—
The night was torn apart by thunder.
Dark clouds swallowed the moon whole, and the forest groaned beneath the weight of the storm.
Rain crashed down like shards of glass, soaking the earth until it bled with mud.
Every flash of lightning painted a fleeting, ghastly scene — a man in a black cloak, soaked and heavy from the rain, dashed through the forest clutching his life's treasures: a little girl in his arms and a wounded woman barely breathing against his chest.
His long black hair clung to his face, streaked with rain and blood.
His boots were caked with blood and earth.
Beneath his torn cloak, he wore light silver armor engraved with guardian runes, though most were cracked and dim.
A long sword, once radiant with spiritual light, now hung useless at his waist — its blade chipped, its glow fading with his strength.
His breathing came in ragged gasps.
Each step sent a stabbing pain through his ribs.
His legs trembled, but he didn't stop.
He couldn't.
—
Behind him, the shouts grew closer.
"Don't let them escape!"
"Kill the Guardian! Kill them all!"
Jiāngyuè's heart clenched.
The dragon… that's what they wanted all along.
The divine creature he had sworn to protect — the ancient last dragon of the Imperial Lake, the spirit of their realm.
—
Behind him, torches flickered like a swarm of angry stars, chasing, closing in — the army of betrayal thundering through the rain-soaked forest.
And then — a whistle.
He turned his head just in time to see the arrow flying through the downpour.
It sliced the air like death itself.
He twisted, throwing his shoulder forward, shielding the woman and child.
Thwack!!
The arrow struck his back with a sickening thud.
He fell to his knees with a strangled cry, blood blooming like ink through his cloak.
But his arms never loosened.
He clutched them closer — his world, his reason.
—
The woman in his arms trembled, her once-rosy lips pale and stained with blood.
Her silver long hair, soaked and clinging to her face, glowed faintly under the lightning — the remnants of her spirit light.
She tried to lift her head.
"Jiāngyuè…" Ning Xuě'er's weak voice trembled as her bloodstained hand reached up, brushing his cheek.
Her eyes — once the color of spring's calm — were now dim, clouded with pain and fear. "You're hurt…"
"It's nothing," he lied, forcing a smile that was more agony than comfort. "We're almost safe, my love."
But deep down, he knew the truth.
It's was almost...
Impossible.
Then his gaze fell on the small face nestled against her chest — his daughter, Mù Xuán.
She looked barely seven, her large eyes wide with fear, glistening with tears.
Her tiny hands clutched at his armor. "Daddy…" she whimpered.
His heart shattered.
—
This was supposed to be a peaceful day.
A simple outing beyond the Imperial Lake — their first in years.
Mu Xuán'er had begged to see the outside world, and he had finally relented, promising her flowers, sunshine, laughter.
Not this nightmare.
This night was supposed to be her first adventure beyond the Imperial Lake… not her first glimpse of death.
—
He kissed their foreheads quickly, tasting the rain and blood.
"Don't cry, little one," he murmured. "Daddy's here…"
More arrows cut through the air.
He turned again, shielding them.
Two struck — one deep into his shoulder, another grazing his neck.
His body trembled violently, blood spilling freely now.
He clenched his jaw as he staggered forward but somehow still stood, forcing his trembling legs to move again.
The pain in his back was unbearable, but his heart was heavier.
—
Mu Xuán'er was crying softly now, whispering, "Daddy… I'm scared…"
He turned his head just enough to meet her teary gaze.
"It's okay, my little princess," he said, his voice breaking. "Daddy's here. Daddy will protect you."
She nodded, but tears kept falling.
Her tiny shoulders shook with every sob.
He held them tighter — tighter, as if the force of his embrace could shield them from the world.
He had to get them away.
He had to—
—
Another thunder cracked the sky open as another arrow whistled.
He ducked, twisting to protect them.
It struck his other shoulder, shattering bone.
His vision blurred, but he kept going, stumbling through the mud as lightning split the sky.
Each step felt like lifting mountains.
Each breath — another battle lost.
"Zhú Yuān…" he murmured under his breath, searching the sky between thunderclaps. "Where are you…?"
The dragon should have sensed the danger.
Should have come.
But the heavens remained silent, the storm raging on as if mocking his desperate faith.
His hope dimmed.
Was this how they would end?
—
Then — another sharp pain.
He didn't notice it.
His leg exploded with fire as an arrow buried into his calf and his body gave way.
With the last flicker of strength, Mù Jiāngyuè twisted mid-fall, shielding his wife and daughter with his own body as they rolled down the muddy slope.
Rocks and mud scraped his skin, and every roll drove the arrows deeper into his flesh.
His cloak tore apart. The pain in his back grew unbearable, the arrows digging deeper with each turn.
Pain blurred his vision, but still, he held them close.
Not a single cry escaped his lips — only low, guttural groans swallowed by thunder.
—
When they finally stopped, the world was spinning.
He was gasping, barely conscious.
The rain beat down harder, turning the earth beneath him to a pool of blood and water.
He turned his head — and froze.
His world shattered.
Ning Xuě'er was lying still beside him, coughing violently, her lips stained with dark blood.
Her breaths came in wet, gurgling bursts, her hand still protectively wrapped around Xuán'er's head.
"Xuě'er!" he rasped, gathering her in his arms.
