Fang Yuan's gaze swept over his parents — faces filled with warmth and gentle affection — yet within his eyes, there was only stillness, like an ancient well untouched by emotion.
'Parents?'
What are such titles worth?
Strip away the illusion of kinship, and what remains are but strangers sharing the same roof.
'Should I save them?' he mused coldly, his mind turning like a blade honed on fate itself.
His mother's tender gaze lingered on him, soft and full of love — a warmth that only deepened the frost in his heart.
His eyes flicked toward Fang Zheng, then to his father, Fang Mo. Both were only Rank 2 Initial Stage Gu Masters — their C-grade aptitudes a silent testament to mediocrity, to the futility of effort against heaven's cruel design.
Fang Yuan's expression remained unchanged, yet within his thoughts, storm clouds gathered.
He laid still for a long moment, watching quietly as his parents, retired to their chambers after tucking Fang Zheng into bed.
Fang Yuan's eyes flickered faintly under the dim lamplight.
Just as his parents turned to leave, his voice broke the silence — soft, almost childlike, yet carrying a strange weight.
"Mother."
Jiaying halted mid-step, startled.
She turned, her face bathed in warm light, a gentle smile forming as she said with surprise, "Yuan'er, you haven't gone to sleep yet?"
They had only stayed to ensure both sons were sleeping — yet Fang Yuan's sudden call indicated otherwise.
Jiaying approached, her footsteps light, her expression full of concern. "Yuan'er, it's late. Go to bed."
Fang Yuan reached out, grasping her hand. His small fingers trembled slightly, a perfect mimicry of weakness.
"Mom… I feel sick." He raised his eyes, pupils reflecting fragile innocence. "Can you stay with me tomorrow?"
Jiaying's heart softened instantly.
She placed her palm against his forehead, checking for fever — but, she found nothing.
A faint smile curved her lips.
"Yuan'er, you're fine," she said tenderly, brushing his hair aside.
"Mother will be back soon with your father, after the clan mission. Be good, alright?"
But Fang Yuan's eyes dimmed, his voice quivering with a hint of desperation that was almost too real.
"Mom… can't you refuse the mission? Please… I really don't feel well."
For a brief moment, Jiaying hesitated. The softness in his tone, the plea — it reached into her heart.
Then footsteps approached from behind.
Fang Mo's deep voice cut through the tension like a steady blade.
"Jiaying," he said, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. His eyes lingered on Fang Yuan's small figure.
"It's fine. You stay here and look after Yuan'er."
"I'll handle the mission."
He smiled faintly, unaware of the cold, calculating glint that flashed through Fang Yuan's eyes beneath the tender mask.
In that fleeting moment, under the flicker of lamplight, the scene seemed serene — a loving family exchanging warmth before parting.
Yet Fang Yuan, his lips parted slightly as if to speak, but the words died before they could escape.
He lowered his gaze, the faintest trace of calculation flickering behind his calm eyes.
Then, in a voice tinged with fragile obedience, he said softly, "Mother… see? Even Father agreed."
Jiaying's heart melted. She let out a helpless sigh, her expression filled with tender affection.
"Alright, alright," she said with a weary smile. "Mother will stay with you tomorrow."
"Satisfied now?"
Fang Yuan simply nodded, the perfect picture of a quiet, gentle child. He closed his eyes and clung to her hand, feigning peace, his small frame trembling slightly as she stroked his hair with love and care.
After a moment, Jiaying gently freed herself from his grasp, stepping back with quiet reluctance.
She lingered for a heartbeat longer, her gaze full of warmth, before softly closing the door behind her.
The faint click of the door echoed in the dim corridor.
Outside, Jiaying turned to her husband, her voice low.
"You know," she said, "I could still come with you tomorrow."
Fang Mo shook his head, smiling faintly.
"No. Yuan'er rarely asks us for anything."
"If he says he's unwell and wants his mother by his side, should we deny him his first request?"
Jiaying's brows furrowed, conflict flashing across her gentle face. Then, she sighed and nodded.
"Be careful tomorrow," she murmured.
Fang Mo chuckled, his voice light, almost careless.
"Careful? The Elder himself is leading this wolf subjugation. What's there to worry about?"
Jiaying frowned deeply, the weight of unease clouding her eyes. Seeing her expression, Fang Mo's laughter faltered.
He reached out, touching her shoulder gently, a softer smile replacing his bravado.
"Alright, alright," he said. "I'll be careful."
The night wind whispered through the corridor, carrying with it the scent of fading lamplight and adult love.
....
Inside the dimly lit room, Fang Yuan's eyes fluttered open, calm and lucid as moonlight. His gaze drifted to the fading silhouettes beyond the doorway.
"Father… I'm sorry," he whispered — but the words were hollow, devoid of even the faintest tremor of emotion.
His eyes, dark and unfathomable, reflected not guilt, but cold detachment.
"Tomorrow," he murmured softly, "be cautious. If fortune favors you, you may yet return alive."
Then, a faint pause.
His tone dropped lower, almost tender in mockery.
"If not… then so be it."
A quiet sigh escaped his lips as he turned his gaze toward the window.
The night sky stretched vast and endless, stars scattered like shards of frozen light. Their distant brilliance flickered in his pupils, igniting a glint of resolve.
"This time," he said under his breath, each word sharp as steel, "I will succeed. No matter what."
His gaze shifted toward Fang Zheng, sleeping soundly beside him.
Slowly, deliberately, his right hand extended, fingers brushing his younger brother's throat, feeling the fragile rhythm of life pulsing beneath the skin.
A faint smile curved Fang Yuan's lips — serene, yet chilling.
"Fang Zheng… oh, Fang Zheng."
The words lingered like a curse in the quiet air. Then, just as gently, he withdrew his hand, eyes narrowing in disdain.
"You're not worthy."
'So what if you are my brother, sharing my blood?'
'A name on a family register does not make you my kin. Value decides kinship; without it, you are a stranger I can discard without a second thought.'
'As for my parents, they are mere remnants of an outdated bond. If keeping them near me maintains balance, so be it—but I will not waste time protecting them. They are not worthy.'
'My aunt, uncle, the clan elders, even the so-called Gu Immortals—they are all pawns in the great game of heaven and earth.'
'Why should I waste sentiment on the weak? Why shackle myself with affection?'
A faint chuckle escaped his lips, low, cold, and distant.
"Hehe… as long as you do not stand in my way," he whispered, his expression unreadable in the moonlight, "then live, crawl, struggle—I will not care."
"But the moment you block my path…"
His eyes gleamed like twin blades beneath the starlit void.
"Then vanish—as all obstacles must."