Chapter 6: The World is your Home

The warrior whose hand had rotted away howled in pain, but before he could retreat, Luan lunged forward. His speed was inhuman—far beyond anything he had ever been capable of. He crashed into the injured warrior, his fingers digging into his flesh. The man's scream turned into a gurgle as his body convulsed, black veins spreading from where Luan touched him. The stench of decay grew unbearable, and the once proud warrior's face twisted in agony as his muscles trembled and his skin began to rot.

Luan's heart pounded in his chest, but there was no hesitation. The power surged through him, and with each second, the warrior's body seemed to crumble faster, his life force draining away.

"You—you're a monster!" the warrior managed to gasp, his voice tinged with terror as his once-strong arms flailed weakly, trying to break free.

Luan's eyes narrowed, the darkness inside him rising like a tidal wave. "A monster?" he repeated, his voice a low growl. "I'm only doing what needs to be done."

The second warrior swung his sword at Luan's back with a battle cry, the blade glinting in the dim light.

Move.

Before the blade could make contact, Luan twisted unnaturally, his body shifting with an impossible agility. The warrior's sword came down with terrifying speed, but Luan's hand shot out, catching it midair. The steel blade, once sharp and gleaming, began to crumble as the corrosion spread from Luan's fingertips, turning it brittle and fragile. With a flick of his wrist, the sword shattered into dust, the pieces scattering like ash in the wind.

The second warrior's eyes widened in terror. His mouth opened, but no words came out—only a faint, pitiful gasp. He staggered backward, eyes darting between the shattered remains of his weapon and Luan's cold, relentless gaze.

"M-Monster—" he stammered, stepping back in disbelief.

Luan didn't give him a chance to flee. His hand shot forward like a striking snake, gripping the warrior's throat. The man gasped in shock, his hands clawing at Luan's arm in a desperate attempt to break free. But the moment his fingers brushed against Luan's skin, they too began to rot. His fingers cracked and blackened, his nails disintegrating into dust.

"No!" the warrior screamed, his voice choked with panic as his body spasmed, his muscles seizing uncontrollably. His eyes bulged with terror as the corruption spread up his arm and through his chest.

Luan's grip tightened, his mind blank as he watched the life drain from the warrior's body. The man's body jerked in agony, a ragged cry escaping his lips before his entire frame crumpled in Luan's grasp, bones cracking, flesh withering. In the span of a few moments, the warrior became nothing more than a lifeless husk, falling limp and weightless to the ground.

Luan stood over him, his chest rising and falling with heavy, ragged breaths. The power coursing through his veins was intoxicating, addictive. He could feel it in every fiber of his being, the hunger gnawing at him, urging him to consume more. The battlefield was eerily silent now, save for the distant sounds of the wind rustling through the trees.

A ragged breath caught Luan's attention. He turned to see the other warrior, still alive but barely. The man was crawling, dragging his broken body across the dirt, leaving a trail of blood behind him. His movements were weak and sluggish, his face contorted in pain as he tried to escape.

Luan watched him for a moment, his heart hammering in his chest. The corruption still clung to his hands, and his mind felt like it was teetering on the edge of madness.

The crawling man whimpered, his eyes wide with fear. "P-Please… d-don't…"

Luan's breath hitched, but something cold flickered in the depths of his mind. Pathetic.

He moved towards the wounded man, his footsteps heavy on the ground. His body trembled with raw power, the corruption inside him thrumming like an untamed beast. As he approached, he could feel the man's terror, could see the pleading look in his eyes.

But Luan didn't care.

He raised his hand, his fingers stretching out as the dark energy seeped into the man's body. The warrior's eyes widened as he felt the first traces of decay creeping through his limbs, the burning sensation crawling beneath his skin.

"No! Please! I'll do anything! Spare me! Spare me!" The man's voice cracked, his body writhing in pain.

Luan's gaze hardened. The world had been nothing but cruelty and suffering. Was it so wrong to let them feel it too? To make them understand the agony he had endured?

