'No...No..No...' Fang Xuan stumbled backward, his face filled with shock and horror as he stared at the bloodbath he had caused.
'What have I done?' he whispered to himself, his voice shaking as he stared at his blood-stained hands.
The truth hit him like a cold, harsh wind: he had killed innocent people in his blind rage, and he couldn't undo it.
His stomach churned , and he bent over, vomiting in disgust. His mind spun as he saw the blood and corpses around him.
He felt overwhelmed with guilt and horror, realizing the terrible things he had done in his rage.
The people he had killed were fathers, grandfathers, and sons of someone who had no relation to her mother's death, and he was now responsible for their deaths.
"KILL THEM!" a collective voice roared in his head.
He clutched his head, trembling. "Stop! I don't want to kill anymore—they were innocent."
The voices roared again, "KILL THEM!" Their relentless echo filled his mind.
"Stop!"
"Stop!"
"Stop!"
He began to squirm on the ground, trying to control the overwhelming voices.
His anger, pain, and the relentless commands collided with the harsh reality of his actions, leaving him feeling lost and broken.
After a while, he began to calm down, slowly regaining control of his crazed thoughts.
He straightened up, his mind now clearer but burdened by the realization that he was losing control of his own sanity.
However, he knew he couldn't let this setback cloud his judgment.
He needed to stay focused on surviving so he could take revenge on those responsible for his mother's death.
'I need to hide the bodies,'
'No, I need to run away. They'll search for them and suspect me,'
Taking a deep breath, he realized escaping was the best option.
He rushed back to his house. He burst inside and headed straight for the cellar to gather some supplies.
Inside, the faint light from a single oil lamp cast long shadows on the walls.
He quickly moved through the cluttered room, gathering what he needed. He grabbed a sturdy sack hanging by the door and began to pack supplies.
First, he took out several packages of dried food, pressing them into the sack. These would be essential for surviving in the mountains.
Next, he added 4 piece of bamboo gord to store water, carefully placing them so the sack wouldn't become too messy.
Once he packed the supplies, he raced to his room, grabbing other essential items.
With the sack slung over his shoulder, he then walked to his mother's bedroom.
He noticed a small wooden box in the corner.
He walked over and opened it to find a collection of his mother's jewelry—golden bangles, delicate necklaces, and precious rings.
Seeing these items made his heart ache, reminding him of her.
He hesitated for a moment, then carefully packed the jewelry into a smaller pouch and added it to the sack.
He couldn't bear the thought of losing these keepsakes or having them stolen.
Next, he checked underneath the bed to see if there was anything worth taking. He found something wrapped in cloth.
Unwrapping it, he discovered a thin one-handed sword with a delicate, feminine hilt. He guessed it must have been his mother's from her days as a cultivator.
He decided to keep it, slipping it into his waistband just in case.
With everything in order, he took one last look around the house.
The place, once filled with warmth and memories, now felt cold and distant.
He slung the heavy sack over his shoulder and stepped outside.
As he headed toward the mountains, each step felt heavy, but his mind was set on one goal: finding a way to survived first and get his revenge.