The Cheng Sect Leader grabs Ren Liufang’s shoulders and slams her into a wall, fist ghosting over her throat. Her eyes glow almost blue, blazing with rage. Ren Liufang swallows.

“Don’t tell me you let him live,” The Leader says quietly, pressing her fist down on her neck. Ren Liufang straightens her back in an attempt to catch a breath.

“He was... close to death anyways. Disease,” she gasps out.

The Sect Leader scans over her for a few more tentative seconds before releasing her. Ren Liufang slumps, coughing lightly and rubbing her bandages where The Leader had bruised it.

“Damn, brothel’s are dirty,” The Cheng Sect Leader mutters lowly. “He’s your best bet though, we only just found out about Zhoucheng, so you’d better go back.”

Ren Liufang falls silent at that. The Sect Leader looks at her curiously. She raps her knuckles against the mahogany wood, seemingly in deep thought.

“You’re getting soft,” she notes, not without threat. Ren Liufang averts her eyes.

“There is no such thing,” she says. The Cheng Sect Leader scoffs.

“On top of making me do so much work as to pick out certain ‘targets’ for you, of course you’d have to do a background check yourself before moving on,” she says.

“I would be a fool to trust you,” Ren Liufang replies. The Sect Leader simpers again. She touches Ren Liufang’s shoulders and squeezes it until the muscles tense beneath curled fingers. Ren Liufang doesn’t flinch, but the corner of her mouth tightens.

“As would I,” The Cheng Sect Leader says, saccharine.

They lock gazes for a second, older trained on the younger, one generation on the next.

The elder looks away first, sweeping her sleeves away.

“Don’t get too caught up on Xiu Lihua,” The Sect Leader says quietly. Ren Liufang nods stiffly. The Sect Leader returns her gaze, suddenly softening. She raises her hand again, but instead of bringing it down forcefully like Ren Liufang had predicted, she gently strokes the top of her head.

She blinks, flinching under the cold touch.

“It’s soft.”

For no reason at all, Ren Liufang feels tears gathering at the corner of her eyes. A vestige of the past slowly drapes over her eyes and obscures reality.

“I won’t die,” she says softly, the unspoken words fading. The Sect Leaders hums.

“Good.”

❀ ❀ ❀

Ren Liufang collapses onto the forest floor, barely on the outskirts of the city, clawing weakly at the foliage and half choking herself with her own hand. She feels as if she is dying, like the sorrow and anger is eating her alive. The black mark surges across her face, claiming the left side of her body like a demon consuming its host.

“Go back! Find him!” it screams at her. Ren Liufang clutches her sword, digging her palm into the blade for a grounding presence.

She is losing. She is losing and she is losing and I’m so sorry I couldn’t live—

The moon leers at her from above. Ren Liufang cranes her head up at it and curses at it.

“Are happy now, Chang’e?” She yells, voice breaking. She imagines she looks pathetic.

“Noble Xiong Jinli? Now, who was the one that gave me that name in the first place?”

Ren Liufang slumps, legs folding and barely holding by leaning on the hilt of her sword. Her left eye clouds over, the black tendril plucking her vision away. She opens her mouth, but she cannot breathe.

“The moon.”

Honglei rattles under her body weight. Ren Liufang narrows her eye, hacking out another mouthful of blood.

“I will live.”

The city lights disturb her with their brightness. It is silent, only the sound of rustling leaves being heard. Ren Liufang’s chest burns with newfound wrath.

“Set me free, please. Please set me free.”

She pulls at her bandages, gritting her teeth. Her wound from earlier that day aches in protest, red soaking into the ivory of the cloth. She ignores the pain, continuing to unravel them, one at a time.

“Ren Liufang!”

Her head snaps up. Her working eye widens as she registers a large male form suddenly heading towards her, robes swishing around him.

“Cheng Bowen!” She unsheathes her sword and aims it at him in a single movement, causing him to halt in his tracks. “Do not get any closer!” She yells, arm trembling.

“Ren Liufang!” Cheng Bowen says again, voice more panicked now, “You don’t have to—we can figure this out!”

“There is nothing to figure out!” Ren Liufang clenches her teeth. The curse mark roars through her ribcage, and she nearly doubles over in pain. Cheng Bowen looks at a loss.

Girl, standing across from her. Lost expression, butterfly scars.

Ren Liufang falters. Her arms lowers slightly. Cheng Bowen breaks out into a relieved smile and steps forward, arms raised.

“It’s going to be okay,” he says slowly, “I know, Ren Liufang, Ren Ju,”

Ren Ju, childhood. Mother, father, friend.

“My name is not Ren Ju,” she snarls, “I am not Ren Ju. Do not call me by that name. Do not call me by that name!” Honglei bares its teeth. Her left eye blazes with vehemence, scorching her eyesocket, and her heart beats out of her chest, beating to the point where she can’t count the thumps.

Mother, father, friend. Mother, father, friend.

Ren Liufang looks around in a frenzy. The ground looks too close, the sky looks too far. The city lights blur through her vision and smash into pieces. The sound of screaming reaches her ears, rattling her skull.

“I want to live I want to live I want to live I want to live I want to—”

“I want to live!”

“Ren Ju!”

Ren Liufang snaps out of her daze, lifting her head to see Cheng Bowen reaching a hand towards her. His sword is on the ground beside him, and his expression is steeled.

“It’s okay,” he says quietly, “It’s okay.”

“It’s okay,” the girl says as she reaches out a hand. The smaller girl gazes up at her, scabbed knees bleeding and matted with dirt. The wooden sword lays a few feet away from them, the training dummy towering above them both.“It’s okay,” the girl repeats, shaking her hand. Slowly, Ren Liufang takes it.

“It’s okay,” the woman says fondly, carding her fingers through her daughter’s hair. A man sits beside them both, holding them to his chest. Ren Liufang cries into their chests, tiny hands fisting into the thin cloth, just a small length away from the expanse of bandages that covered them both. Their heartbeats beat slowly, and their skin is freezing cold.

Ren Liufang blinks. The curse mark falls silent.

Slowly, it recedes. A tear tracks down the edge of her cheek.

“No, no no no no no,” she whispers, clawing at her eyes. She looks back up, face twisting in a harsh sob. “Xiu Ying?”

