"Against the Heavens: The Villain's Return"

The early morning sun cast a faint golden hue over the park, its warmth brushing lightly over the leaves that swayed with a soft whisper. The world was still calm, peaceful — the kind of peace that came before a storm.

Leo Aetherwind's calm gaze followed the figure of Lu Xio, who stood near the fallen old man, his face twisted with a mix of shock and determination.

Leo's brows furrowed slightly as he took a step closer. Though his heart had grown accustomed to the cold logic of a villain's life, there was one principle he never broke — he never harmed the innocent, nor stood idle when a life dangled on the edge of death.

For a brief moment, his silence spoke more than words. He looked at the unconscious old man, then at Lu Xio, who stood trembling, arguing nonsensically.

Lu Xio's tone rose, desperate and defensive.

"I saw him first! I learned medicine from my master in the old town — I know what to do! I can definitely cure him!"

His words were full of confidence, yet they carried a false echo — a sound of someone trying to convince themselves more than anyone else.

Leo's lips curved slightly, a faint twitch betraying his inner irritation. So this is the so-called "Protagonist"? he thought with mild amusement and disdain. A fool blinded by self-importance, so eager to snatch every 'opportunity' that fate throws his way, even when a man's life is at stake.

The murmurs of the crowd began to swell.

"Yeah, at least let the young man try," one passerby said.

Another joined, "Yes, yes — he seems reliable. Maybe he really knows medicine!"

The crowd nodded, their voices combining into a wave that pressed against Leo's patience.

He sighed deeply, his silver hair catching the sunlight like strands of moonlight against the morning sky. Human hearts truly are foolish, he mused. They are blinded by youthful faces and pretty words.

In his mind, a quote echoed faintly, one he had once read from an old Chinese philosopher:

> "The world bows not to truth, but to confidence. A liar with conviction shall win hearts faster than a sage with doubt."

Leo's jaw tightened, yet he remained calm.

He turned his gaze to the old man lying unconscious on the bench. The frail body trembled slightly, a faint pulse fluttering beneath the skin. It was clear — this was not a matter for arguments, but for action.

In a composed but firm voice, Leo spoke.

"You idiot," he said flatly, his tone slicing through the noise like cold steel. "This is a matter of life and death — not some childish competition. Can't you see his condition? Forget our past grudges, Lu Xio. Let me handle the treatment."

But Lu Xio, puffed up by the voices of support, clenched his fists. His pride burned too fiercely to back down now. "No," he said with false righteousness. "You're trying to steal this from me again, aren't you? I can do it. I won't back away."

Leo's face remained emotionless, though inwardly his frustration boiled. Destiny always favors the fool, he thought bitterly. The so-called "heavenly way" truly knows how to make a mockery of logic.

The onlookers grew louder, more insistent, their naive faith in Lu Xio pressing Leo into silence.

"Come on, young man! Don't stop him — let him try!"

"Yeah, the boy looks confident!"

"Maybe it's fate that he's here now!"

Leo's lips curved faintly in a dry, ironic smile. Yes, he thought. Fate indeed — but not yours to claim, Lu Xio.

Just then, the old man stirred. A low groan escaped his lips as his eyelids fluttered open. The world held its breath for that one moment.

Leo stepped forward immediately. His voice softened, gentle but commanding, "Old man, stay still. I'll treat you now."

But the old man's dimming eyes turned — not toward Leo, but to Lu Xio. His trembling hand reached out and grasped Lu Xio's wrist weakly.

"You…" the old man rasped, his breath shallow but filled with recognition. "You… young man, help me… I'll… repay you… anything you wish."

Leo's pupils narrowed slightly, his expression unreadable. He could feel the gears of destiny grinding once again — the classic protagonist encounter.

He could almost laugh at how predictable it was.

So, it's that kind of scene, Leo thought. The wounded benefactor, the noble savior, the promised reward. A perfect stepping stone for the "hero."

Lu Xio, emboldened by those words, puffed up with pride. "Don't worry, old man! I will save you. I promise!" he declared loudly, his tone theatrical.

He turned toward Leo, a smug smile stretching across his lips. His eyes gleamed with arrogance as if declaring: See? This is the outcome. I will get everything I want.

Leo met his gaze but didn't flinch. He didn't even bother responding. Instead, he folded his arms behind his back, watching silently.

The moment stretched long — two destinies standing side by side, both walking the same path yet in opposite directions.

In that quiet tension, an ancient Indian proverb crossed Leo's mind:

> "The fool rushes to claim victory before the arrow has left the bow. The wise waits until the target falls."

