Chen Rui saw his father fall.
The dagger struck Chen Zhen with brutal force, sending him crashing backward, blood spraying across the stone as his body skidded to a halt. For a heartbeat, the world narrowed until nothing existed except that single sight.
"Father!"
The scream tore out of Chen Rui's chest before he could stop it. Panic flooded his face, his attention snapping away from the youth he had been fighting, his instincts shattering in that one fatal instant.
The youth did not hesitate.
Steel plunged forward, driving straight through Chen Rui's chest with merciless precision. The blade pierced his heart cleanly, the impact lifting him slightly off his feet before he staggered backward.
Chen Rui froze.
His eyes dropped slowly to the blood soaking his robe, his trembling hands pressing uselessly against the wound as disbelief spread across his face. His lips parted as if to speak, but no sound came out, only a wet breath escaping his throat.
The youth leaned closer, his voice low and mocking.
"Tch. Tch. Tch. Didn't anyone teach you?" he said softly. "In a fight, you never look away."
Chen Rui's knees gave out.
As he collapsed, the youth withdrew his blade and added casually,
"After your death, there won't be another Blood Refinement cultivator worth mentioning in your family."
"Rui'er!"
Chen Zhen's scream was raw and broken.
He clawed at the ground, blood spilling from his mouth as he tried to rise, his eyes locked onto his son's falling body. His fingers twitched, reaching, desperate, but he was too slow.
Chen Rui struck the stone and did not move again.
Before Chen Zhen could even crawl another step, the youth he had been fighting stepped forward. There was no flourish, no hesitation, only a clean, merciless arc of steel.
Chen Zhen's head separated from his body.
His corpse collapsed forward, blood pooling beneath it as the head rolled to the side, eyes still open.
The youth spat onto the remains and sneered.
"Like father," he said coldly, "like son."
Chen Yuan saw everything.
For the first time since the fighting began, his mind refused to move forward. His thoughts stalled, locked on the sight before him, Chen Zhen fallen, Chen Rui dead, the courtyard drowning in blood.
Another dagger screamed through the air.
It struck Chen Yuan's knee.
Bone shattered.
Agony exploded through him, white-hot and absolute, ripping a hoarse cry from his throat as his leg buckled beneath him. He collapsed to one knee, blood pouring freely, his sword slipping from fingers that no longer obeyed him.
Before he could recover, Wei Qiu stepped in.
The blade came down once....cutting deep.
Then again.
Chen Yuan was driven to the ground, blood splattering the stone beneath him as his body was pinned by pain and force alike.
Hei Yan's voice drifted through the chaos, calm and indifferent.
"That's enough," he said. "You've done well."
Wei Qiu withdrew immediately, bowing slightly.
"Yes, Master."
The remaining youths moved without restraint.
What little resistance the Chen family had left was erased. Elders were cut down mid-step. Guards were slaughtered as they fled, their screams echoing briefly before being silenced. Blood ran freely across the courtyard stones, the night filled with cries that ended too quickly.
Then the doors were broken open.
Women were dragged out screaming, their hair clenched in cruel fists. Children were ripped from hiding places, crying for parents who would never answer. Some were thrown to the ground, others hauled away kicking and sobbing, their voices cracking as hands clamped over their mouths.
Chen Yuan watched.
He tried to rise.
Wei Qiu stepped forward and slashed.
The second leg gave way.
Chen Yuan collapsed again, face striking blood-slick stone as a roar of helpless fury tore from his chest. His body shook violently, his fingers clawing uselessly at the ground as the world burned around him.
Wei Qiu crouched beside him, his voice soft with amusement.
"Tch, tch, tch… does it hurt?" he asked. "Watching your people die like this? Do you even know how the news leaked? Who betrayed you?"
Chen Yuan's breath came in broken gasps, blood spilling from his lips as he forced the words out through the pain.
"I… believed… in them," he rasped. "I still… do."
