After a while, Han Zhennan finally caught sight of his family, but his expression twisted the moment he did. He felt a presence rapidly approaching—a high-stage Rank 2 cultivator. His gaze darkened, but he didn't care. He would cut down anyone for his family.
Upon reaching them, he immediately checked for injuries. Han Yi, crying, rushed into his embrace. He smiled at her warmly, but then a thought struck him—
"Wh-where's Han Yu?"
His wife avoided his gaze, her body trembling.
"I said where's Han Yu?!" he roared.
Xue Lian flinched, tears streaming down her face. "I… I couldn't save him. W-while I was protecting them, a building collapsed on us. I managed to pick up Han Yi, but I couldn't reach Han Yu in time… I was attacked again, and before I could try to save him, I saw him through a gap—he was bloodied, unmoving. I knew he was dead. Then I sensed a Rank 2 presence closing in on us. If I hadn't run, we all would have died."
She sobbed as she spoke, but there was one thing she didn't say.
When she saw Han Yu through that gap, he hadn't been dead. Injured, bloodied—yes. But alive.
She couldn't bear to tell them the truth. That in the end, she had made a choice. She had abandoned her son to save herself and her daughter.
The truth was even crueler.
Xue Lian fought with her sword in her right hand. Han Yu had been to her left, where her unoccupied hand was. Han Yi had been to her right, where her sword was.
And yet—without hesitation, her hand had skipped the closest child. She didn't even try to reach for Han Yu. Instead, she broke her stance, turned her body, and grabbed Han Yi, despite the clear danger of exposing herself to an attack.
At that moment, she hadn't cared about herself. She hadn't cared about Han Yu.
Only Han Yi.
Her instincts had decided before she even realized it. She had endangered herself to save one child and abandoned the other without a second thought.
The single word left Han Zhennan's lips like a whisper of disbelief.
"What?"
His eyes widened, his grip loosened on his sword. He stood frozen, unable to process the weight of what he had just heard.
The shadow of death had already reached them.
"H-How..."
He refused to believe it. His son—dead? No. It wasn't possible. It couldn't be.
Sadness, fury, and regret crashed down on him all at once. The things he had said to Han Yu, the way he had pushed him aside, denied him his rightful place, called him selfish, made him feel like an outcast—all because of his talent. He had been so blind.
But now—now it was too late.
He would never get the chance to make things right. Never be able to take back the words, the scorn, the rejection.
His mind desperately sought escape, a way to deny this reality. And when his gaze landed on Xue Lian, it latched onto the nearest thing to blame.
But there was no time.
The shadow looming over them was already preparing an attack, an execution blow that would wipe them from existence.
Han Zhennan's grief turned into sheer, unrestrained wrath.
"RANK 2 MID-TIER BATTLE SKILL: DEVASTATING STORM!"
His roar shook the heavens.
As if answering his fury, a storm of lightning erupted above, swirling with unstoppable might. In a flash, he moved.
"DIEEEEE!"
A strike that could tear a town apart, fueled by the wrath of a father who had just lost his son.
Lu Zhenhai, who had already finished off the Glacier Tyrant, recognized the danger instantly. As a ranged attacker, he had been the beast's worst possible matchup—fast, elusive, and deadly. But now, what he saw in Han Zhennan's eyes was far worse than any beast.
This town was about to be turned to ashes.
A Rank 2 battle was already devastating. But a battle driven by grief-fueled vengeance?
It would leave nothing behind.
Without hesitation, Lu Zhenhai grabbed Xue Lian and her children and vanished from the battlefield.
He had to get them to safety.
Because if they stayed even a moment longer.
They would die just from the aftershocks of this fight.
The battlefield had become a storm-torn hellscape.
Lightning and fire clashed.
Han Zhennan's storm raged, lightning splitting the sky, carving deep scars into the earth. The town had already been reduced to rubble—now, the very land itself was reshaping under their battle.
His opponent, wreathed in searing flames, burned everything in his path. The air distorted with heat, fire consuming even the ashes left in their wake.
Yet even in his fury, Han Zhennan did not falter. His rage sharpened him.
Every strike was faster, heavier—deadlier.
Each time their blades met, lightning and fire exploded outward, leveling the ruins further, sending shockwaves across the land. Their fight had long since moved beyond the town, carving a path of destruction into the forest beyond.
Han Zhennan landed on the ground, his torn robes fluttering from the storm still crackling around him. Muscles tensed, veins bulging, his body was pushed to its limits, yet his fury remained boundless.
His opponent stood opposite him, breathing heavily, flames still flickering across his body.
Han Zhennan's grip tightened around his sword.
His voice was cold, final.
"RANK 2 HIGH-TIER BATTLE SKILL: EARTH-SUNDERING TALON!"
Lightning erupted.
It surged over his body, over his blade, forming the phantom of a massive hawk.
The air trembled under its presence.
Its eyes—filled with nothing but the will to annihilate.