Lu Xio knelt beside the old man and began his so-called treatment. His hands trembled slightly, but his confidence blinded him from noticing.

"I learned this from my master," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else, his fingers pressing against the old man's chest in awkward rhythm. "Don't worry, I know what to do."

Leo's sharp eyes observed every motion with surgical precision. He could tell instantly that Lu Xio's movements were untrained, chaotic — but the onlookers, filled with blind hope, failed to notice.

One woman in the crowd whispered, "Oh, look how skilled he is!"

Another nodded, "Yes, yes, the young man must be a miracle doctor!"

Leo's inner voice sneered at the irony. In this world, he thought, perception outweighs truth. They see what they wish to see, not what is.

The air grew thick with murmurs and whispers. Lu Xio's smugness only deepened. The sunlight framed his figure as if heaven itself was blessing him. He looked every part the protagonist of a fateful story.

What a performance, Leo mused darkly.

Slowly, color began to return to the old man's face. His breathing steadied, the trembling eased. The crowd gasped in delight.

"See! I told you, he could do it!"

"Such a talented young man!"

"We should find out his name — someone like him will go far!"

Their praise fell like rain on Lu Xio's inflated ego. He grinned, his crooked smile stretching unnaturally across his face. His heart swelled with triumph, with pride, with the sweet illusion of success.

He turned toward Leo, his expression dripping with superiority. The kind of look that said — You lose.

Leo didn't respond. He stood with his hands still behind his back, his calm eyes watching the scene unfold. There was no anger, no jealousy — only an icy patience, as if waiting for a thread to snap.

In that still moment, the park felt oddly quiet despite the chatter. The wind carried a strange omen — something unseen, yet palpable.

A line from an ancient Chinese poem surfaced in Leo's mind, one that mirrored his emotion perfectly:

> "When heaven's balance tilts, the proud shall fall; when the cup of fate overflows, even gods must drown."

And so, Leo waited.

Waited for the inevitable.

Because fate might favor the protagonist, but Leo Aetherwind had long learned how to twist fate itself.

The sunlight dimmed slightly as a cloud passed overhead. The faint rustle of leaves whispered of a coming change — an unseen tension coiling quietly beneath the surface.

Lu Xio continued smiling, unaware that the moment he believed himself victorious was the exact moment destiny prepared to humiliate him.

Leo's lips curved ever so slightly, a ghost of amusement flickering across his face.

> "Pride blinds even the chosen," he thought silently. "But when blindness meets reality, even a 'hero' must face the dark."

The warmth of the morning sun still lingered in the park, but the air had shifted—subtle yet unmistakable. A whisper of unease rippled among the crowd, though they couldn't yet understand why.

Leo Aetherwind stood in silence, his sharp gaze locked on Lu Xio and the frail old man who had just moments ago appeared to be recovering. The people around were still busy clapping, praising, and marveling at the so-called miracle.

"Ah, look at him! Such steady hands," one of the onlookers said.

"Indeed, he must be some kind of hidden genius!" another replied with awe.

But Leo's expression didn't change. His silver eyes were calm, cold, and assessing. He could already see it—the slight tremor in the old man's fingers, the uneven pulse, the faint discoloration beneath his nails. Subtle signs that no one else could perceive.

Inside his mind, his thoughts were quiet but precise: Too much stimulation of the heart meridian… he forced the blood flow instead of stabilizing it. Amateur.

He could almost predict what would happen next.

Lu Xio, meanwhile, was basking in the glow of praise. His crooked smile widened, his chest puffed out. The more the people admired him, the more his arrogance inflated.

Turning to face Leo, he smirked mockingly. "See, Leo Aetherwind," he said in a self-satisfied tone, "this is what true talent looks like. I don't need your help or your advice. Fate has chosen me."

Leo simply stared at him. No anger. No irritation. Only quiet amusement.

Inwardly, he mused, Chosen by fate? You're just dancing to its tune, not realizing that it already chose your downfall the moment you smiled.

A soft breeze passed between them, rustling the leaves.

At that moment, a quote surfaced in Leo's mind—an ancient Chinese saying that seemed carved for this very instant:

> "When arrogance climbs too high, the heavens cut its wings."

Lu Xio, completely unaware of the growing danger, continued to bask in his illusion of triumph. The crowd's applause filled his ears like a melody of victory.

"Yes, yes, he's such a good doctor!"

"I wish I had someone like him in my family!"

"A true prodigy!"

The voices of admiration swirled like honey around his ego.

