The Legend of Fist God

The roar of the waterfall drowned the mountain range. No one came here expecting to be heard.

Mist clung to the air like ghostly smoke, drifting across the stones and bones at the riverbank. Near the edge of the torrent, a long black-haired boy stood barefoot on cold rock, his feet planted wide, his shoulders steady.

His fist struck the boulder.

Thud.

The stone barely trembled. His knuckles were split, skin raw and swollen from repeated practice.

He breathed out slowly and struck again.

Thud.

This boulder had been here longer than he had. He knew every crack on its surface. For many months, he had returned to it every other day, even when his hands bled, even when his clan members laughed at him openly.

A shadow passed over the ground.

“Mm?” The boy paused and looked up.

High above the waterfall, something vast drifted across the sky. It looked like a wandering cloud at first sight. Then wings beat once, scattering the mist.

It was actually a gargantuan swan gliding through invisible air currents as if the sky obeyed it.

The boy’s eyes narrowed briefly. “Outsiders…”

He then lowered his gaze back to the boulder and continued his routine.

A pristine group of young girls jumped from atop the enormous swan.

As they descended, their laughter tried and failed to rise above the voice of the waterfall.

They all wanted to have fun by the white water, but while diving down through the air, one of them saw the teenage boy.

“Is he… punching a boulder?”

The others followed her gaze.

“With his bare hands?”

A ripple of amused disbelief passed among them.

The girls gracefully landed on the tops of conifers.

“Who trains like that?”

“There’s a clan nearby that does,” one girl said after a moment. “The Fist clan. They’re… still around, apparently.”

“That ancient clan I’ve seen on old maps?” another scoffed. “I thought they vanished from history.”

“They might as well have,” someone added. “Weapons surpassed them ages ago.”

Their voices carried faintly through the mist. The boy heard them as vague whispers, but he did not turn.

His fist struck the boulder again.

 “He’s ruining the place,” a girl opined. “Who’s going to send him away?”

One of the girls, blue-haired and sharp-eyed, leapt down from the tree, landing several paces behind him. “Hey.”

He did not respond.

Her gaze hardened. Without another word, she drew her sword and thrust.

The boy reacted on instinct. He twisted aside, the blade passing so close he felt cold air slice his cheek.

The sword struck the boulder. A ripple of energy spread outward, and the stone exploded into fragments.

The boy stumbled backward and fell, staring at the shattered remains in disbelief. Blood dripped from the thin cut on his cheek.

Laughter rang out from above.

“So weak.”

“That face is wasted on him.”

The blue-haired girl sheathed her sword, unimpressed. “Is that all you have? Nothing more than an aesthetic face…”

The boy clenched his jaw. For a moment, the waterfall seemed quieter than the words echoing in his head, words he had heard all his life.

Useless as a corpse. Pathetic as a pauper. A disgrace born to ruin his family name.

“I will get strong,” he said, the words leaving without strain, “strong enough that these fists will never be laughed at.”

The blue-haired girl raised an eyebrow. “By punching softened rocks? Even without these rushing rapids nearby, I don’t think anyone except deaf people can hear your punches.”

“Pfft! Bahahaha!” The other girls burst out laughing.

The blue-haired girl tossed a silver coin at the boy’s feet. “Take it and leave. We’re using this place.”

The boy stared at the coin. Then he stood, picked it up, and placed it back into her hand.

“I don’t need it,” he said. “I’ll go.”

He turned away without another word.

The blue-haired girl watched him leave, a faint crease forming between her brows. “Refusing a coin despite being a mountain boy? Strange,” she muttered. “This is the first time someone refused to take the money I offered.”

“Don’t think about it,” one of the others said as they leapt down. “Let’s swim.”

The girls plunged into the river, their bodies cutting through the torrent as they pushed upward against the waterfall itself, climbing the rushing water like fish.

The boy stopped.

He turned slowly, eyes widening. “T-They’re swimming up the falls…”

He had never seen anyone do what he had seen fish do.

The blue-haired girl was doing markedly better than the others.

“What sect are they from?”

He thought about it, but he didn’t recognize their uniforms.

“What sect raises people this reckless? If they slipped, the current would drag them through seven mountains of beasts. Even the elders of my clan wouldn’t dare challenge those falls. If I didn’t know the safe route… Mm?”

Just then, his gaze drifted toward the top of the waterfall.

Something felt wrong.

A memory surfaced. An old story told to frighten children.

Then he saw it, a massive silhouette, at the crest of the waterfall, moving.

It lunged from the mist and clamped its jaws around the mighty swan, crushing bone and feathers alike. Blood sprayed, evanescing into the torrent as the beast devoured its prey.

The boy’s eyes grew into saucers. His breath caught for longer than a second as his eyes caught a glimpse of the giant crocodile before it slipped back into the mist.

The boy rushed toward the waterfall and bellowed a warning, trying to alert the girls of the imminent danger, but his voice made no difference against the unremitting roar of the falls.

“Watch out! There’s a beast above you!” He shouted, but his yell got buried beneath the roar of the falls.

The girls, who were shooting up the waterfall, sensed that something was wrong, but they noticed it too late.

The beast opened its jaws, covering a tenth of the width of the waterfall.

The girls vanished.

The boy stood frozen, unable to digest what he had just witnessed. All those powerful ladies were swallowed in one go.

The crocodile plunged downward, its body smashing into the river like a falling mountain. Waves burst over the banks as it surged forward.

The crocodile soon surfaced, then its eyes locked onto the boy.

Cold terror seized his limbs. It was coming for him.

He tried to clench his fists, but his fingers trembled frenziedly.

The ground shook as the great beast climbed onto land, its tail sweeping aside rocks and plant life, its massive body sliding forward with relentless hunger.

The boy turned and bolted, knowing that one slight mistake, there would be no second mistake.

The waterfall roared behind him, and the mountains watched in silence as the crocodile waved its tail for added momentum and glided on its belly, the distance between them burning away.