And then—he struck.
The world froze.
For an instant, there was silence.
And then—destruction.
The forest around them was erased.
Lightning tore through the land, splitting trees and rock alike. Fire howled, only to be consumed, devoured by the storm.
A final boom echoed as the battle ended.
And then, all was still.
Han Zhennan was on his knees, panting.
His gaze was hollow. Empty.
Before him, his opponent lay—split in half.
Lifeless.
The battlefield around him was a wasteland of ruin, scorched earth and shattered stone stretching as far as the eye could see. The storm had not yet faded. Lightning still crackled around him, dancing over his bloodstained blade as if awaiting his command.
And then, he saw them.
His family. His sworn brother. Running toward him. Alive.
"Father, are you okay?" Han Lei's voice trembled, his eyes wide with desperation.
Han Zhennan turned to him, his gaze softening for the briefest moment. Then, his expression steeled. There was no time.
"I feel more enemies coming," he said, his voice heavy with finality. "We will not be able to escape if we all flee together."
Han Lei's breath caught.
No.
"Take this." Han Zhennan placed an amulet in his son's palm, pressing it into his fingers before slipping his ring into his other hand. "Keep them with you."
His daughter sobbed, clutching onto his torn robes, her small hands shaking as if holding on would make him stay. His wife followed, tears flowing silently, unable to meet his eyes.
"Leave now."
His voice cut through the air like a sword.
"From this moment, I appoint Han Lei as the head of the Han family. I will accept no other word on this matter."
Han Lei's knees nearly buckled. No. No. No.
He couldn't bear to see this.
To see his father, the man he idolized—the man he saw as an unshakable mountain—on his knees, giving his final orders.
His mother and sister clung to Han Zhennan, sobbing, unwilling to let go. His own eyes burned with unshed tears, his chest aching with a pain he had never known before.
And then, Han Zhennan turned to his sworn brother.
"Lu, I am certain I can trust you with my family."
Lu Zhenhai met his gaze, his jaw tightening, his own sorrow barely contained.
"Do not worry, brother." His voice was hoarse. "I will take them to safety."
Han Zhennan smiled.
Not the smile of a man who had given up.
But the smile of a man who trusted.
"I know you will."
Then, he turned back to Han Lei.
"Remember, Han Lei—you are my son, and my disciple."
He placed a firm hand on his son's shoulder.
"Take the amulet. Take back what is ours. I truly believe you will accomplish it."
Han Lei broke.
"Father..." His voice was barely a whisper, choked with grief, his tears unstoppable.
Han Zhennan embraced him one last time. A final, unshakable warmth that Han Lei knew would never come again.
"Protect our family. Continue our legacy, son."
Han Lei gripped his father as tightly as he could, as if refusing to let him go would change fate. As if holding on harder would somehow keep him here.
But fate was cruel.
Han Zhennan pulled away.
And then, his gaze shifted—one last time—to Xue Lian.
"Do not make the same mistake we made with Han Yu."
Xue Lian froze.
His voice cracked, his grief laid bare.
"We have already lost one son. Do not lose another."
She couldn't speak. She couldn't breathe. He knew.
He knew.
She had never expected forgiveness—not from him, not from herself—but he still asked her to change. To not make Han Lei and Han Yi bear the weight of her sins.
Her hands trembled. Her knees felt weak. She wanted to collapse, to scream, to beg for a chance to undo it all.
But there was no time.
"Y-Yes... I will not..."
She didn't deserve to speak.
Didn't deserve to make a promise.
But she still said it, voice laced with pain, shame, and the weight of her own self-loathing.
Han Zhennan turned away.
"Now go!"
His final command as the head of the Han family.
Lu Zhenhai gritted his teeth, lifting Han Lei, forcing him to move even as the boy screamed in agony, reaching for a father he would never see again.
"No—No! FATHER!"
Tears flowed freely, unstoppable rivers as the group was pulled away, disappearing into the distance.
But before he left, Lu Zhenhai stopped.
He turned back, one last time.
"Goodbye, brother."
His voice was thick with emotion.
"If I lived a hundred lives, I would choose you every time—my brother, my only true friend. No matter what, you are the one I will always trust."
For the briefest moment, they smiled at each other.
And then, he was gone.
Han Zhennan turned forward.
The storm still raged. His sword was heavy in his grip. Lightning coiled around his body, his fury made manifest.
And from the distance—two figures emerged.
Wreathed in flames.
Waiting to strike.
Han Zhennan felt no fear.
Only hunger. For vengeance.
His grip on his sword tightened.
His eyes burned.
And then, softly—so softly that even the storm could barely hear—he spoke.
"I am sorry, Han Yu."
"For everything I did to you."
"For everything I failed to do."
A single tear slid down his cheek.
His face never wavered.
He could not bring Han Yu back.
But he could avenge him.
"Please forgive me."
The lightning roared in answer.
And then—he charged.