The plains fell silent once more. Only the steady hiss of rain striking the mud accompanied him now. Han Jiyul walked on. Thick mud clung to his boots, and every step left a heavy, drowning print in the soaked earth. The air remained sharp with the scent of wet soil and rusting metal, the lingering smell of the sword still gripped in his hand. He didn't look back. The corpses were already fading into the storm behind him.
"Tch... dumbasses," he muttered under his breath.
The five of them actually thought they were something special. They swung their rusted blades like heroes from a bedtime story, but they were just idiots. His fingers brushed the hilt of his sword as he walked.
"They died for this? Trash that couldn't even wipe their own filth, let alone wield it. Thought I'd just hand it over?"
A humorless chuckle escaped his throat.
"'Hand it over, kid.' Yeah? Hand this, you dead bastard."
The rain eased slightly, but the sky remained heavy, pressing low against the horizon.
"That first one... begged like a dog when I cut his hand off. Cried for his mama." He mimicked the whine, pitching his voice high and pathetic. "'Ahhh please, mercy!'"
Then his tone flattened instantly. "Mercy isn't free."
The weight of the sword shifted against his back. His eyes narrowed as the lingering effects of the Ember pulsed.
"Freakin' memories, though. That old woman waiting for her son to come home with soup on the fire." He rolled his neck to crack the tension. "Not my mother. Not my problem."
The path ahead was nothing but wet dirt and scattered weeds bending in the wind. A crow circled above, its cry lost in the distance.
"This damn power is strange," he muttered. "Every time I use it, someone else's past crashes in like it owns me."
He stared briefly at his hand before shoving it into his cloak.
"Got stronger, though. Worth it. Worth every corpse."
The plains shifted into uneven fields dotted with jagged rocks. The wind pushed against him, rattling the metal clasp at his shoulder.
"They weren't strong," he said to the empty air. "Just loud. They thought numbers mattered. Thought fear would make me freeze."
A faint smirk touched his lips.
"Didn't even think twice when I swung. Necks split open like ripe fruit. Blood everywhere. Warm. Messy." He glanced down at his boots, streaked red where the rain hadn't washed it away. "Stains. Should've aimed cleaner."
The wind carried a faint smell of smoke, likely distant cookfires from the city. The capital was still far, but close enough for the air to change.
"Whatever. Capital is next. Need coin. Need work. Mainly need to find who the hell I am."
His gaze flicked down to his chest where the Blood Ember's faint heat pulsed beneath his skin.
"This thing... it isn't just a tool. It talks. Not with words, but with memories. Like it wants me to feel something."
He let out a quiet, bitter laugh.
"Feel? I left that behind years ago. Master Shuyong taught me that right before I put him in the dirt."
The memory rose unbidden. Shuyong's voice, calm as ever, even as he bled out.
"Sold me out like a rat," Jiyul muttered. "Thought I wouldn't find out. Thought 'Oh, little Jiyul is just a kid, he'll never know.' Yeah? That kid gutted you, old man."
His boots squelched with a steady rhythm.
"Capital better have better work. Bodyguarding. Bounty hunting. Hell, maybe some rich idiot wants someone dead." He adjusted the sword strap. "As long as they pay up front."
The Blood Ember pulsed again, ghost-like beneath his skin.
"That second guy... saw his kid in my head. Little girl. Crying. Holding some wooden toy." He scoffed. "What does that have to do with me? Should have picked a different father."
The wind cut across the plains, carrying the faint clink of distant metal. Maybe a caravan or soldiers. Jiyul didn't slow down.
"This thing is real. The strength it gives me is mine now. Next time someone swings, I use it again. Kill, absorb, move on. Rinse and repeat."
His lips twitched faintly.
"The Capital might have cultivators. Fancy clothes, clean blades. Wonder if they scream different." He chuckled low. "As long as they bleed the same."
The city walls were still invisible on the horizon, but the road ahead was clear.
"And if they come for me?" His eyes hardened. "I will stack their corpses too."
Mercy was for people who died young. Jiyul kept walking.
"If I gotta walk through a hundred bodies to get there, so be it."
Then, like a whisper to himself: "No friends. No masters. No damn regrets."
He chuckled. "Should carve that on a wall somewhere. Jiyul's Creed."
He walked on, the plain stretching ahead, quiet and endless.
"Capital better be worth it."