Chapter 4: Unfair skies.
Xu Tianrong stopped at the riverbank. The tracks faded in the current, as if the water tried to erase any trace of the recent confrontation. The river flowed with indifferent serenity, ignoring the tragedy that had stained its course.
The moon, shy amidst the mist, cast its pale light over the silent landscape. A nocturnal breeze danced around him, carrying with it the metallic scent of still-fresh blood.
For a moment, he allowed himself to stay still, staring at the river as though he were just another spectator. Long Qiang, the man he had once respected, no longer existed. His life had been extinguished along with his dreams of protecting what he loved. But Xu's victory was not complete. There was something more: Long's children.
They were the last obstacle he had to eliminate.
With a calculated gesture, Xu Tianrong drew a crystal sphere from his chest. Its polished surface reflected the moonlight, but what it contained was what truly mattered: a single drop of blood. That vital essence, extracted from Long before his death, vibrated when it made contact with his energy. The drop stirred and, like a living needle, began to spin slowly, until it stopped, pointing downstream.
—Did you really think you could escape from me using the river? —he murmured, his voice laden with a mocking calm.
The needle remained firm, a sinister beacon pointing the way to the small fugitives. Xu caressed the sphere with a twisted smile, savoring the fear he imagined in the children. Around him, the forest seemed to hold its breath. The trees, like living shadows, bent their branches before his presence, as if recognizing the danger he represented.
—Let's move forward— His command was spoken softly, but in his tone lurked a promise of destruction.
He began walking along the riverbank, his steps light, precise, like a predator on the hunt. The forest filled with whispers as the wind caressed the bamboo leaves and the river waters. In the distance, an owl hooted, its lament breaking the silence, like an omen of what was to come. Xu Tianrong did not hurry; he knew the children's fate was already sealed.
—Poor creatures— He spoke almost tenderly, though his tone was tinged with cold disdain —Their father thought he could save them.
He paused for a moment, remembering Long Qiang's face in his final moments. The desperation and sacrifice of that man had been in vain.
—It was all for nothing.
The blood needle continued marking the way, infallible and relentless. The river whispered indifferently, its waters reflecting an inevitable fate.
—Did you think you could protect them, Long? —he asked the air, as if the spirit of the dead man could respond —Even after losing everything, did you think there was hope?
A low, dark laugh escaped his lips. His men followed him in silence, motionless, like lurking shadows. It was unnecessary for them to speak; they knew there was no escape for Long Qiang's children.
The river continued to flow, but in Xu Tianrong's mind, the hunt had already ended.
The mist hung over us like a shroud, enveloping everything in an oppressive silence. The icy water of the river bit at my feet, but I could not stop. Only one thought was lodged in my mind: move forward.
My brothers trembled beside me, their small hands gripping me tightly, seeking a security I didn't know if I could offer. The weight of their dependence was overwhelming. Each step I took seemed to bring our pursuers closer; I could feel their eyes fixed on us, watching us from the shadows.
My father's face appeared in my mind, his last breath still echoing in my ears. He had entrusted me with his final wish: protect them. I, the eldest, was meant to be their shield. But how could I protect them when fear coiled inside me like a poisonous snake?
A sound broke the constant murmur of the river: branches cracking under an unknown weight. My heart stopped for a moment before resuming its frantic beat, so loud I feared it would betray us.
—Silence— My voice was a whisper, drowned by fear, but filled with urgency —Hide. If necessary, under the water.
Their eyes met mine, full of terror and confusion, but they obeyed. I saw them submerge into the river, their small bodies disappearing beneath the surface. The water, cold and dark, enveloped them like an unrelenting cloak.
There was no time to think. The danger was here.
The wind carried whispers, distant laughter floating like mocking echoes between the trees. Then, the silence... That cursed silence that tightened the chest like an invisible fist. They were near; I felt it in my skin, in the air thick with the tension before the attack.
Bai Xuebing gritted his teeth, gripping the machete he had picked up in his flight. The weapon was heavy, too much for his small hands, but at that moment, it was all he had. There was no room for fear, though it twisted inside him like a hungry beast.
His brothers, barely visible between the shadows and water, trembled from the cold and terror. Their reflection on the river's surface was fragile, brittle, as if the slightest sound could shatter it. Bai Xuebing knew he couldn't protect them. But he could buy them time.
—Listen to me carefully— he whispered, his voice low and trembling —Follow the river.
Don't look back. Run as far as you can.