The curse mark howls in pain. Cheng Bowen exhales. Ren Liufang shakes her head, eyelids fluttering erratically.

“Mother, father, I am sorry. I am sorry I am sorry I am sorry if only—Xiu Ying didn’t—how could she—” Ren Liufang falls to her knees. Cheng Bowen rushes towards her, gripping her shoulders as a grounding force.

“Ren Liufang, Ren Liufang!” He yells, shaking her fallen shoulders.

Ren Liufang looks up at him, but her eyes are clouded.

“Xiu Ying,” she utters, “Why did you—how could you—” suddenly, her facial expressions seize, and she cries out in pain.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you,” Ren Liufang suddenly latches forward, digging her nails into Cheng Bowen’s forearms.

“Ren Liufang, I’m not—” Cheng Bowen tries, but she cuts him off.

“Back then, do you remember? All that I did for you?” She continues, voice pitching, “I would do anything for you. I would kill everyone in the world, I would infect everyone with disease, I would make everyone suffer if they even thought about putting a hand on you!” Ren Liufang pauses to breath, head tearing itself low, “So why—so why?”

Cheng Bowen puts his hand on top of her white knuckles. “Ren Liufang this isn’t—”

“How could you do this to me?!” Ren Liufang screams, suddenly grabbing her sword and slicing it upwards with all her force.

Cheng Bowen lets out a pained gasp. He falls backward, hand gripping his side where red leaks out. Ren Liufang lets out a guttural alew.

“Why, why, why?”

“Xiu Lihua has deserted the Ren Sect.”

“It’s too late to save them.”

“When she was born, they—”

Cheng Bowen quickly scrambles backwards and grabs his sword from behind him as the woman leaps towards him and smashes her sword down.

“I want to live. I want to live.”

“But, Xiu Lihua—”

Ren Liufang leans close to her, pupils blurred, tears streaming down her face.

“You can die first.”

❀ ❀ ❀

Ren Liufang knows something is deathly wrong the moment she steps into that cave. The air buzzes around her as she leads both Xiu Lihua and Cheng Bowen through the narrow caverns, fists clenching and unclenching as she moves.

She’s been here before, handprint bloodied as she limps through the cave, curse mark killing her from the inside out. She falls onto the ground, sputtering out her last breaths as she—

Ren Liufang swallows, leading them past the corner where she knows, undoubtably, that there are fierce corpses waiting for them. Cheng Bowen pulls out his sword, and Xiu Lihua gets into fighting stance. She gets ready, Honglei flashing crimson in her grip.

Cheng Bowen presses his back into hers, and she knows that it is him because they have spent nearly a year fighting side by side, wrapping bandages around each other and carrying each other on their backs.

She tries not to think about Xiu Lihua, fighting on her own, away from them.

Something is wrong. She is not fighting a stranger. All of the fierce corpses... The robes hanging of their bodies, the expressions on their faces.

Ren Liufang suddenly grimaces as her curse mark flares to life on her chest, wailing in pain. Cheng Bowen glances at her, his eyes widening. Ren Liufang suddenly catches the eye of the leading corpse, the one at the front. The spirit groans and raises his arm to reveal a blackened ribcage, a smatter of deathly ebonies across his chest and a pained expression on his face.

“I want to live!”

Ren Liufang realizes something. In the commotion, she reaches towards the corpse, fingertips brushing over the rotten flesh.

“You are—”

“Xiong Jinli!”

Ren Liufang snaps back into reality, right as the corpse rakes his nails across her shoulder. Cheng Bowen shouts. She falls.

“Who are you?”

After the arrival of the veiled woman, Ren Liufang drags herself upright, attempting to stauch the blood flooding from her shoulder. Suddenly however, Xiu Lihua rushes towards her, expression panicked. 

“You’re injured,” Her hands scramble for Ren Liufang’s wound, pulling her hands away and looking over the wound. “Let me see if it’s—if it’s—” 

Ren Liufang blinks, body going numb under Xiu Lihua’s touch. Even the curse mark freezes in its tracks, and she can only thank it for not reaching above her shoulder.

“Xiu Lihua,” she murmurs, more out of habit than anything. The woman turns her face up to Ren Liufang, visibly concerned. 

“Why do you look like that? Why do you look so—worried?” 

“You could have died,” Xiu Lihua breathes out. Ren Liufang feels a pang in her chest, but it is not from the black mark. She can only gape at her, growing more confused by the minute. 

“I will be—alright,” she replies sloppily, knowing far too well it is too early to make that kind of promise. The wound could get infected. Ren Liufang could die. 

Still, looking into Xiu Lihua’s glistening eyes, there was nothing else she could do. 

“Alright?” Xiu Lihua repeats, “Ren Liufang, did you hear me? You could have died! What do you take me for?”

“Why the hell do you care?” 

Ren Liufang fists her robes and averts her eyes, gritting her teeth. Xiu Lihua latches onto the front of her clothes, voice rising. 

“Don’t—don’t act so shocked that I—that I don’t want to see you dead!” Xiu Lihua wrings her hands, seemingly growing more and more frustrated, “Ren Liufang, you idiot! It may have been seven years since we’ve last seen each other, but that doesn’t mean—”

Seven years. 

Xiu Lihua stiffens. Ren Liufang whirls back to look at her, lips parted in shock. 

“It’s been seven years.” 

“Hey,” Cheng Bowen interrupts, and for the first time, Ren Liufang is grateful. She immediately directs all her attention to him and the veiled woman, turning away from Xiu Lihua. His wound looks much worse than hers, and a flash of guilt runs through her mind at this. 

Xiu Lihua and her don’t speak after that. Not until after the doctor peels Ren Liufang’s bandages away, and she has to bribe her quiet. Not until they book a room at a tiny inn, with only one bed. Not until the woman spills her soul to her, soft and scared.

It takes all that Ren Liufang has to not speak, to listen to Xiu Lihua’s confession and to sleep afterwards. She doesn’t comment the two words echoing through her head the entire time.

The curse mark stirs, and she whispers it now, where Xiu Lihua cannot possible hear her.

“You liar.” 

