Dawn crept slowly over Yangshui Village, but Lin Tianhan felt no connection to the light, nor to the world it revealed.He had lived among these people his entire life—eating what they ate,working in the same fields,cutting wood beside them through scorching summers and freezing winters—yet he had never truly belonged.
Where others shared laughter and warmth, Tianhan existed only as a distant shadow.
Children ran together, their voices rising with innocent joy.The elders sat beneath old trees, chatting quietly as smoke curled from their pipes.Families gathered around fires each night, sharing food and stories.
But Tianhan…Tianhan was always outside the circle.Always behind the others.A presence without a place.A name without roots.A boy without a family.
In recent years, it had grown worse.His eyes had become too sharp, too cold.His strength far surpassed boys older and larger than him.And his aura… heavy, oppressive… pushed people away.
Whispers followed him wherever he walked:
"He's strange… Tianhan isn't like us.""His eyes aren't human.""My mother said not to go near him!"
He never hated them for it.He envied them.
For they possessed things he had never tasted—a clan,a place of belonging,a home bound by love.
He stood alone at the edge of the fields, watching smoke rise from the village roofs.A question pulsed in his chest like an old wound:
"Will I always be like this?Rootless? Homeless?"
He clenched his fist.
He remembered the wandering elder's warnings…the mark of the claw…the fate awaiting him.
And remembered, too, the nights he slept without a blanket,the hunger that devoured his childhood,and the looks of contempt that were his only companions.
Then—from the depth of his heart—a whisper rose, clearer and stronger than ever before:
"I will build my own family."
Not a wish.Not a dream.
A vow.
"I will create a clan—a clan that belongs to me,that does not cast me aside,a clan where no one feels the loneliness that has haunted me all my life."
Even the wind seemed to pause, as though the world itself listened to that vow.
But before the thought could fully settle, a desperate cry cut through the village:
"Cultivator! A strange cultivator has entered the village!""He's threatening the village chief!"
Tianhan's heartbeat raced.
He sprinted toward the central square, a sense of danger clawing through his chest.
When he arrived, he saw it:
A tall, ragged man stood in the village center, clutching the frail village chief by the throat.The old man's feet barely touched the ground.
"Give me food!Give me herbs!Or I'll snap this brittle old man in half!"
The villagers panicked.Some stepped back in fear when Tianhan arrived,some felt relief,others wondered—
"Will he become violent like the intruder?"
Tianhan ignored them all.
His eyes locked only onto the hand choking the village chief.
One step forward.Then another.
His voice came out low and calm—like a stone dropping into a silent abyss:
"Let him go."
The cultivator sneered.
"Hah? And who are you supposed to be? A child?"
Tianhan stared back with his lazy, black eyes—but beneath them, a storm brewed.
"I said… let him go."
The man tightened his grip.
"Come make m—"
He never finished the sentence.
Something inside Tianhan moved before thought, before instinct, before breath.
The Demonic Claws unfurled from his fingers, rising slowly—almost joyfully—as if greeting prey it had long awaited.
Tianhan did not feel fear.
He felt… clarity.
"If I will build a clan of my own…I cannot allow anyone to harm the people who treated me as one of them."
And then—he vanished.
Completely disappeared.
In less than a heartbeat, he reappeared in front of the attacker.
Black claws flashed like a streak of night.
The villagers did not see the motion—only heard:
SHHHRAAACK!
A sound that tore through the air.
Then a heavy thud.
The attacker's right arm lay on the ground several steps away—severed cleanly from the shoulder.
The man fell to his knees, face pale, eyes wide with horror.
Tianhan stood over him, unmoving, his claws dripping with enemy blood.His aura was calm—too calm—yet colder than death itself.
He turned to the village chief and helped him to his feet.
"Are you alright?"
The old man nodded weakly, voice trembling:
"Th… thank you, son."
"Son."
The word struck Tianhan's heart like lightning.
He had not heard that word from anyone in his entire life.
Warmth—wild and unfamiliar—rose in his chest, threatening to overflow.
But behind them, the cultivator screamed:
"You monster! That isn't human martial arts!"
Tianhan answered, voice low and icy:
"You don't need to understand it.You won't live long enough to use it."
He stepped forward to finish him—
But a trembling hand grabbed Tianhan's sleeve.
The village chief.
"Don't kill him… leave him to the village."
Tianhan froze.
He could have ended the man without hesitation.The impulse still burned in his claws.
But the old man's frail hand…pulled him back from the edge.
The claws faded.His eyes softened.
"As you wish… elder."
An hour later, Tianhan sat alone behind the fields, far from the noise of the village.
He looked down at his palm.The faint shadow of the claws still lingered.
If I truly wish to build a clan…I must become stronger.Much stronger.
He inhaled deeply.
His heart felt heavier—but clearer than ever.
I won't allow anyone to threaten those I care for.No one will feel the loneliness I endured.I will turn all this pain… into strength.
He raised his head toward the horizon.
"I will build a clan…where everyone is treated as family."
And in that moment—for the first time in his life—Lin Tianhan did not feel entirely alone.