Hangzhou, China – 2007Age: 11
The sky over Hangzhou's slums was a dull gray, thick with factory smoke and forgotten dreams. The scent of iron, mildew, and cold rice clung to the air. This was a city of two faces — one gilded with neon and prestige, the other cracked and left to rot.
Li Cu sat against a rusted pipe behind an abandoned warehouse in the Xiaoyun Industrial Quarter, his small hands cupping a bowl of lukewarm instant noodles a kind shopkeeper had tossed his way.
It had been one week since his 11th birthday.
One week since his father — Li Yimming, the honorable businessman, model citizen, hypocrite — threw him out like trash.
"You're a stain on my life. Your mother ruined everything. Now you're her ghost, haunting me. Get out."
He hadn't cried. Not then. Not when the door slammed. Not even when the cold night crept into his bones.
But he felt something inside him dying. And something else beginning to wake.
That morning, the rich kids, children of second-generation CEOs and Party elites, had found him sleeping in a shipping crate.
"Look! The bastard's still alive!""Let's see how tough he is without his whore of a mom to protect him.""Filthy stray. Go beg somewhere else."
They kicked him. Spat on him. Laughed.
Until someone shouted:
"Back off!"
Two silhouettes stepped in front of him. One was tall, scrappy, with a chipped tooth and a rusted metal bat: Yang Hao. The other, calm but sharp-eyed, held a worn schoolbag like a shield: Su Wan.
The bullies backed off — not out of fear, but boredom. They didn't expect resistance.
When they left, Yang Hao grinned.
"You got lightning in those hands, I heard. That true?"Li Cu looked down. "I… don't know what it was.""Cool," Su Wan said quietly. "Doesn't matter. You're one of us now."
That night, Li Cu sat under a flickering streetlamp, separated from sleep by the ache in his ribs and the hollow in his stomach. Yang Hao and Su Wan were asleep nearby, their belongings in old duffel bags.
The wind howled through the broken alleys.
And then — he appeared.
Not in flesh. Not in shadow.But in the Force.
A towering figure formed from the air itself — armored in ancient durasteel and blood-colored robes, a mask hiding a war-scarred face, radiating a power both serene and terrifying.
Li Cu scrambled up, ready to run.
"Do not fear me, child," the voice echoed inside his mind and soul."Fear the world that seeks to break you. I am not your enemy. I am your future."
The boy stared, trembling. "W-who are you?"
The figure stepped forward. Ghostlike. Regal.
"I am Darth Marr.Warrior of the Old Sith Empire.Destroyer of the Eternal Throne.Betrayed by allies. Killed by prophecy.And I have waited… for you."
Li Cu's breath caught. "Why me?"
Marr knelt, meeting him at eye level. Though he had no face, Li felt his gaze like fire.
"Because you are pain made flesh.You are the son of rejection, the child of lies.But in your suffering, there is strength. In your anger — freedom."
"The Force calls to you. Not the light. Not the Jedi.But the truth beneath both: power.I offer you guidance. A path. A new empire, born not of bloodlines… but of will."
Li Cu didn't understand everything. But he felt something click — as if all the fear, hatred, sorrow, and yearning had been leading to this moment.
And so, the boy asked one question:
"Will you teach me… how to never be weak again?"
The Sith Lord stood tall, and in that moment, the storm above Hangzhou crackled with distant thunder.
"Yes, my apprentice. From this night forward…you are mine."
Henceforth You shall be known as arutat vader after arutat Ancient sith Lord of Forge.