Molting the Mortal Coil

There was a gun barrel against his head. Sage was thrust into what he could only describe as his worst nightmare. A cold sweat formed on his back as he blinked his eyes, staring up into the darkness of his bedroom. His eyes crossed as he tried to stare at the object pressed between his eyes. As hard as he tried, nothing came forth from his lips, and the look of utter terror was pasted on his face.

“Sorry kid. You saw something you weren’t supposed to see.”

That voice seemed to come from the darkness itself before he heard a loud bang and everything went white.

Is this a dream? Have I died?

There was only silence.

What’s going on? Where am I? How long have I been here?

It felt like an eternity had passed before a soft voice rippled through the silence. It seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at the same time.

“There’s a karmic bond between us. In order to sever it, I give you this second chance now.”

What? What the hell is that supposed to mean? Who are you? Why can’t I see and why does it feel like you’re talking in my head?

Sage’s questions weren’t answered. The whiteness simply dimmed, everything gradually went dark. A dim flicker of hope was the only thing left in Sage’s mind, wanting to believe that disembodied voice.

As luck had it, he was right. Sage suddenly sat up. The sheet and blankets on the bed seeming like a terrible restraint that he fought to break free of. Blinking his eyes, he realized he was alive. His senses had returned. Such sudden contrast had him testing his eyes, clapping his hands, sniffing the air, rubbing the blankets, even picking up the sheet and giving it a lick. It was only then that Sage finally believed he was alive again and that whole thing had been a terrible nightmare.

That was until he actually took a look at his surroundings. It was no longer his bedroom.

Where’d my TV go? Where did this asian wardrobe come from? Why does the room and bed feel so big?

A few minutes later, Sage realized he was somewhere else. Holding up his hand, he stared down in amazement. It was the hand of a child. He let out a prepubescent shriek, his voice echoing in the sparsely decorated wood floored room. Reaching his hands up he tried to feel his face and other features, finding them different than what he remembered. Stranger still, there was a cloth of some sort wrapped around his head. Fortunately, before his terror rose even further, the door to the room swung open.

“Sheng’er! You’re awake! How are you feeling?”

An older looking gentleman walked in, looking like a giant to the child sized Sage. He had to turn his head upwards to meet the gaze of the man. Confusion shining in his eyes as he realized that the language the man spoke wasn’t english. What confused him even more was that he understood him perfectly.

What language is he speaking and how can I understand it?

“Where am I?”

Sage had no idea if he’d be understood but when he started speaking the words came out in the same language as the one the man used. This development caused another wave of confusion to cross his face before the stranger came to his bedside and reached out to touch his forehead.

“Good, your fever has gone down.”

Seeing the still confused look on the boy’s face the man continued, “You’re in your room, Sheng’er. You’ve been unconscious for days now. We almost thought we lost you. Who told you it was alright to delve into the old mine?”

Sage had far too many thoughts running through his head at this point to create a response. The older man saw the look of contemplation on his face and thought he was remembering the events of that day. The boy had been out for near a week now and at one point they thought he was never going to wake up. Smiling to the boy, he stood and walked back over to the door.

“I’ll bring you some nice congee to help you recover.”

The door closed again after the man left, Sage still seeming confused as he started examining his body again. Noticing a small hand-held mirror sitting on the desk across the room he pulled himself out of the bed. It was then he realized how sore his body was. It was like every muscle in his body had been given a battering. He was covered in bruises. Shuffling over to the desk he picked up the mirror and examined his face.

Since when does a middle-aged white guy go to sleep and then wake up as an asian child? What kind of elaborate joke is this? Did somebody drug me?

The door opened again and the older man came in with a food tray. Setting it down on the desk beside him, he pointed at the bowl of white soup.

“Here’s your congee, Sheng’er. Eat up so you can get your strength back.”

Sage’s confusion had turned into numbness. Simply choosing to accept things as they were and figure out what the situation was.

“Who are you? Who am I? I can’t remember anything.”

Since this was a dream, he might as well play along and enjoy it. Treating it like a video game, the first step is to learn about the setting and then figure out your status.

“Sheng’er… you. You really don’t remember anything?”

After more questioning the man finally nodded with sad acceptance on his face as he started to explain. Sage decided that being a sudden amnesiac was much better than telling people he was in someone else’s body. The old man introduced himself as Uncle Zhang, the brother of Sheng’s deceased father. The body he was in now was named Lang Sheng. Lang, the Mantis Clan and Sheng which, conveniently, meant sage. He was eight years old this year and his parents were both deceased. Sheng’s mother had died in childbirth, while his father had died a few years ago serving the clan. It seems he was now an orphan, raised among the common children of the clan and looked after by his only remaining close kin, Uncle Zhang.

“Okay, that’s enough for now. You’ll probably remember everything soon enough, eat your congee and go back to bed. You got real banged up in those mines and I’m sure you’ll feel better with more rest!”

Sage was still amazed at this whole situation so he didn’t have any more real questions, wanting to figure out how to wake up from this silly dream as soon as possible. With these thoughts in mind, his face was twisted uncomfortably and Uncle Zhang misinterpreted his feelings.

“I know you went down there because you heard legends of treasures, but you have to be more careful! A treasure can’t make up for real strength. Once you’re better again it’s time you start cultivating.”

Cultivating? What is that? Do I have to grow something?