The man's pleas turned into agonized screams, his skin beginning to rot away as his body was consumed from the inside out. His armor dissolved in seconds, his flesh disintegrating into nothingness. Luan stood over him, watching without mercy as the warrior's body crumbled into a heap of dust and bone.

The battlefield was silent now.

Luan staggered back, his body trembling violently, the power surging through him almost unbearable. His head ached, a sharp pain lancing through his skull. His vision blurred, the world around him spinning as the voices in his mind grew louder, more insistent.

More. Stronger. Take it all.

The hunger inside him roared, overwhelming his senses. His heart raced, and the weight of it all threatened to crush him. He clenched his fists, fighting to keep control, but it was slipping through his fingers like sand.

Then, a rough hand shook him, pulling him back to reality.

"Luan... wake up... please..."

Luan groaned, his eyelids fluttering open. The world around him was a blur—blood, decay, and the remnants of the battle. But there was something else. A scent. Familiar. Warm. Comforting.

Old Doc.

The old man's trembling hands gripped Luan's shoulders, shaking him weakly. Despite his broken body, Old Doc had managed to crawl over to him, his face etched with desperation and fear.

Luan blinked, his mind foggy, his thoughts scrambled. "Doc...?" His voice was hoarse, almost foreign to his own ears.

"Luan…" Old Doc choked out, his eyes filled with a mixture of relief and horror. "What… what have you become?"

Luan tried to speak, but no words came out. His throat felt dry, constricted. He followed Old Doc's gaze, looking down at his own hands.

His fingers were blackened, the corruption still lingering beneath his skin, a constant, gnawing presence.

He swallowed hard, his throat tight with emotion.

"…I don't know," Luan whispered, his voice barely audible. He looked up at the old man, the weight of the world pressing down on him. "I don't know what's happening to me."

Old Doc's hands trembled as he reached out, cupping Luan's face gently. "You've changed, child. This power—it's consuming you."

Luan's heart tightened at the sadness in the old man's voice, but he couldn't tear his gaze away from the darkness swirling within him. He tried to pull away, but Old Doc's grip was firm, unyielding.

"You can still fight it," Old Doc whispered, his voice filled with quiet resolve. "You can still find a way back."

Luan's chest ached with the weight of Old Doc's words. The battle, the corruption, the violence—it had all led him to this moment. Was there any hope for him? Or had he already crossed a line from which he could never return?

The old man's grip softened, and he sighed. "I'm sorry, Luan. But I cannot go with you. My time is short, and I've already seen too much. But you, child—you still have time. You can still make something of yourself."

Luan's breath hitched as he tried to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. "Doc… don't say that. Please…"

Old Doc smiled softly, though there was a sadness in his eyes. He reached up weakly, his frail fingers brushing Luan's cheek. "I love you, Luan. You've been my son in every way that matters."

The words pierced Luan's heart, but he couldn't speak. He couldn't find the strength to say anything.

"You are stronger than you know," Old Doc continued, his voice growing weaker. "Don't waste it. Don't let hate and anger control you. Live, Luan. Live for yourself."

His fingers trembled as he reached up, touching Luan's cheek. "Don't waste your life on revenge. Instead, learn. Grow. I know deep down, you want to be a cultivator. So go—become one. But not to destroy, not to hate. Become strong so that no one can ever hurt you again."

Luan's chest ached as he held back his sobs.

Old Doc exhaled shakily, his eyes beginning to lose focus. "I just want you to know… I love you, Luan. I always have, and I always will. So live a life you'll never regret."

A moment passed, his gaze flickering to the locket around Luan's neck. "I don't know much about your real family," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "But that locket… it was the only thing you had when I found you near Barren Lake. There was once a story… of a woman who fled from pirates, a mother who vanished along with her child. Maybe… just maybe, you are connected to her."

Luan's breath caught in his throat, but before he could speak, Old Doc's lips curled into one last, peaceful smile.