His younger brother's eyes filled with silent tears, but there were no reproaches, no questions. Both nodded with a broken gesture, as if they knew those words were both an order and a farewell.
—Trust me. This is just a game— he lied, swallowing the knot that closed his throat.
He pushed them downstream with one last whisper before turning and running in the opposite direction.
The branches tore at his skin, and the cold bit at his bare feet, but he kept moving, each step driven by a promise he couldn't break: protect them, even if it meant facing the inevitable.
It didn't take long for him to hear them. The crackling of branches and the splashing of heavy boots behind him. They were close, too close.
Suddenly, a shadow emerged from the mist ahead of him. Three figures materialized like specters; their clothes stained and their weapons gleaming under the diffuse moonlight.
The leader took a step forward. His presence was oppressive, as if every movement of his absorbed the air around him. A scar ran through his cheek, giving him an even more sinister look.
—Did you really think you could escape?— His voice, soft and mocking, rang out like a sentence.
Bai Xuebing raised the machete with both hands, trembling but firm. He knew he had no chance, but he did not retreat.
—If I'm going to die— he murmured to himself, barely audible —At least I'll take one of you with me.
The response was a dry laugh, full of disdain. Xu Tianrong stepped forward, his sword reflecting the faint light as his men flanked him. His eyes, dark and full of cruelty, scrutinized the boy like a predator evaluating its prey.
—Brave, like your father— he said in a casual tone —But just as stupid.
Bai Xuebing charged with a stifled scream, driven more by desperation than technique. His machete cut through the air in a clumsy arc, but Xu Tianrong barely had to move his sword to deflect the attack. The sound of metal clashing echoed in the fog, dry and final.
The impact knocked him down. Bai Xuebing fell to the ground, gasping, his hands covered in mud. Everything in his body screamed at him to stay down, to stop fighting. But then he saw the reflection of his brothers in the water in his mind, their small faces filled with fear.
—How touching— murmured one of the men, stepping forward. His sword rose, gleaming like a fang in the dim light —But useless.
The young boy got up again, staggering, but with a ferocity in his eyes that even surprised his pursuers.
—I'm still here— he growled, lifting the machete once more.
Xu Tianrong watched him, amused, as a beam of moonlight illuminated the boy covered in mud and blood.
—That won't change anything, boy.
The predator and the prey stood face to face. And although the result seemed written, Bai Xuebing did not allow his spirit to falter. The promise to his father held him up, even as fate dragged him toward the abyss.
—You are brave— said the man with contempt, without even trying.
Bai Xuebing did not reply. There was no need.
The impact came like thunder. The kick to his stomach doubled him over, knocking the breath out of him. He fell to his knees, his trembling hands trying to hold onto something. The cold of the earth and the metallic heat of the blood in his mouth mixed in a grotesque instant. When he tried to get up, another kick sent him crashing to the wet ground, his back hitting with a dull thud. The groan that escaped his lips was not surrender, but pure resistance.
The killers surrounded him like wolves, their steps calculated and their gazes filled with cruelty. In the distance, Xu Tianrong laughed softly, his voice echoing like a cruel omen of what was to come. Bai Xuebing knew. And still, he tried to get up.
Another kick hit him, this time in the back, forcing him to release the machete he had desperately clung to. His bloodied fingers searched for the weapon, but a hand grabbed him by the hair, lifting him roughly. In front of him, Xu Tianrong smiled, a mocking grin that seemed to pierce his soul.
—Do you really think you can gain anything with this?— he whispered maliciously —Delay our victory? Save your brothers?
The pain clouded Bai Xuebing's senses, but the words pierced the fog in his mind.
—Your father... he too thought he could save them. He sacrificed himself, thinking they were escaping. What a pity, right?— The disdain in his tone was like a dagger twisting.
Something deeper than physical pain broke Bai Xuebing. Not only was his body defeated, but his spirit crumbled under the weight of those words. The futility of his struggle hit him with overwhelming intensity.
And then, as if the nightmare couldn't get worse, two figures emerged from the fog, dragging his brothers. The little ones trembled, their eyes overflowing with a terror that seemed to overwhelm the world. Bai Xuebing felt an animalistic fire in his chest, an instinctive fury struggling to get out, but his broken body betrayed him. He barely managed to claw forward, his cry a guttural groan stifled by desperation.
Bai Xuebing's body trembled uncontrollably. Each breath was a challenge, a battle he fought against the pain enveloping him and something even more devastating consuming him from deep within. He was broken. His flesh, torn; his muscles, on the brink of collapse. But his mind wouldn't give up.