❀ ❀ ❀

Xiu Lihua threads her fingers through her hair and paces, her loud footsteps reverberating through the wooden hallways. She stresses her bottom lip, anxiously waiting for the moment Shi Jinghui allows her back into the main inn room. 

(He had kicked her out earlier, muttering about how he “couldn’t trust cultivators” and “knew it was going to happen”. Xiu Lihua hadn’t the energy to correct him, not when she partially agreed. She didn’t even protest when he shut the door in her face to tend to the patient.)

Cheng Bowen had long gone, presumably to go after Ren Liufang. Ren Liufang thinks that she maybe should’ve followed him or even taken his place, but as she dwells on it, she bitterly realized that she would only get in the way. 

Seven years was a long time after all. 

Every time Xiu Lihua closes her eyes, she can see the skinny figure of Ren Liufang bent over that helpless man, sword raised and murderous. She shakes her head to dispel the image, but it sticks in the grooves of her still-processing mind. She fiddles with the edges of her robes, eyes flicking from the door to the floor. 

(She can remember it so clearly, Ren Liufang, young but scarily gaunt, shielding her from a group of bullies that had come their way. Xiu Lihua knew that it wasn’t easy for the other girl, not when she’s spent so much time watching people be beat up and punished in front of her, but at the moment, she was so proud and so relieved. 

Was that Ren Liufang gone? The one that had protected her, laughed with her, cried with her, and the one that she could even say—loved?) 

Suddenly, a loud shout comes from the main room. Xiu Lihua startles out of her stupor, sprinting to the door and tearing it open.

Shi Jinghui winces as he holds his side, exhaling heavily. His eyes point towards the man practically writhing in the middle of the room, hand fisted in the front of his shirt. 

From his collar, a large black mark protrudes. 

Xiu Lihua’s eyes widen. She draws her sword, sending a bright blue flash through the room. The man quickly snaps his head towards her, and his gaze zeros in on the blade. He leaps at her, and Xiu Lihua quickly blocks him, gritting her teeth against his unusually strong power. 

“Shi-yisheng! What happened?!” She shouts to the doctor, who looks between the two of them in shock. 

“I—I don’t know,” he admits panickedly, “I was just tending to him when—” suddenly, his eyes narrow, “Your cultivator friend didn’t drug him into this, did she?” 

Xiu Lihua opens her mouth to say “No, Ren Ju would never do that,” when a wave of uncertainty hits her. Shutting her mouth, she averts her eyes. Shi Jinghui presses his lips together. 

“Go,” he says. The man yells and leaps away, only to come back in full force. Xiu Lihua grunts, as she looks over confusedly to the doctor. He looks back, resolved. “I can handle things here.” 

“But you’re—” Xiu Lihua struggles, “But you won’t be able to hold him off!” 

“I trust in my ability far more than I trust you cultivators,” Shi Jinghui replies icily. Something whips out from his sleeve, and instantly, the man is back on the ground, held down by something Xiu Lihua can’t entirely see. She breathes out in shock. Shi Jinghui glances coldly at her. 

Xiu Lihua focuses back on the man and the mark slowly snaking up his throat. He thrashes and lets out a guttural roar. 

Something stirs in her chest. 

She takes one last look behind her before rushing out of the inn. 

❀ ❀ ❀

Ren Liufang pants, liquid running down her temple and Honglei dangling beside her in her hand. Across from her, Cheng Bowen holds steady, looking pained. She shouts as she jumps forward once again, clashing swords with who was once her ally. 

“Die.” 

“Ren Liufang, please!” He pushes back, taking a broad swing with his sword. The woman dodges by a hair’s length, gritting her teeth. She thrusts her sword at his chest, but he angles his body away from it in a second, his breath catching. 

The curse mark has crept over her arms by now, painting them charcoal black. Ren Liufang blinks frequently, red ringing her eyelids. She can’t entirely hear anymore or even see, heartbeat skipping in her chest. 

Behind them, the village burns as screams echo through the night. She sees Cheng Bowen steal a glance at the catastrophe and takes the chance, slicing swiftly through his lower abdomen. At the same time, he stabs her in the side, eyes blazing. 

Ren Liufang takes this chance to reverse her slicing pattern and strike the hilt of her sword onto the crown of his head, sending him into the dirt. Cheng Bowen’s sword skitters away from him. He grabs her hair and pulls her down with him, slamming her head into the ground. 

“Stop this! Stop this!” He repeats, blood rushing out of his teeth. Ren Liufang snarls and scratches him in the eyes. He releases her, and she skirts away, vision spinning. 

Ren Liufang can hear screams, but she doesn’t know where they’re from. 

“Just a little more, if I can take just a little more—” Ren Liufang presses her palms frantically to the cold skin below, crying out as she sucks the writhing shadow into her veins.  

“A-ju, it’s alright,” her mother places her hand on Ren Liufang’s, smiling weakly, “You’ve done enough.” 

“But—but I can’t—or else you’ll—” 

“It’s alright,” her father repeated. “It’ll be alright.” 

Ren Liufang screams, blooding running down her face and tears streaming down her cheeks. The noise of the city drowns out all other sound, the cries of the people and the shouts of resistance. 

“This is because of you,” 

“This is because of her,” 

“Stop it!” Ren Liufang rakes her nails down her face, Honglei dripping with red. She stumbles towards the city, attracted by the bright lights, “I need—I need—”

Suddenly, two arms circle around her waist and smash her into the ground. She claws at the mud as Cheng Bowen curls his hands around her neck.

“I can’t let you do that,” he grits out. “I can’t let you—kill them—” 

“It wasn’t me!” she chokes on her own blood, eyes barely able to open. She brings Honglei down on Cheng Bowen’s hands, but he doesn’t relent, “Let me go!” 

“The curse marks—I don’t know what they are but—” Cheng Bowen inhales a large breath hoarsely, eyes blazing as he squeezes harder, “You were going to kill him because of that—” 

“Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up!” Ren Liufang thrashes in his hold, breath growing faint, “You don’t know anything!” Her vision spots at the edges, specks of black invading in. She digs her nails into his fingers, but it’s no use. 

“I know,” Cheng Bowen’s voice suddenly grows quiet, “I know because you were the one that killed the former Cheng sect leader.” 

