The sun was at its peak when Li Yuan continued his slaughter. Of the forty Drakemoor soldiers remaining after his terrifying shout, that number continued to dwindle at a horrifying rate.
The eyes of the abyss no longer saw the soldiers as men. They were merely obstacles to be removed, threats to be eliminated, a source of suffering for his family that had to be destroyed down to its roots.
A young soldier tried to flee, his legs stumbling toward the edge of the village. Li Yuan chased him with a movement that flowed like a shadow of death. In three steps, he had caught up. His hand grabbed the soldier's head from behind and twisted it with a quick and brutal motion. The sound of a snapping neck bone echoed in the hot midday air.
Forty-four.
Thomas Aldrich, still leaning against a gravestone, looked at Li Yuan with eyes that were starting to blur from blood loss. "Yuan," he whispered in a voice that was barely audible. "My boy... Margaret... protect them."
"They are safe," Li Yuan replied without turning, his voice flat and empty. "After I kill all these parasites."
David Miller tried to stand up with his one remaining intact arm, but his body was no longer strong enough. "Li Yuan," he called out the original name that he somehow knew. "You've... you've changed."
Li Yuan stopped for a moment, turning to the young man he had come to see as a younger brother. "I have become what this world needs me to be."
"No," David shook his head weakly, blood flowing from the corner of his mouth. "You've become like them."
Like them. The words pierced something within Li Yuan, but he pushed them away. There was no time for doubt. There was no room for weakness.
Two Drakemoor soldiers tried to attack him from two sides, coordinating with a desperate effort. Li Yuan spun on the spot, one hand grabbing the first soldier's throat and squeezing until the cartilage crushed. The other hand caught the second soldier's sword and broke it, then plunged the metal shard into the soldier's eye.
Forty-five. Forty-six.
Old Pete, still standing despite his swaying body, looked at Li Yuan with eyes full of concern. "Young man," he said in a trembling voice, "remember who you are. Don't let the anger take over completely."
"Anger is the only thing left," Li Yuan replied as he stepped toward a group of soldiers trying to form a defensive formation. "Love is no longer enough. Kindness is useless. Only anger can protect what remains."
In his Zhenjing, the Understanding of Emotion vibrated with an almost unbearable intensity. He felt every nuance of feeling from this battlefield—the fear gnawing at the soldiers, the despair crushing the hearts of the Millbrook men, the blood-chilling horror of the families in hiding.
But the strongest of all was his own emotion—an anger that had grown into something darker, deeper. No longer anger born from love, but anger born from a pain so profound that it transformed love itself into hatred.
Understanding of Rage, he felt the strengthening vibration within him, you are starting to show your true face.
Five soldiers attacked him at once, desperate in their last effort. Li Yuan didn't dodge. He let their swords hit his body—one grazing his shoulder, another stabbing his abdomen—but the wounds didn't stop him.
His hands moved like a wild beast's claws. One motion crushed the skull of the soldier to his left. Another motion ripped out the throat of the soldier to his right. His foot kicked the third soldier's knee until it broke and protruded from the skin.
Forty-seven. Forty-eight. Forty-nine.
The last two soldiers from that group retreated with eyes full of terror. One of them—a young man who was probably the same age as David Miller—fell to his knees.
"Please," he begged with tears streaming down his cheeks. "I have a family. A little child. A pregnant wife."
Li Yuan stood in front of him, the blood of his enemies and his own blood dripping from his body. The eyes of the abyss stared at the pleading young man with something... empty.
"A family?" Li Yuan laughed, a bitter and cold sound. "You came here to kill my family. To burn their homes. To make little children into slaves."
He knelt in front of the young soldier, his face so close that the young man could feel Li Yuan's warm breath.
"You think your tears will change anything?"
"Please," the soldier sobbed. "I was only following orders. I didn't want to—"
His voice was cut off when Li Yuan's hand plunged into his chest, his fingers tearing through flesh and ribs, searching for the beating, terrified heart.
Fifty.
The last soldier from that group ran, screaming hysterically. Li Yuan let him run a few steps before throwing a stone with devastating force. The stone hit the back of the soldier's head, shattering the skull and splattering brains on the ground.
Fifty-one.
James, sitting blind in the middle of the battlefield, raised his head toward the sound. "How many are left?" he asked in a hoarse voice.
Li Yuan looked around. There were still about twenty soldiers left, most of them wounded and terrified.
"Not enough," he answered in a flat voice. "Still too many."
Colonel Blackthorne, who had been watching the destruction of his army from a distance, yelled with a voice that was broken by fear and rage.
"Retreat! RETREAT! We're leaving this cursed place!"
"NO ONE IS LEAVING!" Li Yuan's voice thundered again, making the remaining birds fly from the trees in a panic.
The eyes of the abyss swept across the entire square, and in them, the remaining soldiers saw their own certain death.
"You came here to kill. You will die here. ALL OF YOU!"
Robert, still crawling on the ground with a long blood trail behind him, looked at Li Yuan with eyes full of concern.
"Yuan," he whispered. "You're still Yuan, aren't you? The man who taught us about courage?"
Li Yuan was silent for a moment, his bloody hands frozen in the air. In the eyes of the abyss, for a fleeting moment, there was a trace of the man who had once taught Lila to write, who had once shared tea with Anna on a quiet night, who had once laughed with Marcus after a hunt.
But that trace disappeared as quickly as it came, swallowed by the darkness that had taken over.
"Yuan is dead," he said in an empty voice. "All that remains is rage."
In his Zhenjing, the two Understandings vibrated with an intensity that almost tore his consciousness apart. The Understanding of Emotion reached new depths in comprehending human pain. The Understanding of Rage began to touch the essence of what it means to lose everything and choose destruction as the only answer.
Almost there, something within him whispered. Almost at the point where the true meaning will be revealed.
But at what cost?
Li Yuan pushed the question aside and stepped forward toward the remaining soldiers, his bloody hands ready to continue the harvest of death.
And in the surrounding houses, tearful eyes watched the complete transformation of the man they had once loved into something they no longer recognized.