Chapter 3: To Be Stronger

After pushing through the final veil of mist between the trees, Yanzhi finally stood before the massive gates of the Langyun Clan. The evening sun dipped behind the hills, painting the sky in a bleak crimson hue.

But what awaited him was far from what he expected.

The clan gates were wide open—yet eerily silent. No guards welcomed him. No familiar sounds of daily activity.

Yanzhi froze.

Two guards lay crumpled at the gate—bloody, battered, barely breathing.

"Senior Brother Lei…?" His voice trembled, disbelief surging through him.

He rushed forward, shaking their shoulders. "Wake up! Please—tell me what happened!"

But their eyes were lifeless. Silence pressed down like a shroud.

Swallowing hard, Yanzhi reached out and touched the cold hand of one guard. His chest tightened.

Why… why did this happen? What… happened to our clan?

No answers came.

With trembling steps, he passed through the ruined gates. Everything felt wrong—too still, too broken. The Langyun Clan, once proud and unshakable, now lay in ruin. Crumbled stone pillars. Shattered walls. Smoke still curled from debris, thick with the scent of blood and dust.

He frowned, trying to remember the last time he'd heard laughter here… or footsteps. Now, there was only emptiness.

He moved slowly toward the central courtyard, where elders and clan members would usually gather.

Then a voice echoed in his mind again.

"Did your clan have enemies? The kind who'd dare strike this deep?"

Yanzhi paused. "No… We've never been part of any major conflict. The clan's always lived in peace…"

His gaze swept the area.

"Then who would do this?"

"If this isn't a war… then they came to erase you. Completely."

Yanzhi shook his head. "But why kill everyone…?"

"Everyone… except you."

He stopped at the threshold of the main hall. The setting sun pierced through cracks in the ruins, casting light on a scene that froze his blood.

Bodies.

Scattered across the floor—elders, disciples, people he saw every day. Now cold. Lifeless.

"No…" he whispered.

He staggered inside. His knees weak. His eyes scanned the room, desperate to find even one soul still breathing.

But all he found were wounds—deep, precise. Blood dried. Silence screamed.

No… this can't be real…

His breath came in gasps. Hands shaking, he moved among the corpses, staring at faces he'd known for years.

Then his knees buckled. He collapsed to the cold floor, his body trembling.

But in the corner of the hall—movement.

His eyes widened. Someone was still alive.

"Elder Yu?"

He crawled over, dragging himself through blood. His hand pressed against a warm shoulder—still breathing.

"Elder? It's me—Yanzhi!" His voice cracked as he gently tapped the elder's wounded face.

Elder Yu's eyelids fluttered open. His gaze was hazy, breath shallow. Blood stained his lips—but there was still life.

"…Yanzhi…" The voice was faint, almost lost. "You… survived…"

Yanzhi gripped his hand. "I… I don't know what happened. Who did this? Who—"

Before Elder Yu could answer, the spirit within Yanzhi spoke again—quiet but sharp, as if it already knew the truth.

"These wounds… they're not random."

"Clean slashes… deep… pulled downward. This isn't the work of bandits."

Yanzhi glanced at the elder's injuries—and saw it clearly now. The cuts were precise. Deliberate. Not the chaos of raiders, but the craft of a trained killer.

"They knew what they were doing. This was a professional—a master from a high-level martial sect."

Yanzhi bit his lip, emotions surging again. "Do we… have enemies like that?"

Suddenly, Elder Yu gripped his hand tighter—summoning the last of his strength.

"They… weren't after us…" the elder rasped. "They were looking… for something… something we never had…"

Yanzhi stared. "What do you mean?"

"Something hidden… within our midst…"

Elder Yu's breathing grew shallow. "We… never knew… who had it…"

His eyes began to close. "They thought… we were hiding it…"

Silence.

Then the spirit's voice returned—quiet, cold.

"If what they sought was truly hidden within your clan… and no one knew who held it…"

"Then perhaps it was something even they didn't realize… they were protecting."

Yanzhi looked at the bodies around him, heart racing.

"And now… you may be the only one left… holding the key to it all."

He clenched his fists, breath shaking.

The spirit said no more. Just silence—knowing, waiting.

A soft breeze swept through the ruined hall, carrying the scent of death.

Yanzhi's footsteps were slow as he walked outside. His gaze swept across the courtyard—now a graveyard.

They used to smile at him. Greet him each morning. Call out his name during training. Now… they said nothing.

Dead. Cold. Still.

He swallowed hard, and began to move.

One by one, he lifted the bodies. Dragged them gently. Laid them beneath the great tree by the training grounds. Some still wore their robes. Others never reached their weapons.

They hadn't stood a chance.

His hands shook, but he didn't stop.