He screamed again and again, demanding that he rise, that he move.
—It can't be...!— he gasped with a thread of voice. His lips trembled, his throat barely allowing him to articulate words. —It can't end like this!
With a desperate effort, he tried to lift his body. His hands clawed at the ground, sinking into the cold mud as he tried to push himself forward. His legs, however, wouldn't respond. They barely held the weight of his determination. He tried again. And again. But the result was always the same: his treacherous body giving in to exhaustion.
He fell face-first, his face buried in the bloodstained mud. The sticky mixture covered his skin, but the dirt he felt was much deeper. Inside his chest, a roar grew, a mixture of frustration, rage, and fear. And then he saw it.
One of the assassins lifted his brother by the neck.
Desperation hit Bai Xuebing like an unrelenting torrent. He screamed. A wild cry, filled with helplessness, barely resonated between the cruel laughter of the monsters surrounding him.
—NO!— he managed to utter, his voice broken by pain —Let him go... let him go!
He tried to crawl toward his brother. His broken, bleeding nails dug into the earth as he pushed himself with everything he had left. His mouth tasted like blood, and every movement was a torment that pushed him to the limit.
But it wasn't enough. It would never be enough.
With eyes clouded by tears and sweat, he saw his brother's small body kicking in the air, defenseless. The dry sound of the neck snapping pierced his senses like thunder. The lifeless body fell to the ground.
Bai Xuebing stared at it, paralyzed, as the emptiness filled him completely. He tried to get up, run to him, protect him, but his limbs didn't respond. He could only crawl a few inches more before collapsing completely. His face sank into the mud, his hands stretched toward his brother, unable to reach him.
—No... no...— he murmured through sobs, his voice reduced to a whisper.
A shadow loomed over him. Xu Tianrong leaned down, his face adorned with a twisted smile, a cruel delight that made his gaze gleam like that of a satisfied predator.
—What's the matter?—he whispered, his voice laced with venom. —Did you really think you could save them? Did you believe, for even a second, that you had a chance?
His laughter echoed, a dark sound that pierced Bai Xuebing's heart like an invisible blade.
—You're as pathetic as your father.
The assassins surrounding him burst into laughter, their laughter filling the air like a pack of wolves celebrating the fall of their prey.
—This is what happens when you try to play the hero—Xu Tianrong continued, with a disdain that spat poison with every word—Look around you. All your effort, all your sacrifice... what was it for?
Bai Xuebing collapsed, defeated. Reality crushed him like an unrelenting storm, ripping away any trace of hope. Only emptiness remained. And then, his father's promise echoed in his mind.
"The heavens are just."
His father's voice was a distant, mocking echo.
"The heavens reward the worthy and punish the cruel."
But where were those just heavens now? Bai Xuebing gritted his teeth, his hands digging into the blood-stained earth, trembling with a mixture of rage and despair. —The heavens aren't just—he whispered, his words tinged with rising fury.
Xu Tianrong took a step toward him, his presence eclipsing any glimmer of light. One of the assassins held Bai Xuebing's last brother, a trembling boy, clinging to the shattered hope that someone would save him.
—It's time to end this—Xu Tianrong said, his tone indifferent, almost bored. He raised a finger, pointing at the boy as if delivering a divine sentence.
—Brother!—the boy screamed, his eyes filled with tears. —Help me!
Before Bai Xuebing could react, his brother's body exploded in a cloud of blood and guts. The remains rained down on him, soaking him, as the world around him crumbled completely.
Bai Xuebing's scream tore through the night, a sound that was both a lament and a vow. —NO...!
His hands trembled as they clenched the earth, while tears of helplessness fell from his eyes
—Brothers... Father...—he murmured, his voice broken by sobs—Forgive me... I couldn't protect you.
Xu Tianrong laughed one last time, a cruel sound that pierced Bai Xuebing's soul.
And in that moment, something changed. Deep within Bai Xuebing, where only the ashes of his will remained, a spark began to burn. A dark fire, fueled by rage, loss, and the broken promise. "The heavens aren't just."
If the heavens were not just, then he would burn them.
Xu Tianrong watched him coldly, leaning in closer.
—Is this what you thought you'd achieve? Save someone?—His laughter thundered like the echo of distant thunder—Your effort meant nothing.
The other assassins laughed with him, their mockery as sharp as blades. Bai Xuebing couldn't respond. The world crumbled around him, and all that remained was a heart-wrenching void.