Ren Liufang stiffens. 

“It has to be done.” 

“He’s too far gone.”

“He’s refusing all treatment.” 

“He won’t go on missions anymore.” 

“He’ll kill us all one day.” 

“Ren Liufang.” 

“Ren Liufang. 

“Ren Liufang.” 

“No. No. No. No. No. No.” 

“Cheng Bowen, let her go!” A shrill voice splits through the clearing, halting both of them in their tracks. Using the last of her strength, Ren Liufang turns towards the voice. 

“It’s her.” 

“It’s her.”

A sword hurtles towards them. In dodging, Cheng Bowen releases her, and Ren Liufang falls onto the ground, dry-retching. Xiu Lihua rushes towards her. 

“Xiu Lihua stop!” Cheng Bowen cries out. Xiu Lihua ignores him, heading towards Ren Liufang with a fury. 

“Ren Ju, look what I found!” A tiny girl waddles towards Ren Liufang, holding her palms out. The younger of the two peers curiously into her hand and immediately backs away. 

“It’s a bug!” 

Xiu Lihua grins, “It’s a friend! To keep you company when I can’t or your parents can’t!” 

Ren Liufang takes one look at it and turns away from it. Xiu Lihua pouts and tries to maneuver the insect into her vision again. “Don’t you like it?” 

“I don’t need a bug!” She says quietly. She pats Xiu Lihua’s hand and smiles. 

“I only need Xiu Ying!” 

“Ren Ju, stop it!” Xiu Lihua cries out.

Ren Liufang woman turns towards her with the call of her name, robes torn and bloodied, gaze piercing. Xiu Lihua stiffens as she finally takes in the whole of Ren Liufang’s appearance, from the convulsing ink-colored stain on her skin to the wild eyes. Her lips part and move silently.

“Please don’t—” Ren Liufang digs her nails into her skull, legs wobbling. Xiu Lihua keeps heading towards her, and all that she can do is curl into herself more.

“Ren Ju, don’t move! I’m getting you!” the woman calls. Ren Liufang squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head.

“No, please don’t—I—please don’t—” she gasps. She wraps her arms around herself and starts praying.

“Please don’t call me that name.”

❀ ❀ ❀

“Stay here, I’ll get the antidote, okay? You’re going to be alright,” Shi Jinghui grunts as he pulls the struggling man into a set of ropes. The man shouts unintelligibly at him, flailing in his bonds. Across his stomach and neck, a black mark pulses. 

Shi Jinghui should’ve knew better than to trust any cultivators, who just some ordinary people who were narcissistic and twisted enough in the head to want to play God. He knows how wishy-washy they are, especially the politician type. 

Shi Jinghui scowls. He had never trusted that woman from the very beginning. 

“Give a man a sword and he’ll try to rule the world,” his mother had told him before, when he was young, “But teach a man to heal and he’ll try to save it.” 

Casting one more look of pity at the man, Shi Jinghui closes the door behind him, locking it and exiting the inn in a rush. The mental image of the poison antidote sitting on the shelf of his study flashes through his head as he sprints down the darkly lit streets of Zhoucheng. His surroundings blur around him, eyes fully focused on the cure. 

Suddenly, a scream rips through the air. Shi Jinghui, caught in the moment, keeps running. 

Only to come face to face with his home in flames. 

“A-niang,” Shi Jinghui breathes out. The world spins around him, and he has to hold onto a nearby wall to keep from falling to his knees. Someone screams again, and he snaps out of his, racing towards the doctor’s study with his heart beating loudly in his ears. “A-niang!” 

“A-Hui!” 

He can hear a woman’s voice calling for him, and he whips his head around, desperately searching for the source. A warm body suddenly crashes into his, and Shi Jinghui is engulfed into the arms of a distraught woman. 

“A-Hui,” his mother cries, “I thought—I thought I had lost you—” 

Shi Jinghui hugs his mother closer, breaths coming out far too quick to be normal. Then, something occurs to him and he pulls away, eyes wide. 

“A-niang,” he says slowly, “Where are the patients?” 

His mother averts her eyes. 

Shi Jinghui’s chest caves in. 

“A-niang, the patients!” he repeats, panicked. His mother shakes her head, shoulders trembling. 

“A few of them—the one that requested me specifically—the older man and the young woman and the young man and—” she takes a shuddering breath—“A-Duan. They started acting strangely, and I went to get some medicine from the storage in case they needed it, but when I returned, it was—” 

Shi Jinghui’s blood chills, “Is A-Duan alright? Where are they now? What about our other patients?!” 

“That man is not A-Duan’s father, and he is not the patient. The patient is A-Duan,” his mother murmurs to him one night around the dinner table. Shi Jinghui’s eyebrows knit together as he chews. 

“What?” 

“A-Duan was treated badly by her guardians. She was found recently and brought here, registered under her rescuer’s name,” she says softly. 

“What is she being treated for?” he asks quietly. His mother shakes her head, and Shi Jinghui doesn’t ask again. His fingers tighten around his chopsticks, and he remembers to bring A-Duan extra sweets for the next day. 

His mother opens her mouth but dissolves into a fit of crying. He releases her, eyes grave but resolute. 

“Call the men, we need to save the medicine. I’ll search for the patients.” She doesn’t say anything as he runs off to the left alley of his home, cupping his hands around his lips as he shout. 

“A-Duan! A-Duan!” He coughs, waving away the billowing smoke, “A-Duan! A-Duan! A—”

*********

Shi Jinghui stiffens. He covers his mouth, stepping back in horror. A single sound escapes his lips. 

A-Duan’s little body, covered in an ugly shade of convulsing black, lays mangled on the ground. 

He drops to his knees, face twisting gutturally as he brings the small frame to his chest. Her blood seeps into his shirt, and all Shi Jinghui can do is rock her back and forth and sob.

**********

“I will find who did this to you,” he promises to her, voice shaking, “I will find them and I swear that I will—I will kill them,”

❀ ❀ ❀

“Please don’t call me that name.” 

