With stumbling, fractured steps, Han Wuang Shi pushed himself toward the north. Unknown to him, a figure trailed in his wake the masked savior who was none other than Gu Zong. He was running with every ounce of strength he possessed, his eyes shimmering with a thin veil of moisture. The forest held its breath, a heavy silence hanging beneath the deep shadows, only to be shattered by the frantic thud of Gu Zong’s footsteps.

  Stopping in a small clearing, he screamed with a force that made the veins in his neck bulge:

  "Wuang Shi!!!"

  His voice tore through the trees, but no answer came. There was no echo, no sign of life. Refusing to yield, Gu Zong lunged forward again, but his foot caught against a jagged stone. The momentum sent him sprawling, tumbling violently until he came to a rest beneath the dense shade of a towering tree.

  As he hit the earth, his patience his long-held silence shattered into a million pieces. He broke. The forest echoed with his agonizing wail. The primal scream that erupted from his constricted throat felt like the sudden eruption of a dormant volcano. Behind his closed eyelids, every memory flashed like a sin: the times he had called Wuang Shi a coward, every instance he had leveled a sword at him, and every humiliation he had heaped upon a soul that never deserved it.

  He struck the ground with his fist, screaming in raw pain before pulling himself up. But his spirit felt as though it had fallen into an abyss. In that moment of darkness, a fragment of his past surfaced a memory of his mother. They had been servants in the Lianxiao Clan, tending to the sacred lotus ponds.

  His mother’s voice whispered in his mind, soft yet haunting:

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  "Zao Yun, look at these lotuses. They never claim to be beautiful, yet everyone who sees them is lost in their grace. Remember, Zao Yun... whatever happens, happens for a reason. And always... always be sympathetic toward others. For sympathy is the language of love. Just as it is between you and me... you and Jun Wan... and your brother who is to come."

  These words, once as tender as silk, now felt like searing iron. Suddenly, the rustle of a footstep behind him made him stiffen. He gripped his sword, his eyes still failing to hide his tears. But then, a voice reached his ears:

  "Yun!!"

  The moment the name touched him, Gu Zong’s body went limp. His muscles gave way, and his sword clattered to the forest floor. Tears fell in rapid succession, his face flushing a deep crimson as he struggled to breathe through his silent sobs. Using the last of his strength, he spoke in a voice so faint it barely reached Wuang Shi’s ears:

  "I cannot forgive him, Wuang. I can never forgive Han Juan Hao."

  A heavy, solemn peace settled over them. Gu Zong sat with his back against the rough bark of a tree, the cold mountain breeze drifting over them. Beside him, Han Wuang Shi sat in absolute stillness. He was draped in Gu Zong’s outer robes, his gaze lowered. Though his fresh wounds throbbed with a searing intensity, his eyes held a strange, newfound flicker of peace.

  Gathering his courage, Gu Zong turned his head slightly, his voice dissolving into the quiet air. "You knew. You knew everything that happened that day. Why did you never tell me, Wuang? If I hadn't overheard Han Juan Hao today, this cruelty would have continued in silence. You are a Prince, Wuang. You should fight... the way you used to. With me... with the whole clan. Why did you pull back?"

  The weight of the question kept Wuang Shi’s head bowed. He swallowed the lump of emotion rising in his throat. When he finally spoke, the words shattered what was left of Gu Zong’s heart.

  "Who would I have fought for? Who was truly mine? Many called me their own, but there was no one I could truly call my own. Tell me, Yun... what is there to fight for when you have nothing left to save?"

  As the words left his lips, the dam finally broke. Streams of tears carved paths down Wuang Shi’s calm face. Yet, his expression remained as unmoving as a stone in the rain letting the droplets fall, yet remaining unchanged by the storm.