📖 Chapter 2 – The Letter
The ancestral hall's noise still echoed in Yun Wu's mind as he walked away from it. His expulsion had been swift, his father's words final. Yet his face was as calm as still water.
The path that led to his courtyard was empty. Servants and disciples alike avoided him now, as if he carried a plague. He neither noticed nor cared.
His courtyard was small, tucked in a corner of the vast Lin estate. The gate creaked faintly as he pushed it open. He stepped inside.
The place was exactly as it had always been—quiet, lifeless, ignored by everyone except him. A stone lantern stood at the entrance, its oil long since burned out. A single tree leaned against the wall, leaves brittle with neglect.
He entered the room.
A narrow bed. A wooden chest at its foot. A faded robe hung from a peg on the wall. That was all.
Yun Wu walked to the chest, crouched, and opened it. Inside were a few spare clothes, an old dagger with a chipped edge, and a bundle wrapped in cloth.
He paused. His hand lingered on the bundle. Slowly, he lifted it out and unwrapped it.
Inside lay a folded letter, its edges yellowed by time. His eyes narrowed.
He sat on the bed and opened it carefully, as though afraid the paper would crumble.
The handwriting was delicate, uneven in places, but still clear.
> "My child,
If you are reading this, it means I was not able to stay by your side. Forgive me. I may not be there to raise you, but know this truth: I love you, with all that I am. Do not doubt it, no matter what others may say.
– Yun"
For a long moment, he sat in silence, the letter in his hands.
The hall where Lin Feng mocked her face flickered in his mind. The laughter. The silence of his brothers. The cold dismissal from his father.
They had never loved her. Not once.
But this letter…
His grip on the paper tightened, but he did not tremble. His face did not change. Only his gaze grew heavier, like a storm waiting to fall.
"Yun…" he said quietly. His mother had left no surname, no legacy, nothing but her name and this letter.
He folded the paper carefully, returned it to the bundle, and tied the cloth again. He stood.
The bed. The chest. The robe on the wall. None of it mattered. He had carried the Lin name for thirty-five years, but it had never been his. Not truly.
At the doorway, he stopped. His voice was low, firm, the words falling like stone.
"Lin Wu is dead. From this day, my name is Yun Wu."
He stepped outside, closing the door behind him. The sound was dull, final.
The courtyard lay silent under the night sky. The faint glow of the hall still reached this corner of the estate, but Yun Wu did not look back. He walked to the gate, his figure vanishing into the darkness beyond.
Somewhere deep in his chest, buried under years of silence, the memory of his mother's love glowed faintly. It was enough.
The Lin Clan had cast him out. That was their choice.
He would build something greater.
But first, he would walk the world as Yun Wu, son of Yun, and no one else.