A long time ago, there was a lonely little girl with no friends. Her parents couldn’t take care of her because they were in bed all day, and the person that was supposed to take care of her was cold. She was weak and couldn’t hold a sword right, much less than look her opponent in the eye before a spar. By all definitions, she was weak. She was so weak that she’d walk home everyday by herself, and she wasn’t even able to cry out of loneliness. She was a truly miserable existence, one that was bound to fade into obscurity soon. 

But then, that little girl met another girl. That girl was fiery and loud, and she wasn’t afraid to fight anyone even though she could only do calligraphy and read books all day. For a strange reason, that girl always stuck next to the coward girl’s side, even when she got beat up and the coward girl would only watch. She was like a star in the darkness, a flame in the freezing cold. The coward girl was transfixed, and all she could think about was that brave girl, how she would smile and how she would dance when it was twilight. How her eyes would curve when she grinned and how her nose would scrunch when she was angry. The coward girl knew her better than she knew herself. 

The coward girl loved her. 

The coward girl loved her. 

 But she was a fool. 

She was such a fool. 

“Ren Ju!” Xiu Lihua reaches the woman and wraps her arms tightly around the shivering frame, shutting her eyes as she feels Ren Liufang’s guttural breaths thin out. Ren Liufang rakes her hands across Xiu Lihua’s chest, sobbing into the blue fabric. Slowly, Xiu Lihua brings her hand up to caress Ren Liufang’s head, awkwardly threading her hair in between her fingers. 

“I—I don’t really know what’s going on, but I want to hear your side of the story, Ren Ju. Okay? Are you okay with that?” Her voice shakes as she attempts to sound soothing. Ren Liufang’s shoulders tense. 

“Don’t want to. Just want to—stay here,” she says hoarsely. Xiu Lihua nods, a little taken aback. 

It is quiet for a few moments. Just the two of them on that burning field, overlooking a burning city. Ren Liufang lets herself fall into the illusion of safety, something that she hasn’t felt in a long time. 

Then, the curse mark erupts again, and she cries out. 

“It was years earlier, back when he was still at large. They worked to get rid of him, all the sects as one against a common enemy.” 

“One day, they found a small house at the outskirts of a tiny village. Inside, there was nothing.” 

“Nothing but a crying child.” 

“And they—” 

“And then he— ”

Ren Liufang screams, neck bent towards the sky. Xiu Lihua jerks in shock, shoulders rising. Ren Liufang releases another earsplitting howl as the black slithers through her veins again except all the way up to her eyes. 

“You extract it like this—”

“It’s the only way—” 

“Just a little more—” 

“Don’t die, Ren Liufang. They’re depending on you.” 

“Don’t die, Ren Liufang. They need you.” 

“Don’t die.” 

“Don’t die.” 

Ren Liufang shoves Xiu Lihua away from her and digs her palms into her ears, eyes squeezed wide. 

“I didn’t want to—I didn’t want to—I didn’t want to!” she screams, splitting the night with her voice. Xiu Lihua backs away, eyes wide. 

“What didn’t you want to do?” she asks, trembling. Slowly, she takes a step forward, extending her arms again, “Ren Ju, you can tell me.” 

“Don’t call me that!” Ren Liufang whispers, shuddering violently, “You don’t deserve to call me that—not you—especially not you!” 

“What do you mean? Tell me, please! We can talk this out at the inn, just like I did earlier, okay? We can talk about it!” Xiu Lihua half pleads, at an utter loss for what to do.” 

“I’ll always be here for you, Ren Ju. Even if you don’t tell me everything, I’ll always be here.” 

“I’m here for you, alright? I’ll never leave your side, that’s a promise!” 

“well then I, Xiu Lihua, promise that Xiu Ying will always watch Ren Ju’s back!”

Ren Liufang’s vision turns red.

“Shut up!” She roars, “If it weren’t for you then maybe—if it weren’t for you—no—” her breaths come out in erratic puffs, “No, why? Why? Why weren’t you there—why did you—” Ren Liufang whips her head around to face Xiu Lihua. She can’t see anything past the film of black covering her eyes, her body completely the color of night as she whirls towards her.  

“If only you had never been born!” 

Ren Liufang picks up her sword from the side, aiming it and leaping towards the woman with all her power. 

Xiu Lihua’s eyes widen in shock. She chokes and steps back, but she knows she left Mengdie far behind her in a naive attempt at placating the monster. 

Ren Liufang looks almost unrecognizable as she hurtles towards her, features twisted in fury and grief, body completely taken by the curse mark. 

“Maybe—Maybe this is for the best,” a voice inside her says. “Maybe I was wrong all along.” 

Xiu Lihua closes her eyes. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Xiu-guniang, get back!” 

Xiu Lihua’s eyes snap open. Out of instinct, she does as she is told, covering her eyes with her arm as a giant explosion tears through the field. 

Cheng Bowen grabs Ren Liufang out of the sky, wrestling her on the ground with his bare arms. His wounds were bleeding profusely, but he still managed to slap her sword from her jerky grip, pressing his elbow on her back. Ren Liufang thrashes, almost invisible with her cursed skin against the muddy ground. 

“I hate you!” she screams, “I hate you I hate you I hate you! You were nothing but a liar all the way through!” 

Xiu Lihua brings her hand to her mouth as she watches her once beloved friend struggle on the ground. She looks away, crying. 

Cheng Bowen grunts as he grapples with the female cultivator on the ground, teeth clenching as she viciously scraps with him. 

“Get down!” he brings his arm up, finally. Xiu Lihua glances at them, unable to tear her eyes away for long. 

Ren Liufang stares at her from the mud, eyes blazing. Tears stream down her dirty cheeks and hit the grass below. 

“Why did you leave? Why would you leave, then?” 

“I trusted you.” 

Xiu Lihua averts her eyes for the last time. Cheng Bowen brings his fist down on Ren Liufang’s nape. 

“Let me go! I have to go to them, this is the last chance that I can save them!” A young girl breathes heavily, leaning all the way against the wall. Her eyes are glazed with something completely foreign, and her legs shake with overexertion. Her face is deadly pale, and her cheeks sunken. Ren Liufang, her best friend, looks so much like a corpse that it scares Xiu Lihua. 

“I can’t let you! You’re about to—you’re going to die, Ren Ju! I can’t allow that!” She shouts back. 

