The Tragic Night

The tranquility of Verdant Grove had always been a fragile one, a calm in the eye of a storm that the villagers could neither see nor understand. That night, as the moon hung high in the sky, illuminating the village with its soft, silvery glow, everything seemed peaceful. But deep in the hearts of those who understood the cultivation world, there was always an underlying tension—a fear that the chaos of powerful sects and rival clans would one day find its way into their lives.

Han Tianlong lay awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling. The events of the day—the bird, the strange warmth in his chest—kept replaying in his mind. He had felt something profound stir within him, but he had no idea what it was or how to control it. All he knew was that it was tied to the world of cultivation, a world his grandmother had warned him about many times.

"Stay away from those who cultivate," she had often told him. "Their world is full of power struggles and dangers beyond your imagination. It's not a place for ordinary folk like us."

But after what happened in the forest, Han Tianlong wasn't sure if he could remain ordinary anymore.

Just as sleep was beginning to overtake him, a loud crash shattered the stillness of the night. He bolted upright, his heart racing. The sound came from the direction of the village square, followed by shouts and the unmistakable clashing of steel.

Tianlong rushed to the window, pulling aside the worn cloth curtain. His eyes widened in horror at the sight before him. In the distance, the village was ablaze, flames licking the night sky as figures clad in dark robes moved swiftly through the streets, their weapons cutting down anyone in their path. It was an attack—an invasion by cultivators.

His heart pounded in his chest as the reality sank in. The chaos of the cultivation world had come to Verdant Grove.

Without thinking, Tianlong jumped from his bed and hurried to the door. His father, Han Shou, was already outside, his sword in hand, face grim. "Tianlong, stay inside!" his father said. "Do not come out under any circumstances!"

"But—"

"No! This is not a fight for you. Stay with your grandmother. I'll come back for you when it's safe."

Before Tianlong could protest, his father disappeared into the night, rushing toward the heart of the village where the battle raged. The sounds of clashing swords, screams, and explosions filled the air. The acrid scent of smoke and blood wafted through the village as cultivators from two rival sects tore through the streets, locked in deadly combat.

Tianlong's heart ached with fear, but more than that, there was something else—an anger he could barely contain. These cultivators, who wielded such power, didn't care for the lives of ordinary people. His village was nothing more than collateral damage in their endless battles for supremacy.

Suddenly, a soft hand touched his shoulder. He turned to see his grandmother, Old Madam Han, standing behind him, her face calm but serious.

"Come, child," she said in a low voice. "We must leave the house and find a place to hide. This village will not survive the night."

"But Father—"

"Your father is strong, but his strength alone won't stop this. Trust me, Tianlong, we must move quickly."

Despite the terror gnawing at his insides, Tianlong nodded. He followed his grandmother as she led him out the back door, away from the streets and deeper into the forest that bordered their home. The sound of the fighting grew fainter as they moved further into the dense foliage, but the roar of flames was a constant reminder that their home was being destroyed.

After what felt like an eternity, they reached a small clearing, hidden deep within the forest. Tianlong's grandmother stopped, her breathing labored from the strain of running.

"We should be safe here for a while," she said, lowering herself onto a nearby rock.

Tianlong knelt beside her, his thoughts swirling. "Grandmother, what's happening? Who are those people?"

"They are cultivators," she replied, her voice tinged with sadness. "This is the way of their world—endless power struggles, battles for resources and territory. They think nothing of the lives of ordinary folk. This village... it was doomed the moment their fight crossed into our path."

Tianlong clenched his fists. He had heard stories about cultivators and their world, but he had never imagined the devastation they could cause. His peaceful life in the village had shattered in an instant, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"Is there really no way to fight back?" he asked, his voice trembling with frustration.

Old Madam Han looked at him with eyes that held a deep understanding. "The world is vast, Tianlong, and full of mysteries beyond your comprehension. There are ways to protect oneself, to grow stronger. But it comes with a price. Power always does."

As she spoke, Tianlong noticed something in her eyes—an old, forgotten fire, as if she had once known the truth about the world beyond their village. But before he could ask her more, the sounds of footsteps approaching through the forest froze them both in place.

Tianlong's heart skipped a beat as two figures emerged from the trees. One was a man clad in dark robes, his face twisted into a sneer. The other was a woman in crimson armor, her sword dripping with blood. Both were cultivators, their powerful auras radiating danger.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" the man said with a cruel grin. "A couple of villagers trying to escape. How quaint."

Old Madam Han stepped in front of Tianlong, her frail body shielding him from the cultivators. "Leave us be," she said in a calm but firm voice. "We are of no concern to you."

The woman laughed, her voice cold and mocking. "Oh, but you are. You see, we've been tasked with wiping out every last witness in this village. Can't have word spreading, after all."

Tianlong's heart raced as fear threatened to overwhelm him. He wanted to fight, to defend his grandmother, but he knew there was no way he could stand against cultivators of this level. They were too powerful, too fast.

Just as the man raised his hand, preparing to strike, a sudden burst of energy erupted from Old Madam Han. Tianlong's eyes widened in shock as a powerful aura surrounded her, one that he had never felt before. It was an aura of a cultivator, but how? His grandmother had never spoken of such power.

The man stepped back, eyes wide with surprise. "You... you're a cultivator?"

"Leave now," Old Madam Han said, her voice cold and authoritative. "Or you will regret it."

For a brief moment, the two cultivators hesitated. But then the woman grinned. "You're old, and that power of yours is weak. We've fought stronger opponents than you."

In an instant, the man and the woman charged at them, their swords flashing in the moonlight. But just before they could reach them, a massive explosion rocked the village behind them. The ground trembled as a shockwave of energy rippled through the forest, throwing everyone off their feet.

As Tianlong lay on the ground, dazed and confused, his grandmother grabbed his hand and whispered urgently, "We must go. Now!"