"LiAi..." Xian Lian's voice was a fragile whisper, tight with effort, as if each word cost her dearly.
Qian'ai froze, his heart pounding in his chest, his gaze locked on hers, his eyes wide with terror. Tears blurred his vision.
"Mom..." His voice cracked, barely a whisper, desperate and raw.
Xian Lian's fingers dug into him, urgent, insistent. "Now!" she snapped, her voice sharp, filled with unspoken dread.
His hands shook violently as he fumbled with the latch. The orange bird fluttered into the sky, fragile and free.
The sword tore through her with a sickening sound, and Xian Lian's breath hitched, a flood of crimson spilling from her side. She staggered but held on, her will unyielding. Her gaze met Hao Jian's—defiant, unwavering.
Hao Jian opened his mouth, but she silenced him with a single, searing glance.
"You're not welcome here," she said, her voice a low, cutting whisper. "I will never go with you—not while I still breathe."
Her words sliced through the air, a promise as final as any blade. Hao Jian's jaw clenched. Frustration swelled in him—sharp, bitter—rising from somewhere deep.
He wanted her. All of her. Untouched. Whole. Only then could he breathe easy again, as if her completeness might quiet the storm he'd unleashed.
Qian'ai's gaze never wavered from his mother, her blood staining the ground beneath her—an undeniable testament to the sacrifice she was making. Despite the agony, she stood unmoving, an unwavering pillar of strength.
His chest felt hollow, aching with an emptiness too vast to name. In the silence, something dark and aching unfurled in him—a desperate yearning for his father's presence. If only he could return... perhaps, just perhaps, he could undo the nightmare creeping into every corner of their world.
Hao Jian's gaze flicked to Qian'ai, who stood motionless, fear radiating from him like an aura. A dark, irrational urge surged in Hao Jian—a twisted, possessive feeling that even extended to Xian Lian's child, an instinct that made his gut twist.
With a roar, Hao Jian lunged toward Qian'ai, but Xian Lian moved faster. Her blade sliced through the air with a sharp, unwavering defiance. The clash rang out, brutal and loud. Despite the blood soaking her, her sword never wavered.
Each strike was a cry for survival, but with every movement, her strength dwindled, her steps slower, her breath shorter. The fight stretched on—an endless night where every strike seemed to drain her more.
The dim light caught the lethal glint of Hao Jian's sword as it slashed toward her. Xian Lian parried, but the blade nicked her arm, a sharp sting lost in the chaos. Then—too fast to react—Hao Jian let go, the weapon spinning, hurtling toward Qian'ai. Xian Lian saw it too late. With a burst of energy, she kicked Hao Jian away and used the momentum to throw herself at the sword, catching it just before it could strike her son as she dropped her sword on the way.
Qian'ai's breath hitched as his gaze locked onto the glinting steel. The scent of iron thickened the air, mingling with the cool night breeze. His mother's trembling fingers, slick with her own blood, clenched the unforgiving edge—her final shield between him and death.
"Xian Lian!" Hao Jian's voice cracked with raw emotion as he watched her sacrifice herself without hesitation. He felt an unfamiliar knot tighten in his chest as she hurled his sword aside, her wound now flowing freely.
"Mom..." Qian'ai whispered, his voice cracking. Xian Lian gave him a faint, painful smile, her eyes softening despite the pain.
"LiAi... I'm okay," she murmured, the words barely escaping her lips as her strength gave way, and she collapsed to the ground.
"Mom!" Qian'ai cried, his heart shattering as he cradled her head in his lap, panic seizing him. Hao Jian rushed forward, but before he could reach her, a gust of wind, laden with leaves, slammed into him, forcing him back.
A figure emerged from the shadows, moving with swift grace. In a blur of motion, they swooped down, catching Xian Lian's fragile body in their arms. Xian Lian's eyes fluttered open, and a faint smile curved her lips as she looked up.
"Fu jun..." she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Zhiyong dropped to his knees, his pulse hammering in his ears. "Xian Lian…" The name escaped him in a whisper, as fragile as the breath she was struggling to hold. Crimson spread across her robes, stark against her pale skin. His hands trembled as he reached for her, knowing she was slipping away. She lifted her hand, brushing his cheek weakly—a silent farewell.
"My dear... you must protect them, no matter what," she murmured, her voice weak but resolute. "They need your guidance... I won't be here to provide it. Forget my past—it's gone. My mother... there's nothing left of her, and the answers are lost. Our children... they need you now more than ever."
Tears filled Zhiyong's eyes as her words sank in, the weight of her sacrifice breaking his heart. He had failed to protect her, to protect them all—and now it was too late.
With her remaining strength, Xian Lian pulled from her dress the ornament her mother had given her. She held it out to Zhiyong, her hand trembling with the effort.