She coughed violently, more blood spilling down her chin.
Her trembling fingers touched his face.
She tried to speak — but only more blood spilled.
She then coughed weakly, more dark blood spilling from her lips.
"Jiāngyuè…" She tried to smile, but her voice cracked. "Take her… run…"
"I can't leave you!" he shouted, his vision blurring with tears and rain. "You'll be fine! I'll heal you—"
—
He pressed his palm to her chest, summoning his spirit light.
But when it flickered to life, it was faint — a dying candle in the wind.
"Why… why isn't it working…?"
His light sputtered, then died.
He looked down at his hand—it was trembling.
His veins pulsed dark purple.
The poison was already in him too.
His heart sank.
"That heartless bastard…" he muttered, eyes burning. "How could he do this… to his own blood?"
The poison inside him was killing his power.
He stared at his trembling hands again, then at her face — her once-bright eyes now dimming.
"No… please… not like this…"
She raised her shaking hand and brushed his cheek, leaving a trail of blood.
"Promise me…" she whispered. "Protect Xuán'er…"
"Don't speak!" he choked, tears mixing with rain. "We'll make it! You'll see… the Imperial Lake again…"
—
But deep down, he knew.
This was the end.
Her touch lingered, warm for only a heartbeat, before her arm fell limp.
The world stopped.
The rain pounded harder, as if the heavens themselves wept for them.
He pulled her against his chest, pressing her head to his shoulder, whispering brokenly, "We were supposed to grow old together, remember? To watch Xuán'er blossom into a fine lady… Why, Heaven? Why now…?"
The warmth from her body began to fade. He felt it — that slow, unbearable stillness that followed death.
The one thing even a guardian couldn't fight.
He froze.
Then the scream tore through his throat, raw and hollow — drowned only by thunder.
"Xuě'er!"
Little Xuán'er sobbed, calling softly, "Mommy… Mommy, wake up…"
Mù Jiāngyuè's vision blurred.
His chest heaved.
He wanted to collapse, to die with her — but the sound of horses approaching snapped him back.
—
The army had arrived.
The thunder of hooves echoed closer. The valley trembled beneath their feet.
He held his daughter close, whispering softly, "Don't cry… no matter what happens. Don't cry, my little Xuán'er."
She whimpered, burying her face in his bloodstained chest.
He then turned, eyes burning red beneath the rain, as dozens of armored men appeared at the ridge above.
Their torches glowed like demons' eyes.
And leading them, atop a black stallion, sat the one face he wished he'd never see again.
Mù Jiāngyuè lifted his head slowly, pain blurring his sight — but he didn't need to see clearly to know.
—
The man atop the black stallion, draped in crimson armor that gleamed even under the storm, was Mù Qiāntáng — his own brother.
"Mù Qiāntáng…" Mù Jiāngyuè's voice was a low growl, each word soaked in pain.
—
Mù Qiāntáng dismounted slowly, his war armor glinting under the lightning — black steel inlaid with crimson lines, like veins of hatred.
His long hair was tied in a high knot, his lips twisted into a mocking smile.
The rain slid down his sharp features, but his eyes burned with cold satisfaction.
His soldiers surrounded Mù Jiāngyuè like wolves circling a dying stag.
—
"Well, well," Mù Qiāntáng sneered, his voice slick with venom. "The great Mù Jiāngyuè — protector of the Imperial Lake, guardian of the dragon — look at you now. Bleeding in the dirt like a dog."
Mù Jiāngyuè gritted his teeth, his grip tightening around his wife's lifeless body and his trembling daughter.
"Why…?" he rasped. "Why are you doing this?"
Mù Qiāntáng's smile widened as he crouched down, eyes glittering with cruel delight.
"Why? You really have to ask?"
He leaned closer, voice low and venomous. "Because of you. Because the dragon chose you."
Thunder cracked above them again, illuminating his face — twisted with envy and madness.
"All my life, I've trained, I've fought, I've bled for this kingdom. Yet the dragon bowed its head to you, the second son! While I was leading armies, you were playing by the lake, basking in its favor! Do you know what that felt like?" He spat into the mud. "It should've been me!"
Mù Jiāngyuè's expression didn't change.
His pain went beyond anger now — it was grief, disappointment deeper than any wound.
"Brother…" he whispered. "You've lost yourself."
Mù Qiāntáng laughed darkly, straightening. "No, I've finally found myself. When you die — when your blood seeps into this soil — I'll take your place. I'll guard the dragon. I'll command the kingdom. The Queen herself promised me the title of Commander once you're gone." His eyes gleamed with sick triumph. "So die for me, dear brother. Die and make me powerful."
"Qiāntáng—!"
"Shut up!" he shouted, slamming his sword into the ground. "The queen has promised me command of the armies once you're gone. I'll tame Zhú Yuān and be the strongest in the realm!"
He threw back his head and laughed, the sound mixing with the thunder.
But then—
A sudden crack split the sky.
Lightning illuminated the valley.
The wind howled.
Mù Qiāntáng's laughter died as he felt the air shift—heavy furious.
"What… what is this…?"
Mù Jiāngyuè's lips curved in a faint smile, even as blood poured down his chin.
"You shouldn't have said his name…"
Mù Qiāntáng's eyes widened. "No—"