Wei Qiu spat onto his shoulder.
"Belief," he said, "is for fools."
He leaned closer, his smile widening.
"And do you know what happens to women like these?" His voice lowered. "They become vessels. Their suffering feeds us. Their despair strengthens our cultivation."
Chen Yuan trembled violently.
His vision blurred as he saw robes torn, bodies shoved, people he had known his entire life treated like spoils.
Screams rose behind Wei Qiu—then cut off, one by one.
Wei Qiu tilted his head, suddenly thoughtful.
"Hm." His lips curled. "Now that I think about it… someone's missing."
Chen Yuan's head snapped up despite the pain.
Every shred of strength he had left went into the sound that tore out of him.
"Don't you dare."
His voice cracked, raw with terror and rage.
Wei Qiu laughed softly.
"Oh?"
***
Inside the room, the sounds from outside did not stop.
They came in waves....screams rising and breaking off too suddenly, the dull impact of bodies hitting stone, the sharp ring of metal that made the air itself seem to flinch. Each sound carried through the walls, slipping through cracks, refusing to stay outside.
Lin Shu sat on the floor with Chen Ming in her arms.
Her body trembled despite her efforts to still it. Her breath came shallow, controlled only because she forced it to be. One arm was wrapped tightly around Chen Ming's back, her hand spread wide as if she could shield him simply by holding him closer.
Chen Ming pressed his face against her sleeve.
He lifted his head slowly, his small hands gripping the fabric of her robe. His eyes were already wet, lashes clumped together as tears gathered and refused to fall.
"Mother," he whispered, his voice shaking despite his effort to keep it steady. "What's happening?"
Another scream cut through the courtyard.
Chen Ming flinched hard.
"Mother," he said again, louder now, panic creeping into his voice. "Are they fighting?"
Lin Shu swallowed.
She lowered her head and rested her forehead briefly against his hair, gathering what strength she could. When she spoke, her voice was soft, careful, shaped to sound firm even as it shook at the edges.
"Of course not," she said. "Didn't I tell you? They're your father's old friends."
Chen Ming sniffed. "Then… then why are they screaming?"
Lin Shu stroked his hair, slow and steady, her fingers moving again and again through the same place.
"They're playing," she said. "They're playing hide-and-seek."
Another scream rang out, closer this time.
Lin Shu stiffened before she could stop herself.
Chen Ming felt it immediately. His eyes widened. "Mother?"
She forced a smile, one that did not quite reach her eyes. "They're loud players," she said. "Some people scream when they're caught."
Chen Ming nodded slowly, as if trying to accept that. His grip on her robe tightened instead.
Then came a crash, wood splintering, something heavy breaking through a barrier not far away.
Lin Shu stood up at once.
"Come," she said, her voice suddenly brisk. "It's our turn to hide."
She lifted Chen Ming into her arms. He wrapped himself around her instinctively, his arms around her neck, his face pressed against her shoulder.
They crossed the room quickly.
Lin Shu knelt beside the wall and pressed against a section of wood. A faint click sounded. The panel slid aside, revealing a narrow opening hidden behind the furnishings.
The space beyond was small. Barely enough.
She stepped inside with him and pulled the panel closed behind them.
Darkness swallowed them.
Chen Ming's breath came fast and uneven now. Lin Shu shifted him carefully, settling him against her chest. She could feel his heart pounding through his thin robe.
She raised one finger to her lips.
Before he could ask anything, a voice sounded outside the room.
"Hello?"
The tone was light. Curious. Amused.
"Is Chen Yuan's wife here?"
Footsteps moved across the floor.
Drawers were pulled open. Objects were knocked aside. Something shattered against the wall.
"Are you here?" the voice sang.
"Or maybe… here?"
Lin Shu clamped one hand gently over Chen Ming's mouth, pressing his face into her shoulder. Her other arm locked around him, holding him so tightly he could feel her shaking.
Her eyes burned.