"Go, Luan… live the life you want. And whatever path you choose, make sure you never regret it."

Luan sat there, frozen, staring at the lifeless body of the only family he had ever known. The words echoed in his mind, but all he could do was feel the weight of his grief.

Tears blurred his vision, but as he stared down at Old Doc, something shifted deep inside him. 

Tears blurred his vision, but Old Doc's last words echoed in his mind.

"The world is your home."

Through the grief, through the pain, something settled deep in his heart.

With trembling hands, Luan closed Old Doc's eyes, then stood, the weight of his promise heavy on his soul.

He would live.

He would grow.

Not for Others.

Not for power.

But for himself.

The flames rose high, crackling hungrily as they devoured the bodies. The courtyard—his home—was drenched in firelight, shadows dancing against the walls of the hut that had sheltered him for as long as he could remember. Smoke billowed into the night sky, thick and suffocating, but Luan didn't look back. He couldn't.

His hands trembled, his heart a storm inside his chest. The scent of burning flesh and wood filled his lungs, mixing with the stench of death that still clung to his skin. He had wiped out those warriors, watched them rot and crumble beneath his touch. Now, he was destroying every last remnant of the life he had once known.

The memories clawed at his mind as he turned away.

Old Doc's voice, soft yet firm, guiding him through his first lessons in stitching a wound.

"Steady hands, Luan. A healer must be patient."

The flickering flames reflected in his eyes as he took his first step away from the only home he had ever known.

Old Doc laughing, his eyes crinkling at the corners as Luan pouted over a bitter medicinal brew.

"You'll thank me when you're not coughing up blood next winter, boy."

His feet pounded against the dirt path, carrying him forward, away, anywhere but here.

Old Doc's frail hands, brushing his cheek with the last of his strength.

"I love you, Luan. You've been my son in every way that matters."

Luan ran.

The city blurred past him, its streets drenched in shadows and distant echoes. He ran past silent alleyways, past the towering walls that had once made him feel safe. His breath came in ragged gasps, his body aching, but he didn't stop. The weight in his chest, the unbearable pressure, threatened to crush him. His vision wavered, but he kept moving.

The gates loomed ahead, barely guarded at this late hour. The sentries, distracted by the distant glow of fire rising from the city, barely noticed as he slipped through the cracks. Then he was beyond the walls, beyond the life he had once known. The world stretched before him—vast, dark, and endless.

And still, he ran.

The open fields gave way to forests, the thick canopy swallowing him whole. Twigs snapped beneath his feet, branches clawed at his arms, but he didn't slow. The memories wouldn't let him.

Old Doc, coughing into a bloodied rag, his body weakening with each passing day.

"I'm fine, child. Just a little tired."

A lie. A lie Luan had believed because he was too afraid of the truth.

The moment he had closed Old Doc's eyes for the last time, his body still warm, but his soul already gone.

The ache in his chest twisted into something unbearable. His legs burned, his lungs screamed for air, but he pushed forward, even as the world spun around him. The wind roared in his ears, drowning out the whispers of his past.

But he couldn't run forever.

At some point—whether minutes or hours or days later—his body finally betrayed him. His foot caught on something unseen, and he crashed to the ground, his body too weak to rise again. His fingers curled into the dirt, his breaths shallow and uneven.

Somewhere in the haze of exhaustion and grief, he felt hands on him, lifting him, voices murmuring in the distance. He tried to fight, to move, but darkness swallowed him whole before he could resist.

The first thing he noticed was warmth. A fire crackled nearby, its glow seeping through his closed eyelids. His body ached, but he wasn't in pain. He was… alive.

With a groggy inhale, Luan forced his eyes open. The world was blurry at first—wooden beams overhead, the dim glow of lanterns, the sound of hushed voices.

Then a shadow moved beside him. A figure leaned over, studying him with cautious eyes.

Luan's lips were dry, his voice hoarse as he forced out the only question that mattered.

"Who… are you?"