The air was thick with despair. The battered Gu Master lay crumpled on the cold ground, blood staining his once-pristine robes. His chest heaved with every shallow breath, and a shadow loomed over him—an old man, his face weathered by time and sorrow.
"Ge Guang," the elder's voice was soft, but it carried the weight of years, an old power that demanded attention.
The young man, disoriented, blinked rapidly, his mind struggling to grasp the situation. His eyes widened in disbelief as they locked onto the old man's face. Then, as if propelled by an unstoppable force, he surged forward, his arms wrapping around the elder in desperate need of reassurance.
"Father!" he cried out, his voice breaking. His sobs were ragged, as if his very soul had been torn asunder.
The elder's hands, though worn and trembling, gently patted his son's back, offering a silent comfort that seemed almost out of place in this world of destruction. "It's alright," he murmured, his voice like the rustling of dry leaves.
But Ge Guang's anguish was relentless. He pulled away, eyes red and wild with the horror of his words. "Everyone… Everyone's dead," he gasped, the weight of his loss almost suffocating him. "We couldn't even recover the bodies."
The old man's gaze swept over the group of nearby Gu Masters, his eyes cold and calculating, before giving a subtle wave. Wordlessly, they retreated, leaving father and son alone amidst the ruins of their world.
"What happened?" the elder asked, his voice steady, despite the tension coiling in his chest.
"Beast Emperor," Ge Guang spat out, his face contorting with hatred. "We encountered a Beast Emperor."
The elder's expression hardened, as if the words alone had stirred the ancient memories of battle. He pulled his son close, his arms tightening around the young man. "No wonder," he whispered, understanding more than words could convey.
The moment lingered, a fragile pause before the storm. The elder pulled Ge Guang away, his grip firm, yet fatherly. "You are the young tribe leader now. You cannot afford to show weakness—not in front of the clan."
Ge Guang's chest rose and fell rapidly as he fought to regain his composure. His gaze, once filled with raw grief, turned inward. His eyes hardened, becoming a mirror of his father's unspoken command. But beneath that veneer of stoic resolve, there was an undeniable tremor. "Father," he said, his voice low with sorrow, "my aperture… it's damaged. I've regressed. I'm back to Rank 1."
The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of disappointment. "Do you really think I'm fit to lead the tribe like this?"
The elder's hand fell on Ge Guang's shoulder, his touch grounding, yet his eyes—sharp as steel—burned with determination. "Don't think like that. Your sister is missing. We don't even know if she's alive or dead. You're my only son. You are the future of the Ge Tribe."
He paused, looking at Ge Guang's weary face, then sighed deeply. "As for your cultivation… I've checked. It's not as bad as you think. Your injuries are not fatal. With time, you can rebuild. Rank 3 is still within your reach."
The elder's gaze softened, but there was a coldness in his words, a truth that could not be denied. "I've already brought the Copper Relic Gu and Red Steel Relic Gu for you. All you need to do is rise again."
Ge Guang's heart thudded painfully in his chest as he processed his father's words. "It looks like we won't be attending the Hero Assembly this year," the elder said quietly, the weight of their failure settling around them.
Ge Guang clenched his fists, his face twisted in resolve. "Father, give me six months. No—just six months, and I'll be Rank 3 again. I swear it."
The elder looked at him, his expression unreadable. "You overestimate yourself. Even with the Relic Gu, it'll take at least three or four years before you regain that level."
He turned away, voice colder than before. "Your Gu Worms were destroyed. I've arranged for the elders to bring you some Rank 1 Gu Worms—ones you can use."
But Ge Guang's voice cut through the air, sharp and unwavering. "Father, I don't need those."
The words were like a declaration, a promise of something more. "I've made my decision. Decades ago, the Wolf King slaughtered beasts and men alike on the battlefield. I want to become like him."
The elder's face twisted with sorrow, his eyes narrowing as he turned away. "Don't dream foolish dreams. You're in your thirties. Stop chasing unattainable ideals."
But Ge Guang, no—Fang Yuan—did not listen. The moment the elder departed, the cold weight of his words echoed in the silence. He looked at the pouch left behind, his lips curling into a slight, almost imperceptible smile.
"Step one," he muttered to himself, his voice low and full of purpose. "Complete."
...
Cough
A violent rattle broke the stillness of the room.
The old tribe leader, his frail body barely holding together, gripped his chest, his face contorted in sudden agony. His breath came in short, harsh bursts, each one more labored than the last.
His vision blurred, his strength ebbing away.
Another fit of coughing, blood spilling from his cracked lips, staining his hands. The world spun, and his legs betrayed him.
He stumbled forward, only to collapse onto the bed in a final, helpless heap. His body went limp, his pulse fading as quickly as his consciousness. A last, breathless sigh escaped him before the darkness took him entirely.
The same sinister fate was unfolding across the Gu Houses.
In another room, a Healing Gu Master who had rushed to tend to Ge Guang's wounds, his expression focused and determined, suddenly froze mid-action.
Blood trickled from his nostrils, a sign of the internal chaos ravaging his body. His eyes widened in shock, then dulled as he staggered, lost his footing, and fell. His body hit the floor with a sickening thud, the faint pulse of life extinguishing almost as quickly as it had come.
And outside, the two guards who had helped Ge Guang to the Gu House were not spared either. Their cultivation, barely at Rank 1, offered them no defense against the unseen poison coursing through their veins.
They gasped, their bodies jerking in spasms as their life force was violently ripped from them. The last flickers of life left their eyes in a final, silent cry for help that never came. Their bodies dropped to the cold earth without a sound, lifeless before they even hit the ground.