paranoianovel Chapter 83 Inhuman
Chapter 83 Inhuman
The night was like a thick black cloth, pressing heavily on the simple shack.
The shack was hastily built with withered branches and rotten thatch, leaking air from all sides, with sparse thatch on the roof, through which one could see the stars in the sky.
A small figure huddled in the shack. She had no name, and her mother only called her "Yi".
I don't know if this counts as a name.
It was still very young, its body as thin as a stick, and it was not wearing any clothes. Its skin was dark brown, covered with dust and grass clippings, so dirty that its appearance was not visible. Only its eyes shone like stars in the darkness.
She always felt hungry, her stomach empty from morning till night, like a bottomless pit, the burning hunger tormenting her constantly.
She was the most humble little Dalit, born with the sins others spoke of, as insignificant as dust.
I don't understand what sin is, nor do I want to understand.
All she remembers is where to dig for grass roots when she's hungry, where the tree bark is a little softer to chew, and which puddle has water that doesn't taste so fishy and smelly and is barely edible.
Every day before dawn, she would go with her mother to the wasteland to dig up grass roots and peel tree bark. It was common for her fingertips to be worn raw and her nails to crack. She dared not cry even when it hurt, because no one would care if she did.
Even after desperately digging up grass roots and gnawing on tree bark, my stomach was still growling with hunger, and I could never feel full.
Every night she would wake up hungry. Opening her eyes, she would look at the sparse stars in the sky through the leaky thatched roof of the shack, and her mind would involuntarily recall the piece of bread that the supreme lord had given her long ago.
The flatbread was made from coarse wheat flour, dry and hard, even a bit tough, but in Yi's heart, it was the most delicious thing in the world.
She still remembers the taste of the bread, with its subtle wheat aroma. As she chewed it, the warmth slid down her throat into her empty stomach, and that feeling of comforting satisfaction was something she would never forget.
So fragrant!
She would often find her mouth moving involuntarily as she thought about it, her mouth throbbing with craving. She couldn't resist leaning over and biting her mother's withered chest, waking her from her deep sleep.
Every time my mother woke me up, I would get a gentle scolding, her tone full of helplessness but without any real anger.
But these memories only came about after I came to this village.
Before, she seemed to have never known what hunger was. She could endure three days without eating without feeling uncomfortable. She was never like this now, feeling anxious and unable to sleep because of hunger.
I endured my hunger, curled up, and looked at my sleeping mother beside me.
My mother's chest was already dry and shriveled, with no milk or warmth at all.
She wanted to snuggle closer to her mother and get warm, but she was afraid of waking her, so she could only quietly hold back.
She often secretly thought at night how wonderful it would be if she had a name.
Her mother always told her that names have power.
Having a name means you're no longer rootless dust, you can eat your fill, and you don't have to go hungry every day anymore.
But not everyone can have a name; only the supreme gods and lords are qualified to bestow names.
Therefore, we must be patient, work diligently, and obey orders. We must not anger the adults, and one day, we will receive our own name.
She firmly remembered her mother's words. She was the most obedient child. She never ran away, never cried, and did whatever she was asked to do. She was never lazy.
She longed for a name, for not being called "One" anymore, and for not going hungry every day.
Before coming to this village, Yi's life was even more miserable.
She followed her mother, moving from one dilapidated village to another, each place filled with hardship. At that time, she also had no clothes to wear, and every day she was naked, crawling and rolling in the dust.
The most terrifying thing was hunger. When hunger reached its extreme, grass roots and tree bark became luxuries. They had to compete with other Dalit children to dig them up and eat them. They even had to fight over the murky, smelly sewage in the puddles. If they were a step behind, they would be left thirsty.
To earn a living, my mother had to clean the village chief's toilet and collect his excrement, doing the dirtiest, most tiring, and most despised work.
Every time, the mother hoped that the village chief would give her a piece of leftover food, even if it was just spoiled vegetable soup or leftover bones, it would be enough to keep the mother and daughter alive for a few days.
Whenever Mom returned with a little food, a rare smile of pride would appear on her face. That smile made me feel that all the hardships were nothing, and my heart was filled with joy.
In those villages, besides hunger and filth, there was also danger that could strike at any moment.
The lives of Dalits were worthless, like weeds. The village's upper class, and even some ordinary Shudras, would wantonly torture and kill Dalits if they were slightly displeased, without reason or scruples. Their lives were so lowly that they were worthless.
From a young age, I learned to hide, trying my best not to appear in front of people. If I saw a figure in the distance, I would quickly dart into the bushes or hide in a tree hole, for fear that I might lose my life if I was not careful.
It wasn't that she was scared, but her mother told her to hide, so she hid.