—Because... why are you doing this? Why my village, my family, why did they have to die!
Xu Tianrong's lips curled into a devilish, mocking smile; this scene filled him with pleasure.
—You ask why? Haha, well, well, let me enlighten you.
His words were clear as water, and the truth was bitter in the whisper that reached Bai Xuebing's ear, giving him the answer he'd longed for.
—Because we wanted to. Because we could. Nothing more than that: simple fun.
Bai Xuebing's eyes filled with darkness, slowly descending into the despair of the abyss.
—Fun... it was just for fun...
For simple fun, his village was consumed by flames. For fun, so many people died in agony. For fun, his father died; for simple fun, he saw his two brothers brutally murdered before his eyes. Everything he loved died for simple fun.
As his gaze grew darker, his despair, rage, hatred, and madness grew, accompanied by demonic, mocking laughter. Before him, a demon stood.
—But if you want another reason, it's simple. You will die just like them, so at least take the truth to your grave.
Xu Tianrong knelt in front of him, and in a whisper in his ear, he spoke.
—It was ordered.
Because the truth was simple: he only wanted to enjoy himself, to watch Bai Xuebing's face as hatred disappeared and despair took its place. Soon, a demonic laugh was heard alongside cries of pain and despair.
—Ah... I guess it's all come to an end.
He murmured, more to himself than to his subordinates. His tone was full of disdain, as if he were witnessing the final act of an insignificant play. He turned around, his light footsteps echoing on the blood-soaked ground, and with a simple wave of his hand, he gave the order.
One of the men drew his sword, and with a precise movement, drove it into Bai Xuebing's back. The blade pierced his flesh effortlessly, taking with it the young man's last breath.
Bai Xuebing's body fell lifeless to the ground, the blood staining the mud beneath him. Xu Tianrong straightened up, watching the scene as if it were a finished work of art.
—We're leaving—he ordered, his voice devoid of emotion.
—Master, what do we do with the bodies?—asked one of the men, a twisted smile distorting his face as he surveyed the chaos they had wrought.
—Nothing. Leave them—Xu Tianrong replied coldly, his voice resonating like a hammer on an anvil—Soon the beasts will take care of them. Now, they are nothing more than carrion.
His words fell like an irrevocable sentence, sealing the fate of the dead. Without question, the men began to withdraw, leaving behind a scene soaked in death. The air was thick, heavy with the stench of blood and destruction, while the wind, like a silent witness, swept away the last traces of life that clung to the place.
Xu Tianrong led the retreat, his figure upright, radiating arrogance, as if the weight of the devastation he had caused were nothing more than a trivial step on his path. It was then that one of his subordinates approached him, their movements cautious, betraying both respect and fear.
—Do you think… that person will be satisfied?—they asked in a tone almost reverent, as if invoking the name of the one they referred to could bring divine punishment.
A cold smile appeared on Xu Tianrong's lips, as his gaze lost itself in the horizon, calculating and distant.
—That person will not only be satisfied—he said with a chilling certainty—They will be pleased. This is just the beginning. The blood of these insignificant ones is merely the tribute they expected.
Without bothering to look back, Xu Tianrong continued his march, his footsteps firm on the ground marked by fire and death. Around him, the night rose like a cloak of shadows, hiding the scars they had left behind, while the world seemed to hold its breath in the face of the horror that had unfolded.
In the mountains, the storm broke. The first drops fell, slow and heavy, hitting the bloodstained earth with an almost ritual cadence. The wind, once a whisper, now howled between the trees, as if the earth itself mourned the massacre.
The rain soon intensified. The embers still burning in the remains of the village began to die under its relentless advance. The flames, which hours earlier had consumed everything in fury, were extinguished, smothered by a sky that seemed unable to bear any more.
The tears of the heavens fell without rest, washing away the blood and mixing with the mud and ashes. It was a silent lament, an act of mourning that erased the last traces of those who had once lived there. Now, the fallen rested in the shadows, and the only sound that persisted was the constant patter of the rain.
It was as if the entire world had fallen silent, as if the heavens cried helplessly for those who had perished. But, as deep as the tears were, they could not bring the dead back, nor could they extinguish the hatred that burned in the depths of the living.
Among the ruins, something endured. Beneath the veil of the storm, hidden in the shadows, Bai Xuebing's hatred persisted like an indomitable flame. While the rain tried to wash away the suffering, a much darker fire began to burn within his heart, fueled by pain and rage.
And in the midst of the night, under the weight of the storm, that spark vowed never to extinguish.