“I can’t allow them to die either! Please, let me through! I’ll be alright, but I need to get to them, please! I need to!” her eyes shone with desperation so raw that it forces Xiu Lihua to turn away. 

“I—I—fine,” she finally relents, frustrated. “But you have to promise to come back, okay?” 

The girl nods, shoulders slumping in relief. Ineffable gratitude replaces the desperation, and she quickly hobbles past Xiu Lihua, steps hurried. 

Xiu Lihua stands there, fists clenched at her sides. She takes a breath. 

Ren Liufang stiffens as something ghosts over her back. She whirls around, and she comes face to face with Xiu Lihua. 

“I’m sorry,” she mouths, bringing her arm up. Ren Liufang’s eyes widen. 

“I trusted you—I trusted you! I—” 

Xiu Lihua smashes the back of Ren Liufang’s neck as hard as she can. Ren Liufang lets out a choked breath, weak body collapsing under the force of Xiu Lihua’s blow. She crumples into her arms, and Xiu Lihua holds her tightly to her chest. 

“I can’t let you die. You’re the only one I have, Ren Ju,” she whispers, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” 

Ren Liufang’s body falls limp in Cheng Bowen’s hold.

Her vision descends into blackness. 

❀ ❀ ❀

The city of Zhoucheng burns. 

The mass murders have started. 

❀ ❀ ❀

Footnotes: 

co-written with sunnyv. links below: 

past chapter: https://theprose.com/post/393493/chapter-five-on-reconsidered-paths-and-hidden-schemes

next chapter: https://theprose.com/post/398685/chapter-seven-on-unwelcome-home-returns

beginning: https://theprose.com/post/383820/chapter-one-on-rogue-cultivators-and-old-blood

-guniang: suffix meaning “miss”

A-: prefix used to address either a child or someone close to you. 

-yisheng: Suffix used to refer to a doctor.

Names: Our four main characters are Xiu Lihua (Xiu Ying given name), Ren Liufang (Ren Ju given name), Cheng Bowen, and Shi Jinghui. People are only addressed by their given names by those who are very close to them. 

Cultivator: people possessing spiritual power that refine their body to the point of possessing magic-like abilities and longevity. 

Sect: an organized group of cultivators that control a certain patch of territory. 

Resentful spirits/energy: malevolent energy from those who have died, reanimated. 

#lianhua

Broken promises, they fill my heart

and if you're wondering when did this start,

they never said yes they never said no

but somehow broken promises filled my soul.

I am a dolphin that's been shut away,

offense might creep if I were to Peep so I stay out of her way.

I am a drunk who's never liquored up

, I'm not a liar but look at my name.

They got what we asked for but they never asked.

The fault isn't theirs but if we compare

There’s subtlety in their ways

they pushed me aside and stomped on my name

Follow the Leader it's all the same

what's easily broken, I never gave

my love would never last if given the chance

but I'd still want it the same

I am a Dolphin that's been shut away

I'm not a liar but look at my name

I wish I was able to fly. I wish I had giant feathery wings growing out of my lower shoulder blades so I could lift myself off the ground and fly. I tried to move my wings and even though they weren’t there, I knew what it would feel like to move them. I can feel the weight of them on my back, and more often times then not... their absense.

I remember how cool the world looks from up there, in the sky. I smile when I see it, and think not to be free as a bird, but to be free as I once was.

Some times, I have the thought that my wings have been removed. Like I had them once before and someone had gone through with the cruelty to take them away.

How else could I know so well how warm they get and how I would hold them up so they could catch a breeze and provide shade? How else do I remember the difficulties of washing them, the joy of grooming them? Why else would my back be used to carrying something more?

Why else would I miss being able to fly If I have never had wings to lift me off the ground?

Eat A Red Apple Day

Worlds Aids Awareness Day

World Trick Shot Day

Bifocals At The Monitor Liberation Day

Day With(out) Art Day

With Covid running rampant, I don’t see that being a good idea to eat an apple, especially a red one. The old rhyme comes to mind, “Eat an apple a day to keep the doctor away.” That’s the last thing I want to do is keep a doctor away if I get sick.

Day With(out) Art Day

The first thing that went running through my head when I saw Day With(out) Art Day, was the commercial line, “A day without orange juice is like a day without sunshine." If we had no art, there would have never been a Van Gough or a Rembrandt. We would have poets or novelists. Actually, what we would have is a very boring life when you think about it. No beauty to admire and nothing to read to stimulate the senses.

Interestingly enough, I found that Visual Aids created this day in 1989 to coincide with Aids Awareness. So let us move inward.

Worlds Aids Awareness Day

This day is noted around the world, by fundraisers and educational programs, and events.

HIV/AIDS is one of the worlds biggest medical crises. It is estimated that approximately 40 million people in the world currently have aids. One million of them, are in the United States. Each year, over 40,000 new cases are reported in the U.S.

On this day, there are a number of things you can do. They include:

Learn more about HIV/AIDs.

Promote education about this disease, and protection against it.

Help people with AIDS.

Donate to the fight to end this disease.

With the continued elevation of Covid, oft times, other major diseases aren’t thought of all that much. Aids, Breast Cancer and Leukemia are three areas I donate to every year. I suspect one day, Covid Relief will be founded for the same purpose.

Please do what you can to support the fight against HIV/AIDS.

World Aids Awareness Day was created in 1988 by the United Nations World Health Organization.

World Trick Shot Day

Nope, this has nothing to do with using a gun or rifle although I have seen weapons used for such a purpose. This is altogether different.

The world-famous Harlem Globetrotters, the originators of the trick shot, bring this celebration to give enthusiasts a chance to showcase their most impressive shots.

Like the Harlem Globetrotters, this day celebrates the trick shot. Every opportunity should be taken to capture your best trick shot. Demonstrate every twist, jump, and flip.

Trick shots are not only entertaining, but they’re also inspiring. Gravity-defying feats of physics take trick shots to the next level. Be sure to share yours!

If you don’t perform trick shots, be sure to support someone who does. Cheer them on and offer to record their amazing attempts and successes. Where will your next trick shot be?

The Globetrotters created World Trick Shot Day to give fans all around the world the court and celebrate with them all the amazing shots they too are capable of developing and performing!

