Cannon fodder in a classic cultivation story

1. First breath

(The story is under editing/light rewriting, so some story points may be disconnected)

Su Jing "woke up" senseless.

She knew she could breathe, see, and hear- it was buried deep in her subconscious.

She was breathing, yes. Hearing. Feeling. She was alive. Her mind could rationalise that perfectly.

However, once she attempted to be truly aware of those things, something obscured her inner mind. Her eyes undoubtedly perceived things, her ears heard, and her mouth spoke, but she, Su Jing, could not connect with them, as if she were trapped in an endless snare from which she could not escape.

In other words, Su Jing was separated from herself.

But was her subconscious really telling the truth? Was this her "living"? 

If yes, then surely life felt meaningless. Su Jing would have naturally preferred to stop this useless and ongoing train of thought. 

The heavy weight of her thoughts increased with each moment, till it descended to her neck, to the tip of her tongue. The flow of her previous actions halted, and for the first time, Su Jing truly felt something. Pain. Her throat was on fire. 

The abruptness startled Su Jing's mind—or rather, her body. She gasped sharply, air flooding into her lungs with such intensity that she nearly choked on this "first" breath.

Coughing, the image around her gradually began to take shape, morphing into various colours and hazy sounds. The smells, the strong perfume someone whore or the disgusting sweat.

A bright light also hit her right in the face.

All this made her mind spin around, long gone from the previous peaceful state.

Just like that, the once-blurry shapes morphed into a sky and earth, mountain and forest, into objects and people. Towering pine trees were circling her all around, and as Su Jing lowered her head, she realised she had been directly looking at the sun all this time.

Thankfully, the blind lights she saw gradually disappeared, her eyes relaxing. 

The place where she stood was a flat, open clearing that had been partially carved out of the mountain slope. On each side, there were cloth banners with striking characters fluttering from wooden poles, just below marking an enormous gathering of people—some nervously talking among themselves, others standing alone with tight expressions. Not far away, small tents and temporary stalls had been set up under the trees, along with various carriages, big or small.

Su Jing had such a great view of things because she was right at the centre, on a platform a little higher above, on which only one other person accompanied her.

She locked the air inside her chest to keep calm.

That person was an ugly, short, old man.

Su Jing couldn't help but stare at the man's long beard, which cascaded down his chest. He wore a light blue robe with soft white embroidery on the sleeves that resembled clouds. Yet, the serene clothes contrasted greatly with the appearance above, as his lush eyebrows almost covered his eyes.

Although he said nothing, the way he stood besides her made Su Jing feel like she'd done something wrong.

"What's with her?" A voice was heard in the crowd.

"She's clearly holding on to the master to make him pity her!"

"As if she even has a chance!"

Hearing what they were talking about made Su Jing pause in her actions. She turned her attention back to the old man, and as she did, she only now understood why her hand had felt heavy all this time.