The battle raged on in the forest, the clash of weapons and roaring of techniques tearing through the night.
But beneath the ruins of the shattered town, a different struggle had ended.
Han Yu gasped for breath, his body aching as he dragged himself from the wreckage. Dust coated his skin, blood matted his hair, and every movement sent sharp pain through his limbs.
But he was alive.
His fingers trembled as he pushed away the last of the debris, forcing himself to stand. Around him, the town that had once been his home lay in ruins—a place that had caged him, broken him, and discarded him like filth.
And now, it was nothing but rubble.
Han Yu let out a slow, shaky breath, lifting his gaze toward the distant battle. The forest trembled under the force of combat, explosions of qi illuminating the darkened sky.
He sneered.
"I hope they kill you, Han Zhennan. You and your wretched family."
His voice was low, bitter, filled with years of resentment that no amount of ruin could erase. But then, his lips curled into a cold, hollow smirk.
"And yet... a part of me hopes you survive."
His fingers curled into fists, nails digging into his palms.
"So that when I return... I can end you myself."
He turned away from the battle, away from the past.
The ruins around him held no warmth, no comfort—only opportunity.
He moved through the wreckage with sharp, calculating eyes. "No one is here. If I'm on my own, then I need wealth. Strength. A foundation to stand on."
And in the chaos, he could take what he needed.
A faint gust of wind carried the scent of fire and blood, and Han Yu stopped.
He turned his gaze to the ruins of what had once been his home. The broken walls. The shattered door. The very place where his tears had fallen, where his screams had echoed unheard.
Memories threatened to crawl up his throat, but he crushed them beneath his will.
"Those tears were the last I will ever shed."
His voice was steady.
"Those screams for help—the last I will ever cry."
He exhaled slowly, his eyes cold, unreadable.
"The begging. The pleading for what should have been mine—for what you said I deserved—"
His fingers brushed against his bruised wrist, and his expression darkened.
"That was the last time."
His breathing steadied.
His resolve hardened.
"From now on, if I want something—"
His lips curled into a sharp, hungry grin.
"—I will take it."
And that amulet…
He would find it.
And it would be his.
Han Yu wasted no time.
His body ached, but he pushed forward, moving swiftly through the ruined institute. The once-proud building lay in shambles—walls caved in, scorch marks seared into the ground, bodies scattered among the debris.
"I won't find any battle skills here."
He knew Han Zhennan kept them in his spatial ring, far out of reach. There was no grand treasury to loot, no hidden wealth left behind—most valuables had either been taken or destroyed.
But the dead…
Their bodies still held something to be taken.
Han Yu's gaze swept over the corpses, his movements cold and efficient. Blood seeped into the broken stone, the air thick with the scent of death, but he felt nothing. No pity, no hesitation.
"I need to be quick."
The battle in the distance raged on, but it wouldn't last forever. No matter who won, either side would be his enemy.
And he refused to rely on Han Zhennan.
Never again.
With that thought, Han Yu crouched beside the nearest corpse, fingers already reaching for whatever he could take.
Han Yu moved quickly, shoving anything of value into his pouch—paintings, books, manuals, weapons.
It didn't matter what they were. If they could be sold, they were his.
The ruined halls of the institute stretched before him, once grand but now little more than shattered stone and broken memories. But he didn't care. There was no nostalgia, no regret.
This place had never truly been his home.
At last, he reached what used to be Han Zhennan's room—hidden deep at the bottom of the building.
The air was thick with dust and the lingering scent of scorched wood. The entrance had partially collapsed, but a narrow gap remained, just wide enough for him to slip through.
"If there's anything left… this is where I'll find it."
Steeling himself, Han Yu stepped inside.
Han Yu moved swiftly, taking everything he could—clothes, weapons, books—anything that could be sold or used.
He swept through the ruined remnants of Han Zhennan's room, his hands steady, his heart cold. This wasn't looting. This was survival.
Then, his eyes caught something buried under dust on a broken desk—the very one that had belonged to his father.
A damaged map.
His fingers brushed over its worn surface, shaking off the dust. Faded ink. Marked locations. But part of it was torn, some details lost.
"Now what could this be?"
Han Yu's gaze flickered with curiosity and suspicion.
Why was something like this left behind?
Han Zhennan had never been careless with valuable things. Had he been interrupted?
The thought made Han Yu pause.
"From the looks of it, he was attacked while reading it, then forced to fight… and after finishing his attackers off, he must have gone to save his family."
He stared at the map for a moment longer, then smirked.
"I'll just have to make sure it's not fake… and be careful in the future."
Without wasting another second, Han Yu turned and left the town.
The ruins stretched behind him, silent and broken, a graveyard of memories he had long since abandoned. He had already taken healing pills to mend his wounds, and now, he moved fast—in the opposite direction of the battle.
Back at the battlefield, Han Zhennan was faltering.
His breath came in ragged gasps, his Qi running low, his body failing. He had burned through too much power, wielding battle skills beyond his cultivation level, pushing himself past his limits to slaughter his enemies.
But they kept coming.
The flames surrounding them burned brighter, his opponents relentless. He could not win.
But he could still decide how this would end.
A storm of lightning crackled around him, splitting the sky with a deafening roar. His hands gripped his sword tightly, muscles trembling—not with fear, but with unyielding defiance.
"I WILL NOT DIE WITHOUT TAKING YOU BASTARDS WITH ME!"
His voice thundered like the storm itself, shaking the heavens. His figure flickered, vanishing in an instant—
—and reappeared in the heart of his enemies.
Lightning howled.
Fire surged.
And then—his voice lowered, barely above a whisper, carrying the weight of a lifetime.
"Han Yi… Han Lei… Xue Lian… Lu Zhenhai… please, survive."
He could see them in his mind. Han Lei, the son he had just entrusted with the future. Han Yi, his daughter—his heart. His wife, Xue Lian, the woman he had once loved.
And Lu Zhenhai. His sworn brother, the only man he had ever truly trusted.
"Han Lei… I trust you to bring our family back to its former glory. To reclaim what is rightfully ours."
Tears welled in his eyes, but his face remained unshaken.
And then, one last name.
"As for you… Han Yu."
His chest tightened.
"My son… I am truly sorry."
His voice cracked, the only sign of his pain.
"For planting dreams and hopes in your heart… only to deny you what I had promised. For casting you aside. For failing to protect you."
A single tear fell.
And then—lightning erupted.
The explosion tore through the battlefield, swallowing everything in a blinding storm of destruction.
A force vast enough to erase a small town in an instant.
For Han Zhennan, there was no more regret.
Only vengeance.
Only annihilation.
Only the end.
Han Yu was already running, his breath sharp in the frigid air, when the explosion erupted behind him.
A deafening roar.
A shockwave so intense it made the ground beneath him tremble.
His instincts screamed.
He didn't dare look back—he didn't need to. The sheer force of the blast sent a chill racing down his spine, something colder than the winter wind biting at his skin.
"What kind of attack was that?"
His hands clenched, his pulse pounding in his ears.
"I need to get the hell out of this place."
He pushed forward, legs moving faster, lungs burning with the cold air. He refused to stop, refused to turn back—not even for a second.
Far behind him, where Han Zhennan had once stood, there was nothing left.
Only a crater.
The battlefield had been erased. His enemies—ash, scattered in the winds. The only thing that remained was the fading crackle of lightning, flickering one last time before vanishing into the void—a final farewell to Han Zhennan.
Then, silence.