Tears slid down her cheeks soundlessly, disappearing into Chen Ming's hair.
She looked down at him.
Their eyes met.
Chen Ming stared up at her, terror plain and helpless on his face. His lips trembled beneath her palm.
Lin Shu inhaled once.
Then she lowered her hand from his mouth and cupped his cheek instead.
"Ming'er," she whispered, so softly it was barely sound at all. "Listen to Mother."
His eyes filled instantly.
She leaned closer, her forehead touching his. "Mother is going to go outside now," she said. "And Mother will get caught."
Chen Ming shook his head violently. Tears spilled over. "No—no—Mother—"
She held his face firmly between her hands, forcing him to look at her. Her expression had hardened into something steady, something final.
"So you won't," she said.
He sobbed silently, shoulders shaking.
"You want to win, don't you?" she asked.
He shook his head again, harder this time.
Lin Shu's voice softened. "But Mother wants you to win."
She reached for the black string bracelet around her wrist. Her fingers trembled as she snapped the small jade pendant free.
She looped the string over Chen Ming's neck, pressing the cool jade into his palm.
Lin Shu's fingers trembled as she lifted the pendant, the thin black string shaking between her hands. Her tears were already falling freely now, dropping onto Chen Ming's cheeks as she fumbled to loop it around his neck.
"Keep this," she whispered, her voice cracking despite her effort to steady it. "Keep it with you, Ming'er… whenever you miss Mother, whenever it feels too dark, you look at this, alright?"
She pressed the cool jade into his small palm and closed his fingers around it, holding them there as if afraid he might drop it.
Her smile came then, weak, trembling, stitched together through tears that refused to stop.
"And when Mother wants to speak to you," she said softly, the words blurring as her breath hitched, "it will speak for me. It will tell you everything I can't say right now."
Chen Ming clutched the pendant tightly, as though it were the only solid thing left in the world. His chest rose and fell in short, uneven breaths as he tried--desperately—to stay quiet.
Lin Shu leaned closer, her forehead nearly touching his, her tears dripping onto his lashes.
"Ming'er, listen to Mother," she whispered, each word strained and urgent. "No matter what you hear… no matter how loud it is… you do not come out."
His eyes widened in panic, his head shaking faintly.
She swallowed hard and forced herself to continue.
"You count," she said, her voice trembling openly now. "You count slowly. One by one. All the way to ten thousand."
She brushed his hair back with shaking fingers.
"When you finish counting… only then can you come out. That means you've won. That means you did well."
His lips parted in a silent cry as tears streamed down his face. He shook his head harder, his body trembling.
Lin Shu pulled him close and kissed his forehead, lingering there as if she could pour herself into that single touch.
"Promise me," she whispered against his skin, her voice breaking completely now. "Promise Mother you won't make a sound. Promise me you'll hide… even if you're scared."
Chen Ming's lips quivered violently. He couldn't speak.
He nodded.
Once.
Then again.
Lin Shu lifted his face gently, her hands framing his cheeks as she looked at him one last time, her eyes searching his as if engraving them into her soul.
"Remember this," she whispered, her voice barely holding together. "No matter what happens… Mother and Father love you. Always."
She kissed him once more.
Then she let go.
She pushed the panel open.
The light rushed in.
Lin Shu stepped out and pulled the panel closed behind her with a soft, final click.
A voice laughed immediately.
"Ah," it said. "There you are."
The scream that followed tore through the walls.
Inside the darkness, Chen Ming jerked violently, clamping both hands over his mouth as sobs wracked his small body. Tears soaked into his sleeves as he curled in on himself, biting down on his own fingers to keep from making a sound.
He squeezed the jade pendant to his chest.
The screams did not stop.
They tore through the walls in uneven bursts, sometimes sharp, sometimes dragged thin until Chen Ming's breath hitched in response. He pressed himself deeper into the narrow space, his back against the cold stone, his knees pulled tight to his chest until they ached.