"Give this to Yuyu... for her birthday..." Her smile flickered, then faded, but her gaze softened as she entrusted him with this last token of love for their daughter.
Her hand slowly dropped, lifeless, as her face paled, the light fading from her eyes. Zhiyong's heart stopped with the realization that she was gone. Her final breath was but a whisper in the wind, fading into silence as the light in her eyes dimmed forever.
"Who dares harm my wife and child?" Zhiyong's voice broke the stillness, full of fury as he glared at Hao Jian, his body rigid with rage. "Who dares trespass in my home?"
Qian'ai sobbed uncontrollably beside them, his cries racking his small frame as he clutched Zhiyong's arm.
"Baba... please don't go," Qian'ai pleaded, the guilt, shame, and fear heavy in his words. Zhiyong turned, his heart breaking at the sight of his son's anguish. He paused, torn between the need to protect his children and the sorrow that consumed him. Slowly, he laid Xian Lian's body on the ground, his hands shaking as he pulled his son into a tight embrace.
Hao Jian stood frozen, his mind racing, the magnitude of Xian Lian's death crashing over him. His chest tightened as he reached out toward her lifeless body, disbelief and regret twisting inside him. His fingers curled, as if trying to grasp something already lost.
Zhiyong's piercing glare burned into him, and the steel in his grip gleamed under the dim light. "Leave before I kill you," Zhiyong spat, his voice as sharp as the blade he held. "I will not let my child suffer further at the hands of someone who has no right to my family."
Hao Jian swallowed hard. His pulse thundered in his ears as he considered his options. Fight? Speak? Plead? But the fury in Zhiyong's stance made it clear—this was not a battle he could win.
For the first time, fear outweighed his obsession. He took a step back, his gaze lingering on Xian Lian's body. With one last look—one final, bitter loss—he turned and vanished into the night.
Zhiyong did not watch him leave. His focus remained on the lifeless form of the woman he had sworn to protect. The silence that followed was suffocating, punctuated only by the muffled sobs of Qian'ai. As if the world itself mourned her, a chilling wind swept through the courtyard, rustling the leaves above. Zhiyong exhaled shakily, forcing himself to move toward her, though every step felt like walking through mud.
Only then did he kneel, pressing his forehead against Xian Lian's bloodied robes.
"I was too late."
The weight of her sacrifice settled over him, drowning out everything else.
"Baba..." Tian Ke cried, rushing to him.
Zhiyong lowered Qian'ai gently to the ground before wrapping his arms around Yun Yuhua. Her innocent laughter filled the air, and in that moment, the contrast of her pure joy against the pain that had just unfolded broke him. Tears streamed down his face as he held her close, grateful for her innocence amid the wreckage of their lives.
Tian Ke, realizing the truth of their mother's death, collapsed beside Qian'ai. The two siblings wept together, their grief overwhelming.
The following evening, Zhiyong buried Xian Lian in silence. He knelt before her tombstone, unable to find solace, tears falling freely as he mourned the love of his life.
Tian Ke approached quietly, his heart heavy with sorrow. Leaving Qian'ai and Yun Yuhua behind, he walked slowly toward his father, guilt weighing on him for not being there for Xian Lian when she needed him most. He reached out and gently grasped Zhiyong's hand.
"Baba..." Tian Ke whispered.
Zhiyong turned, his face softening in response to the pain reflected in Tian Ke's eyes. He pulled his son into his arms, offering what little comfort he could, though his own heart remained fractured with guilt and grief.
"I'll be here for you all. Don't worry," Zhiyong reassured, his voice steady despite the storm inside. Tian Ke nodded slowly, his eyes reflecting quiet acceptance, though the weight of the loss still lingered in the air.
"I have to be stronger," Tian Ke murmured, his fists clenching at his sides. The tremor in his voice betrayed the storm within—a battle between grief and resolve.
Zhiyong paused and turned to look at him. Tian Ke's brow furrowed, his gaze distant.
"I feel... weak for not helping Mom," he admitted, guilt weighing heavily on his heart.
Zhiyong saw the trauma in his children's eyes, but also the flicker of resolve to protect each other. He wiped away his own tears and gently patted Tian Ke's head, offering a reassuring smile.
"Once LiAi is better, we'll start training again," Zhiyong said with quiet determination. Tian Ke nodded, his resolve hardening.
The next day, Zhiyong spoke to Ruqi about his decision to spend more time with his children on behalf of Xian Lian, who had passed away. Ruqi, her face etched with sorrow, assured him she would support their family, even without a mother, if they ever decided to return. Zhiyong, accompanied by his children, set out in search of a new home, as the one he had shared with Xian Lian now haunted him with the painful memory of her death.