The Harlem Globetrotters made their first shot in 1926 and have been leading innovators in the world of sports and entertainment since. They gained popularity with their on-court antics and amazing abilities on the basketball court. Today, the Harlem Globetrotters hold numerous world records for their feats and continue to push the limits of the game. They recently added a 4-point line, an innovation that is the first of its kind.

The Registrar at National Day Calendar declared World Trick Shot Day in November of 2016.

Check out these two tricks shots. And one of the two I just couldn’t resist.

https://youtu.be/CdsfMfRKVNk

https://youtu.be/eOfr6hU5fic

More strange holidays are coming!

I’ve gotten pretty good at playing by the rules. At bending my branches to fit inside the space that was provided for me to grow into. As twigs snapped off and leaves wilted trying to reach for sunshine my mother patted me on the back saying, “It’s perfect. You’ve got a firm foundation, that’s all I want for you.”

And this was okay, for a long time. Summer caressed me with warmth and Autumn blew new things my way but by Winter I was running on fumes. My box was so tight and my branches held so little foliage that my roots froze solid underneath, warping and cracking, bringing discourse and famine. Come Spring, the rain made mud that seeped into my new cracks, stinging as the stench of decay rose to greet my sweet mother’s nostrils. Worms and pests swarmed the roots she had protected so faithfully. I looked up at her once in exasperation and asked her why she wanted me to sit in this box forever. She responded gently. “I want you to learn to love this box. I want you to want to be there.” So I made art that she’d like and hung it on my walls. I sang songs that were safe and learned to dance again. I learned to adore my box for a while. The place that kept me neat, kept me preserved, the picture of holy and set apart. I learned to trim new leaves before they budded and tuck them in an envelope that sat beneath my bed because they were safest there where no one could see. And she was so happy not to be able to see any cracks on my surface anymore. And she was so pleased at the way I’d decorated my box for her. I was riddled by exhaustion impaired by disease but nothing I produced could let that slip through.

Winter rolled around again and I was working ceaselessly to sand down my edges as they split and splintered. A knock on the door of my box and the smiling face of my mother. Attached to her side was a tree that looked nothing like mine. This tree had roots that spread for miles, a thick intimidating core that then stopped. No branches. No leaves. A stump? I thought. No. This tree had never been sabotaged with the thought to grow. This tree was my end goal all these years. Standing there examining this artless force of nature I was expected to worship, I felt myself wanting to shatter the box by it’s skeleton once and for all. My mother smiled a golden smile and said, “you’re ready, this is for you.” And I thought back to the envelope of dried leaves underneath my bed, I glanced at the pile of twigs that lined the edges of my box, the one’s I’d learned to hate. The box I learned to love.

My mother beamed as she tried to shove this stump-like creature across my tattered roots. And I received him with the hollow arms I had left while he made himself at home. Meeting my mothers eyes I swallowed the lump in my throat and my chest ached that familiar ache. “Thank you so much.” I mustered. And the door was shut.

Dear people who find Black Lives Matter offensive, and cannot think of a better response than All Lives Matter.

Why does an expression that was created to affirm justice and empathy for people who have been discriminated against and or marginalized for centuries threaten your existence? When you disagree with the premise of Black Lives Matter, I wonder if your family tree includes people who were captured, kidnapped, enslaved, beaten, raped and even murdered with no protection under the law?

Oh, that all happened such a long time ago, you say. Get over it. Opportunity and equality exists in our country for every citizen. Does it? Oh right. Statistics. Facts. They don't matter. I'm not saying as a country we have not made great progress with racial equity, but if you ask me, we still have a bit more work to do. Hence why the words Black Lives Matter mean something to me. Period.

P.S. If you care to counter argue with me, I will not respond. I don't see the need to debate this topic. As I said. Black Lives Matter. Period. Got it?

The satires of Twain, however, do not even compare to the criticisms of those of Kate Chopin. Both of these authors had a fair amount to say about their time, to say the least, but if Twain and Chopin were to face each other…I think Twain gets it between the eyes. My experience with Chopin is one of intrigue and comprehension. However, what is most incredible to me is that Chopin, among countless other progressive authors of the time, managed to stand out. Was it simply by luck that she managed to do so, or was her writing really that good? I would like to believe that her writing was really that good, in fact.

“The Story of an Hour” was my first encounter with Chopin. (Admittedly, the first time I read it, I believed that the protagonist really had, in fact, died of joy from seeing her husband. A closer look, however, and I perceived the real interpretation). Chopin is unlike Sinclair very much; although both were progressive writers from around the same time period, Chopin is very sparing of visual imagery in her writing (whereas Sinclair went quite over the top with it).

Then there is “The Awakening.” As I understand it, it was Chopin’s intention that the reader know the ending of the book from its very first pages (it is quite difficult to avoid interpreting the implications and foreshadowing in the earlier pages of the text). For anyone who has not read “The Awakening,” however, and as of yet wishes to read it, do be warned, for I am about to address the ending.

I do not think that there are many books that I have delved deeper into than “The Awakening.” I spent much of the time I was reading it trying to decode the hidden meanings and less-discernible connections encrypted throughout the text. Of course, as was the custom with progressive works of literature around the Victorian Era, the main character does indeed die, by suicide, at the ending. And, as I stated, this was by no means a change in the style of literature at the time (conduct a quick internet search of “female suicides in Victorian literature,” and you will see what I mean).

So, I do not concede that Chopin’s work was very original for its time. However, it is because of that, that I believe that she was a very talented writer, for how else could she have stood out in her time when so many other writers sought to conform to the same styles as she? Chopin was not the inventor of a new form of literature, no, but something far better: the most distinguished and profound wielder of the writing styles of her time. Anyone can invent a style, but few can master them. Chopin managed to master it.

I heard the shot and saw the flash,

A bright light before my eyes...

i heard my scream, i heard her gasp

You have to belive i'm not lying!

i walked away with nothing to say

no weapon in my hands,

but guilty still, i ran way

but this was not the plan.

you must believe i never saw

the killer or what he'd done.