His hands flew up and covered his mouth.
He pressed them there as hard as he could, fingers digging into his cheeks, as if he could push the sound back down his throat. His tears soaked into his sleeves almost immediately. They kept coming no matter how often he blinked, his lashes sticking together as his shoulders shook.
He bit down on his own palm to keep from making a sound.
Promise me.
He nodded to himself, again and again, his head moving quickly in the dark, even though no one was there to see it.
"I'm counting," he whispered into his hands, his voice barely more than breath slipping between his fingers. "I'm counting…"
He lifted one finger, staring at it hard.
"One."
Another finger followed, slower this time.
"Two."
His lips trembled as he tried to keep his breathing quiet.
"Three… four…"
A scream outside broke off suddenly, cut short in a way that made his whole body jerk. His head knocked against the wall as he flinched, pain blooming for a moment before being swallowed by something worse. His eyes squeezed shut, tears spilling faster now, hot against his skin.
"Five… six…"
His fingers shook as he raised them.
"Seven… eight… nine… ten."
He stared at his hands.
They were all up.
That was everything he knew.
His fingers curled, then stretched again, unsure what came next. His chest rose in sharp, uneven pulls as he sniffed, trying to swallow the sound.
"…One," he whispered again.
He started over.
"One. Two. Three."
His tears dropped onto his knees, darkening the fabric.
"Four… five…"
The screams outside thinned. They came farther apart, fading into distance until only the crackle of something burning drifted through the walls.
Chen Ming swallowed hard.
The space around him felt too quiet now.
"That means…" he whispered, his voice small, trembling as he clung to the idea. "That means they stopped playing."
He nodded quickly, as if the motion could make it true.
"So… Mother and Father should be okay now, right?"
He nodded again, faster.
"Yes," he whispered. "Mother never lies to me."
His lips quivered as he hugged himself tighter.
"When I go out," he said softly, voice breaking, "I'll scold them. I'll tell them never to play this kind of game again. I don't like it. I don't want to win."
His forehead pressed into his knees.
"…But I-I promised mother to count till 10,000."
So he did.
One.
Two.
His breathing slipped out of rhythm as his sobs returned, heavier now, his chest tightening until each breath burned. He wiped his face with his sleeve, smearing tears across his cheek without caring.
"…Three. Four. Five…"
Just like that, hours slipped past him.
Chen Ming cried until his chest hurt, then forced himself to count again, his voice dropping to a whisper as he curled over himself. When the numbers fell apart, he pressed the jade pendant hard between his palms, clenching it until his fingers ached, as if the pain might keep him awake.
He whispered to it, his lips brushing the cool surface.
"Mother?" he said, his voice hoarse. "Can you listen to me?"
He waited, breathing shallowly.
Nothing answered.
His fingers loosened slightly, hovering in front of him as if he had forgotten what they were for.
"…Was that already ten thousand?"
His eyes burned, the world feeling thick and slow around him, as if he were moving through water.
He nodded weakly to himself.
"Y-yeah," he whispered. "It should be enough. I've been counting for a long time. Mother will be proud."
His hands slipped away from his mouth.
Slowly, he reached out and pressed against the hidden panel.
It did not move.
His breath caught sharply in his throat.
He pushed again, harder, his palms sliding as his breathing sped up.
"Open," he whispered, panic creeping in. "Open…"
The panel shifted with a soft scrape.
Hot air rushed in at once.
Smoke followed, stinging his eyes and throat.
Chen Ming coughed hard as he stumbled out into the room, bending over as he sucked in air greedily, his chest burning with every breath.
"Mother?" he called, his voice hoarse. "Father?"
The room was wrong.
The table lay overturned. Glass crunched beneath his feet as he moved, drawers ripped open and emptied, cloth scattered across the floor like it had been thrown aside in anger.
"Mother?" he called again, louder, his voice cracking.
No one answered.
He ran.