In fact, in Yi's heart, death was no longer a terrifying thing.
Having witnessed so many people around her suddenly disappear or die silently, she even felt a pang of envy from time to time.
Her mother taught her an old folk song. The song said that those who died were freed from their sins and could finally be reincarnated. In their next life, they would become high-ranking lords, with endless hard bread and clean water every day. They would not go hungry or suffer and would live a good life.
As night deepened, the stars in the sky blinked their gentle eyes, and the people in the shack slept soundly, their breathing rising and falling.
Little Yi lay on the cold ground, listening to the sounds around her, slowly closed her eyes, and drifted off to sleep.
In her dream, she ate lots and lots of bread, never had to go hungry again, and even got a nice name.
I don't know how long I slept, but a loud noise suddenly woke me up.
Footsteps, shouts, and the clanging of objects came from outside, creating a chaotic scene that broke the tranquility of the early morning.
She rubbed her sleepy eyes, got up from the ground, and her small body emerged from the shack.
The area outside was already crowded with people, all the Dalits gathered together, their eyes fixed on the front.
At the front of the crowd stood a man of astonishing height, easily four or five feet tall, with a robust build. He wore simple cloth clothes, and although his expression was not as dignified as the other gentlemen, he still had a smile on his face.
But it's also kind of scary!
Behind him followed twelve Dalits, who looked different from him.
I overheard the people around me talking and learned that this tall man was the manager of the Dalits, appointed by the lords, and all the Dalits had to listen to him.
In Yi's mind, the person who can directly interact with the esteemed master without having to avoid him for fear of stepping on his shadow must be someone who has been bestowed a name.
He's practically a gentleman now!
She looked up at the tall butler with envy in her eyes, thinking to herself, "If only I could have a name too!"
My mom and I won't have to go hungry anymore!
Not daring to push to the front, she quickly searched for her mother in the crowd. Soon, she saw a familiar figure, ran over immediately, and hugged her mother's leg tightly, pressing her small body against her, afraid of being separated from her mother by the crowd.
The tall butler stood at the front of the crowd, speaking loudly with an undeniable air of authority.
He spoke while gesturing wildly, his expression serious.
Although Yi didn't understand what he was saying, he could feel the tense atmosphere around him and his mother's arms suddenly tightening around him.
Her mother held her tightly, her body slightly tense, and she knew immediately that it was definitely not a good thing.
Sure enough, the butler gave the order with a crisp and decisive tone.
They're moving again!
The Dalits around him had no expression on their faces. They numbly picked up their few remaining tattered belongings—a few scraps of cloth and a broken bowl—that was all their wealth.
Some people dismantled the small shacks they had painstakingly built, leaving withered branches scattered all over the ground. There was no reluctance, no sadness, only numb obedience.
Looking at all this, I felt no sadness whatsoever.
She had long been accustomed to this kind of life, homeless and wandering from place to place. It was all the same wherever she went—suffering and hunger. She had long since become numb to it.
She followed her mother and quietly packed her things. Actually, there wasn't much to pack. She only picked up two things: a flower wreath she had made from grass and a little horse she had made from twigs and straw rope.
This little grass horse is her most precious treasure.
She kept thinking that if she ever saw the lord who had given her the bread again, she would give him the pony.
Therefore, she had to take it with her wherever she went, and she could never lose it.
After getting ready, the Dalits split into groups, were scolded, lined up, and prepared to set off.
The tall butler pointed them to a new manager—a tall, imposing lady with a robust build and a somewhat fierce expression.
I recognized her immediately; we used to live in the same village. This lady is very powerful; she dares to fight with other Dalits!
The lady of the house looked at the Dalit group before her and announced loudly, "You haven't been sold; you're being taken to a new place to complete the mission your master has assigned you!"
She was just a little Dali who drifted with the tide, whose fate was never in her own hands. She could only follow the crowd, and it didn't matter where she went.
But she remembered the mistress's words—to complete her master's task.
My mother said that if you are obedient, do your work, and complete your tasks, you might get a name.
She raised her head slightly, gazing into the distance, her dark eyes filled with anticipation.
She hoped that this time, she could work hard and earn a name that belonged to her.
From now on, we'll never have to go hungry again!
Shu Hu stood in front of the Dalit settlement, his tall figure casting a long shadow in the morning light.
He stood ramrod straight, his dark face serene, but deep in his eyes lay a turbulent emotion unseen by others.
He still remembered his name, the name etched in his bones and blood, the name that carried the glory of his tribe.
He was once the successor to the chieftainship of a western forest tribe. His name was taken from an ancient myth passed down through the tribe for thousands of years, meaning "leader of the forest, bloodline successor," and was a symbol on which the tribe placed high hopes.