I only heard the body fall

cus the first thing i did was run.

where the body lies I do not know,

cus the body I have never seen;

but if you dig down way below,

you might find it by a tree.

it's just a guess because like i said,

I wasnt the one who hurt her.

she's buried alive but soon will be dead,

im assuming, cus im not a murderer.

I think your taking this a bit far,

being right doesn't mean a thing.

I basically deserve a gold star,

but that doesnt mean it was me!

being accused i dont know how to act

I dont remember doing any of these things

but still its hard to ignore the fact

that I knew she was under the tree

(For full effect, read this while listening to "Moonlight Sonata")

TO ALIEN LIFE FORMS: Greetings, from the Human Race! If you are intelligent enough to read this, then you have intercepted an exploratory space probe that contains information about our species. This is but a short document detailing all life on Earth as far as we know as of my writing this (as of the year 3000).

HUMAN #: 19,373,295,573 (presumably)

SCIENTIST: (CLASSIFIED)

PROGRAM: (NASA)

TIMELINE:

Pre-life:…

???-15: (UNKNOWN, but we are working on it as I write this).

14 billion years ago: big bang, universe forms.

12 billion years ago: Local Group galaxy cluster forms as galaxies drift apart; Milky Way Galaxy forms.

10 billion years ago: Virgo forms, containing the Milky Way and other galaxies within the Local Group.

4.6 billion years ago: the “sun” forms, our home planet, Earth, forms in orbit around it, and our solar system forms.

Precambrian Time begins

4 billion years ago: Earth cools, and liquid rain beings to become commonplace.

3.80 billion years ago: primordial soup forms.

3.77 billion years ago: first replicating molecules form, possibly primitive DNA.

Post-creation of life:…

3.70 billion years ago: unicellular life evolves, primitive bacteria and prokaryotic life forms begin to release oxygen into the atmosphere.

Proterozoic Era begins

2.4 billion years ago: Oxygen Revolution begins; oxygen mixes with the UV rays of the sun, forming the ozone layer; Earth has a primitive atmosphere, and complex life is almost ready to form.

Luna supercontinent forms and breaks apart

Rodinia supercontinent forms

Proterozoic Era ends

Precambrian Time ends

Phanerozoic EON begins

Paleozoic Era begins

Permian Period begins

286 million years ago: life evolves from basic cellular organisms into more-complex eukaryotes; reptiles evolve; trilobites evolve and then disappear; ocean life booms.

245 million years ago: largest mass extinction - permian mass extinction; fungus has not yet evolved to break down wood, so trees are buried after they die and are not decomposed. Volcanoes in present-day Russia incinerate wood, creating massive plumes of carbon that ruin the atmosphere; 90% of ocean life dies; 70% of terrestrial life dies; paves way for reptiles to dominate planet.

Rodinia supercontinent begins to break up

Pangea supercontinent forms

Permian Period ends

Paleozoic Era ends

Mesozoic Era begins

Triassic Period begins

Pangea supercontinent begins to break up

245 million years ago: major extinction of ocean life; many corals and conodonts are wiped out; dinosaurs and small mammals appear and begin to dominate planet.

Triassic Period ends

Jurassic Period begins

208 million years ago: dinosaurs are of the most wide-spread specimen on the planet; birds, frogs, crabs, and salamanders also evolve.

Jurassic Period ends

Cretaceous Period begins

146 million years ago: small mammals begin to become more common.

66 million years ago: asteroid slams into Earth at the deadliest angle possible; parts of Earth are incinerated, and the rest is swallowed in plumes of smoke; dinosaurs become extinct within one million years; global cooling ensues; 99.96% of all life on Earth was decimated.

Cretaceous Period ends

Mesozoic Era ends

Cenozoic Era begins

Tertiary Period begins

Paleocene Epoch begins

64 million years ago: flowering plants become commonplace; small mammals flourish.

Paleocene Epoch ends

Eocene Epoch begins

37 million years ago: grass appears, modern trees appear, modern animals - cats, dogs, horses, camels, rodents - appear.

Eocene Epoch ends

Oligocene Epoch begins

23 million years ago: most modern birds and mammals have appeared.

Oligocene Epoch ends

Miocene Epoch begins

5 million years ago: grazing horses and antelopes appear.

Miocene Epoch ends

Pliocene Epoch begins

1.8 million years ago: hominids (primitive, human-like apes) evolve.

Pliocene Epoch ends

Tertiary Period ends

Quaternary Period begins

Pleistocene Epoch begins

800,000 years ago: humans discover fire; music begins to make its debut.

200,000 years ago: first traces of religion are witnessed.

Stone Age begins and ends

11,000 years ago: specimen of modern genius homo appear.

Pleistocene Epoch ends

Holocene Epoch begins

11,000 years ago: modern humans radiate.

5,220 years ago: writing is invented.

Bronze Age begins

2,700 BCE: first record of human-on-human warfare.

Bronze Age ends

Iron Age begins

1,200 BCE: modern cities and empires begin to form; modern economic systems are created.

Iron Age Ends

624 BCE: Buddha is born.

c. 4 BCE: Jesus is born.

570 CE: Muhammad is born.

800 CE: gunpowder is invented.

1740 CE: electricity is successfully harnessed for the first time.

1822 CE: first primitive “computer” invented.

1859 CE: theory of evolution proposed.

1942 CE: first human-made object is sent into outer space.

1945 CE: first nuclear-reactive bomb is detonated.

1954 CE: secrets of DNA replication mostly unraveled.

1957 CE: first satellite (Sputnik) sent into outer space; first life form (a dog) also sent into space.

1961 CE: first human enters the cosmos.

1969 CE: first human lands on an orbiting body within the cosmos.

2009 CE: the first space station is completed.

2030 CE: first colony on Earth’s moon is established.

2068 CE: first colony on Mars is established.

2247 CE: first time humans venture to Neptune.

2518 CE: first space station established along the inner banks of Oort Cloud.

2732 CE: hyperspace equations are perfected.

2900 CE: humans travel to Alpha Centauri, the nearest solar system to our own.

3000 CE: humans make first contact with primitive alien life forms (a sort of small, harmless bacterium).

Holocene Epoch ends

Quaternary Period ends

Cenozoic Era ends

Phanerozoic EON ends

THE NEW AGE begins

#sciencefiction