The hallway beyond was thick with smoke, firelight flickering against the walls. His feet slipped once on something wet, but he caught himself and kept going, his arms pumping unevenly.
"Father!" he cried. "Mother!"
He burst into the courtyard.
Flames climbed along the edges of buildings, heat washing over him as black smoke rolled into the night sky. The ground beneath his feet felt sticky, his steps leaving dark marks behind him.
His breath came in sharp gasps.
"Mother?" he screamed, his voice breaking completely. "Where are you?"
He ran past shapes on the ground.
At first, he did not look at them.
Then his steps slowed.
His eyes dropped.
He saw torn clothes. Still bodies. Faces he did not recognize, and some he did.
"Guard?" he called suddenly, turning in place.
He saw him then.
The guard who followed him every day lay on his back, eyes wide and unblinking. A thin red line crossed his throat.
Chen Ming dropped to his knees beside him, stone biting into his skin.
"Wake up," he sobbed, grabbing his arm and shaking it. "Wake up! It's over! The game is over!"
The guard did not move.
Chen Ming scrambled backward, palms slipping as he shook his head hard.
"No… no…"
He turned—and froze.
The maid lay nearby.
The one who always slipped him buns when Mother was not looking.
"Maid sister!" he cried, crawling toward her on his hands and knees. "Wake up! I didn't tell Mother you gave me buns, I promise!"
She did not answer.
Chen Ming stared at her face, waiting, his breath held too long in his chest. When nothing changed, a sound tore out of him, broken and uneven, his mouth opening wide as if more air might force her to move. His hands slid off her sleeve as his arms shook, his balance tipping forward before he caught himself on the ground.
He pushed himself up with both palms and ran.
The main courtyard opened before him, wide and exposed, firelight trembling across the stone.
He slowed without meaning to.
Then he stopped.
His feet would not move.
His chest rose and fell sharply as his eyes fixed on the shape ahead.
His mother lay there.
Her robe was torn open, the fabric darkened and stiff in places. One of her sleeves had slipped down, her hand resting at an angle that made his stomach twist. She looked smaller than she should have, as if the space around her had grown and left her behind.
Chen Ming took a step.
His foot dragged slightly as it landed.
Then another.
"M-mother?" he whispered, the word catching in his throat.
He broke into a run and dropped to his knees beside her, stone biting into his skin as he grabbed her sleeve with both hands and pulled it close to his chest.
"Wake up," he cried, his voice stretching thin as it rose. "I counted. I counted all the way. The game is over now."
He shook her, careful at first, his hands trembling as if afraid she might break. When she did not move, his grip tightened, the motion growing rougher, uneven.
"Wake up," he begged, his face pressed close to her arm. "Please wake up."
She did not move.
The smoke burned deep in his chest. He coughed hard, doubling over, his grip loosening as he turned his head to suck in air.
That was when he saw him.
Lying a short distance away.
His father.
Chen Ming went completely still.
The coughing stopped mid-breath.
He stared, eyes wide, his mouth opening without sound. Then he began to move, slow and unsteady, dragging himself across the stone on his knees, his palms slipping as they pushed against the ground.
"Father?" he whimpered, the word barely holding together. "Why are you sleeping here?"
He reached him and grabbed his arm, fingers digging into the fabric of his robe as if he might slide away.
"Wake up," he cried, louder now, his voice breaking apart. "Wake up. Mother is crying. Everyone is sleeping."
His hands shook as he pulled, his small body leaning back with the effort.
"Why aren't you waking up?"
His vision blurred until the world smeared into light and shadow. His hand tightened around the jade pendant at his chest, squeezing until pain shot through his palm, but he did not loosen his grip.
His cries echoed across the ruined courtyard, high and thin, rising and falling without answer.
Gradually, his voice failed him.
The sound faded into hoarse breaths and broken sobs.
The Chen manor grew quiet again.
Smoke drifted through the courtyards, and embers glowed where the fire had not yet died.