Throughout the day, Zhiyong focused on teaching his sons, guiding them to channel their aura through their swords. Yun Yuhua, now growing into a young girl, excelled in precision with ranged weapons. Impressed by her skill, Zhiyong devoted his attention to perfecting her use of the bow and throwing daggers. The years of training were grueling, but the bond of love and the shared desire to protect one another gave the children the strength to endure.
Eight years had passed since Xian Lian's death. The ache had not faded with time, though Zhiyong had worked tirelessly to provide his children with a semblance of peace.
They had settled near Xian Lian's childhood home—an isolated haven where the memories of her still lingered, almost palpable. Despite his attempts to move forward, unresolved questions clung to him, like stubborn shadows in the corners of his mind. The murder of her mother, her father's disappearance, the attack on Master Gin… Were these events truly unrelated, or had something darker been at play?
One evening, as Zhiyong wandered through the abandoned home where Xian Lian had grown up, his fingers brushed against a familiar texture—smooth, lacquered wood beneath a thick layer of dust. The safe. He hesitated, heart pounding as he knelt before it.
As he turned the lock, a faint metallic click echoed through the room. The lid creaked open, revealing aged parchment folded carefully inside. His breath caught as he unfolded the first letter, the ink still sharp despite the passing years.
Ming.
The next was in Joseon script.
His chest tightened. These letters weren't just remnants of the past—they were a door to the truth he had long feared uncovering.
Without another thought, he rose to his feet, the letters gripped tightly in his hands. He needed answers.
Standing before them, torn between the need to investigate and the pain of leaving them again, he found himself speechless.
"Baba?" Fifteen-year-old Tian Ke's voice broke the silence, cutting through the tension. Zhiyong turned to him, uncertain of how to explain what churned inside him.
"Tian Ke..." Zhiyong began, his voice faltering, unsure whether to speak of their late mother. The thought of her death and the secrets surrounding it made his words catch in his throat.
"Baba. Are you okay?" Tian Ke asked, concern softening his words as he looked at his father.
Zhiyong managed a faint smile, keeping his thoughts to himself for the moment.
"Tian Ke, let's prepare for dinner," Zhiyong said, gently patting Tian Ke's shoulder. Tian Ke smiled and nodded, following his father without another word.
After dinner, Qian'ai and Yun Yuhua drifted off to sleep in their respective rooms. Tian Ke stayed awake, sensing his father's troubled mind. Zhiyong sat at the table, lost in thought, unsure of what to do next.
Seeing his father's unrest, Tian Ke quietly sat down across from him, watching him closely.
"Tian Ke..." Zhiyong spoke, his voice soft yet heavy with unspoken burdens.
Tian Ke watched his father carefully. "Baba... you're troubled. Tell me what's wrong."
Zhiyong exhaled. "I found something about your grandparents." His voice was hoarse. "It ties them to my master's death."
A sharp inhale. Tian Ke tensed, his fingers curling against his knee. "What do you mean?"
Zhiyong hesitated. "I don't know yet. But I need to find out."
"But it also has to do with Joseon. I just don't understand why... I know your mother's mother was from Joseon, but why would they want to harm Ming people?" Zhiyong muttered, his brow furrowed in confusion. Tian Ke could see the weight of his father's worry, and though the situation was grim, he offered a small smile, trying to ease his father's troubled mind.
"Baba... If you must seek answers, I am old enough now to care for LiAi and Yuyu. You don't have to worry about us," Tian Ke assured Zhiyong, his voice steady and confident.
Zhiyong looked at his son, pride swelling in his chest. The maturity in Tian Ke's words gave him a sense of peace, knowing his children were capable of standing strong, even in his absence. He smiled warmly, patting Tian Ke's cheek.
"My son... You've grown into a man. I'm proud," Zhiyong said, his voice filled with warmth and admiration. Tian Ke blushed softly, a hint of embarrassment coloring his face at the compliment, but a gentle smile tugged at his lips.
The next morning, as the family gathered for breakfast, Zhiyong broke the silence with an unexpected announcement.
"My children... I must embark on a long journey," he said, his voice firm yet laced with emotion. "I do not know how long I will be gone. But I have asked my elder to look after you. She is like a mother to both me and your mother."
Qian'ai and Yun Yuhua exchanged uncertain glances, unsure of what was happening.
"Why?" Qian'ai asked, his curiosity evident.
Zhiyong smiled and ruffled his son's hair. "I must investigate something tied to your late grandmother," he explained softly.
Qian'ai nodded slowly, understanding the connection to his mother's last wish.
As dusk settled, Zhiyong embraced his children one last time. Tian Ke met his gaze, silent but resolute. Zhiyong mounted his horse, pausing as the wind stirred the trees—Xian Lian's presence felt in the rustling leaves. He exhaled slowly, gripping the reins. "I will find the truth," he murmured. Then, without looking back, he rode into the fading light.