"I'm sorry… I was too late…"

"If I had arrived sooner, maybe…"

The words were only for himself—but each one felt heavier than the last.

He dug graves with a small gardening spade—meant for tending herbs. There were no tools. No help.

Each mound of dirt buried a memory.

And when he came to the children—those who once ran laughing through the yard—his tears finally broke free. His sobs shook his chest, mixing with sweat and dust.

"I'm sorry… forgive me…"

He whispered their names, one by one.

"Yu Lan… Yu Fei… little Jun… I'm sorry…"

The sky darkened as he scattered the final handful of soil. His clothes were stained with blood and earth. But he stood—alone—among the simple graves.

The spirit's voice returned, now no more than a whisper.

"Not everyone can still stand… after seeing what you saw today."

Yanzhi didn't reply.

He gazed at the fading sky, eyes burning. But behind the pain and tears… something had begun to take root.

Not hatred. Not vengeance.

But resolve.

Days passed since he buried his clan.

Yanzhi no longer knew where to go. The nearby villages were too small. And he—too weak to face an enemy he didn't even know.

But one thing was certain:

He couldn't stay still.

Something inside him didn't demand strength.

It simply knew he had to become stronger.

Amidst his confusion and grief, word reached him. One of the great sects in the northern region, the Tianhan Sect, was opening its doors for new disciples.

This is your chance, the voice inside him whispered.

You need a place to grow. And there… you can begin.

Yanzhi didn't hesitate. With only a small supply of provisions, he left behind the ruins of the place he once called home.

He stood at the broken gate of the clan, staring at the courtyard he used to cross so often with complaints lingering in his heart.

This place always held me back. Always made things harder.

They kept making me repeat techniques, kept comparing me to the other disciples, kept...

His voice broke in his throat.

There was no one left to order him around, no one to compare him to others, no one to mock him.

No one left to prove anything to.

Gone were the noisy senior disciples who used to tease him. Gone were the elders' sharp glares that always criticized his every move.

No one remained.

He trembled. I didn't even get the chance to say thank you...

The voice in his mind stayed firm, but his feet refused to move just yet.

He glanced at the training hall where he used to get scolded for failing the basics. Then at the small pavilion in the corner where he and his junior brothers used to laugh, even though those moments often ended in silly arguments.

Still, this was my home.

His fists clenched tightly at his sides. He told himself not to look back anymore. But deep inside, he memorized every last detail of this place.

Because somehow, it felt like this might be goodbye forever.

---

The journey ahead wasn't easy.

Some nights, he slept in the woods. Sometimes, he had to outrun wild beasts. Other times, bandits came after him. But whenever he felt like giving up, that voice inside him, the spirit that now dwelled within, guided his steps.

Not yet. You can't fall here.

But there were certain nights...

Nights quieter than usual.

Nights when the scent of blood and killing intent hung thicker than the wind.

And on one such night, when he thought he could rest under the shade of an old tree, danger arrived without warning.

The quiet forest turned into a miniature hell when a group of bandits emerged from the darkness. Yanzhi, exhausted, barely reacted when an arrow flew straight at him.

But before it hit, his body moved on its own, fast and precise. In an instant, he had taken cover behind a tree, panting heavily as a familiar voice echoed in his head.

If you keep being this careless, you'll die before even reaching the sect.

Yanzhi gritted his teeth. So now you decide to help?

I'm just tired of watching you flop around like a crippled insect.

Suddenly, his eyes burned red. His breath grew heavy. Crimson flames crept along his fingers, flickering as if alive.

Now move.

His body surged forward. Each step was light but lethal. Fire wrapped around his hands as he charged out from behind the tree. The first bandit didn't even have time to scream before his body was engulfed in fire.

The others panicked. Three of them attacked together, but Yanzhi leapt into the air and slammed his palm into the ground. A wave of flame burst forth, knocking them down with a searing heat.

See that? Even wild beasts are smarter than this.

Can you stop acting so smug for once? Yanzhi grumbled in his thoughts.

But he still didn't have control.

One of the bandits tried to escape.

But the fire—it moved like a living serpent, shooting forward and coiling around the man's body. His scream echoed through the trees.

Pathetic. Slow. Stupid. At this rate, we'll never reach the sect.

Enough. Yanzhi shouted from within. His body trembled.

With the last of his strength, he pulled his awareness back.

The flames began to fade.

He collapsed to his knees, panting hard. Smoke rose from his skin, mixing with sweat.

One final bandit ran off into the darkness.

Don't just hijack my body like that. This body is mine, not yours.

A weak body like this? Don't make me laugh.

If you're so powerful, why don't you fight them with your own body?

Tch. If I could, I would've done it long ago, idiot.

Silence returned.

But beneath the bickering, one thing remained clear.

Neither of them had given up.

And even if they clashed... they were quietly protecting each other.