From birth, he was burdened with heavy expectations, as his people hoped that he would one day lead the tribe and continue its glorious legacy for a thousand years.
Back then, he was a proud young man in the dense forest, a future leader!
He still vividly remembers his childhood.
The tribe dwells in the boundless ancient forests of the west. The forest is vast and the ancient trees reach for the sky. The tribe members can resonate with the trees, sense the scent of the grass and trees, and draw on the power of the forest. They are the natural masters of the forest.
At its peak, the tribe had over a thousand soldiers, each a brave and skilled warrior proficient in forest warfare. Some of these warriors were highly skilled and powerful, able to draw upon the spiritual energy of heaven and earth to transform into colossal tree gods, their bodies as majestic as ancient trees. Their movements caused the earth to tremble and mountains to shake, easily splitting rocks and breaking trees, and leveling hills. They were so powerful that no one dared to provoke them.
The tribe at that time was powerful and stable. Its people worked at sunrise and rested at sunset, multiplied and thrived in the dense forest, the totem temple was constantly filled with incense, and ancient myths were passed down from generation to generation. Everything was permeated with peace and glory.
But fate took an unexpected turn. He would never forget that day when an overwhelming enemy broke through the dense forest defenses, arrows rained down, swords gleamed coldly, and shouts of battle echoed through the forest.
The tribal warriors fought back fiercely, and the powerful beings who had transformed into tree gods fought back with all their might, but the number of enemies was endless, surging in like a tide, and in the end they were outnumbered.
The ancestral land was breached, the totem temple was burned down, the ancient totems that protected the tribe were trampled and crushed, the statues collapsed, and the flames engulfed the entire temple, burning away the tribe's glory.
The tribesmen were brutally slaughtered, their blood staining the forest floor red. The once powerful tribe fell apart overnight.
As a child, he was captured in the war. The former heir to the clan chief and the pride of the forest was reduced to the lowest Dalit slave. Forget revenge, even living became a luxury.
The days of being enslaved were filled with endless darkness and torment.
He tried to rebel, relying on his inherent pride and unwillingness to accept defeat, attempting time and again to break free from his shackles and escape his misery, but what he received in return was even more cruel beatings and more severe confinement.
The cold leather whip fell on his body again and again, leaving crisscrossing wounds. Old wounds had not healed before new ones appeared. Day after day of hard labor, hunger that left him with nothing to eat, and endless humiliation gradually ravaged his body, smoothed out his rough edges, and destroyed his mind.
The once proud hope of the tribe, under endless torment, could only lower its proud head, shed all pride and sharpness, and silently endure everything.
His youthful ambitions gradually faded and disappeared amidst repeated hunger and torment, eventually being crushed by reality, leaving only the most humble and simple thought: to survive.
Even if one suffers endless humiliation, even if one has to live a life of ignominy, as long as one is alive, there is still a sliver of hope.
So he learned to endure, to become numb, to bow his head in humiliation, to get used to being a slave, to being ordered around and beaten at will. His former glory was completely buried in the dust, and he dared not even mention his name again, treating himself as a nameless, lowly slave.
This numbness and forbearance allowed him to endure year after year, being sold and resold multiple times from one city-state to another, suffering endless hardships, until he was finally sold to Mittal Village.
When he first arrived here, he was still wary and numb, thinking that it was just another place to suffer, and never dared to hope for any change.
Vijay's appearance completely overturned his understanding.
The young owner seemed to see through his deeply buried past and resentment.
Vijay gave him the respect he had longed for, calling him by his name "Treebeard," without erasing his last shred of dignity. He also appointed him as the Dalit steward, entrusting him with the authority to manage thousands of Dalits, giving him real power and making him no longer a tool to be driven by others.
All of this was a blessing that Shu Hu had never dared to hope for.
He once thought that he would spend his life in humiliation and numbness, never finding any hope again, and daring not to even think about the faint wish of reviving the tribe.
Vijay's trust and reliance on him was like a ray of light, piercing through the darkness of his many years and rekindling a faint but firm flame in his dormant heart.
He might truly rise again, no longer a lowly slave, but a powerful administrator; perhaps he could truly wait for the opportunity to accumulate strength, seek out the old tribes, and find the possibility of reviving the tribe.
All of this is predicated on the complete and thorough implementation of Vijay's every order, the proper management and scheduling of Dalit, upholding this trust, and seizing this opportunity.
In the morning light, the tall, straight tree trunk stood tall, its dark face no longer showing the numbness of the past, and its eyes blazed with an unprecedented determination and drive.
He clenched his rough hands and secretly vowed in his heart: He would live up to his master's trust, do his best to complete all tasks, hold onto hope, wait for the right opportunity, and rekindle the glory of the tribe.