Leo, however, remained still—his hands clasped behind his back, eyes half-lidded in quiet thought.

The protagonist's script is always the same, he thought dryly. The hero saves someone important, earns their gratitude, gains a mysterious connection, and steps closer to greatness. But what happens when the script is… interrupted?

And then, it happened.

The sound was faint at first—barely audible. A single cough, sharp and dry.

Then another.

And another.

The old man's body convulsed violently. His eyes widened in horror as his hands shot up to his chest, clutching it tightly. A deep, wet sound followed as he coughed out a thick stream of blood, splattering across the stone pavement.

The cheerful voices turned to gasps.

"Wha—what happened?!"

"Did he… did he just cough blood?"

"Oh my god, look at his face!"

The old man's face, once rosy with false recovery, was now pale as snow—drained of all life. His breathing was erratic, his chest heaving with pain.

Lu Xio froze. His confident grin shattered instantly. His pupils trembled as if struck by lightning.

"No… no, that's impossible," he muttered weakly. "I… I cured him! He was fine a second ago!"

Leo's calm voice finally broke the silence. "You forced his blood flow instead of stabilizing it," he said, tone mild but edged with quiet authority. "His heart was too weak to withstand such pressure. You didn't save him—you just accelerated his collapse."

Lu Xio's face twisted in disbelief. "No! You're lying!"

But the murmurs of the crowd had already shifted.

"Wait, so he didn't cure him?"

"Look at the old man—he's worse than before!"

"Maybe the silver-haired guy was right!"

The same people who had sung Lu Xio's praises just moments ago now turned on him with suspicion and fear.

One old lady whispered, trembling, "How cruel… pretending to be a doctor…"

Another murmured, "He almost killed the man!"

Lu Xio's mind buzzed in panic. His knees weakened. No… no, this wasn't how it was supposed to go… I was supposed to save him, not—

His thoughts broke off when the old man's body slumped sideways on the bench, his hand slipping from Lu Xio's trembling grasp.

A heavy silence descended. Even the wind seemed to pause.

And in that stillness, Leo's faint chuckle echoed like a whisper of inevitability.

"Fate truly has a twisted sense of humor," he murmured softly, just loud enough for Lu Xio to hear.

Lu Xio's eyes darted toward him, full of fury and confusion. "You—what did you do?!"

Leo tilted his head slightly, an amused smirk playing on his lips. "Nothing at all. You did it yourself. Remember, 'heaven helps those who act with humility.' You, on the other hand…"

He stepped closer, his voice lowering into a faint, cold tone that carried both mockery and truth.

> "Pride is a poison that fools mistake for strength."

The crowd was now in chaos—some calling for an ambulance, others backing away in fear. The scene that was supposed to be Lu Xio's grand opportunity had turned into a disaster.

As medics rushed toward the scene, Leo took one last glance at the old man, then at the trembling Lu Xio. His gaze was neither sympathetic nor cruel—merely indifferent.

This is how it begins, he thought. The downfall of another protagonist who mistook arrogance for destiny.

He turned away, his footsteps calm and measured.

The chatter of the crowd faded behind him, replaced by the rhythmic sound of his shoes against the stone path.

In his mind, an ancient Indian quote resonated like a silent verdict:

> "He who believes destiny bows to him shall find his neck under its foot."

Leo's expression didn't change, but deep within his heart, there was a faint flicker of satisfaction.

He didn't need to manipulate fate this time. The protagonist had destroyed himself.

Behind him, Lu Xio fell to his knees, his hands trembling. His mind was spinning with fear, shame, and disbelief. His so-called "heroic moment" had turned into public humiliation.

He looked up at Leo's retreating figure, his eyes filled with resentment and confusion. He didn't understand why everything went wrong. Why fate, which always seemed to favor him, had suddenly turned its back.

Leo, however, knew the answer.

Because fate, too, could be rewritten.

He paused at the park's edge, letting the sunlight brush across his silver hair. Without turning back, he whispered faintly to himself—words that carried both meaning and mockery:

> "In the end, heaven's stage has room for only one lead actor."

And with that, Leo walked away, leaving behind the shattered illusion of a man who once thought himself chosen by destiny.

The crowd continued murmuring behind him. Lu Xio's name, which moments ago echoed in admiration, now trembled in disgust.

The karmic wheel had turned faster than anyone expected.

Leo's faint smirk returned, almost invisible. The script remains the same, he thought, but the roles… I decide who plays them.

The wind brushed past, scattering the last whispers of chaos, as if even the heavens silently acknowledged the new author of fate.

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End of Chapter

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