Zihang was devastated. The betrayal by his own people and their fear of him cut deeper than any wound. His wings, which had manifested during his fury, had vanquished the attackers in a single blow, but the sight of them had terrified the villagers.
Murmurs spread like wildfire: "He is a demon!"
"He will destroy us all!"
"He must leave before he brings ruin to the village!"
Even Zihang's parents were silent, their expressions clouded with fear and uncertainty. Zihang turned to them, desperation in his voice.
"Mother, Father, what is happening to me? Why do I have these wings? Who am I? I'm not a demon—I'm your son! Please, tell the villagers I am not a monster!"
His father avoided his gaze, and his mother's eyes were filled with tears, but neither spoke a word. Confused and heartbroken, Zihang's memories began flashing in fragmented visions. His knees buckled, and he collapsed unconscious.
The villagers, seeing this, declared, "By tomorrow morning, he must be gone! Demons bring destruction. If he stays, the village will be doomed!" They dispersed to their homes, leaving Zihang's parents alone with his unconscious form.
Zihang's mother carried him inside and stayed by his side through the night, her heart heavy with sorrow. Before dawn, she finally spoke the truth.
"You are not our son," she whispered, tears streaming down her face. "We found you on the outskirts of the village. You were barely alive, beaten and tortured. We nursed you back to health, but we never knew where you came from or who you truly are. Take this money—it's all we have. Take care of yourself, Zihang, and promise me one thing: never harm anyone, no matter how much the world hurts you."
When Zihang woke, the villagers were already at their door, demanding his exile. He stepped outside, his shoulders slumped but his resolve firm.
"I'll leave," he said calmly. "But after I go, promise me you won't harm my parents."
The villagers remained silent, their fear overriding their guilt. With nothing but the clothes on his back and the small sum of money his mother had given him, Zihang left the only home he had ever known.
---
For weeks, Zihang wandered aimlessly, struggling to survive. He took odd jobs to earn food, teaching swordsmanship to children with nothing but a wooden stick. Some days, he went hungry, but he endured.
One day, while resting among a group of beggars, he saw a familiar figure: Leeming. The young warrior was distributing food and money to the homeless, his presence commanding yet compassionate. Zihang watched in silence until Leeming's eyes met his.
"Zihang?" Leeming's voice was filled with shock. He approached quickly, taking in Zihang's ragged appearance. "What happened to you? Why are you here?"
Zihang laughed bitterly, still wearing his mask. "We meet again, my friend. But now, I'm no longer the man I was. I've lost everything—my home, my family. I've been cast out like a demon."
Leeming's heart ached at Zihang's words. He knelt beside him, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Come with me to my clan," he offered. "There is a place for you there. It won't be easy—you'll have to follow our rules—but you'll have food, shelter, and dignity."
At first, Zihang hesitated. The idea of relying on someone else for survival stung his pride. But Leeming's sincerity broke through his resistance, and he finally agreed.
---
When they arrived at the Jiang clan, Leeming's elder brother, Yeeming, was waiting. His piercing gaze scanned Zihang from head to toe, his expression a mix of curiosity and disapproval.
"Who is this?" Yeeming demanded. "Where did you find him?"
Leeming hesitated. Zihang's clothes were filthy, and his disheveled appearance gave the impression of a vagrant. The faint smell of sweat and dirt clung to him, and Leeming knew his brother would judge harshly.
"This… this is my friend," Leeming said finally, his voice uncertain. "I found him near the Shi clan. He's homeless, but he's a skilled swordsman. I thought he could be of use to us."
Yeeming raised an eyebrow, his skepticism evident. "He doesn't look like much," he remarked coldly. "But if you vouch for him, I won't object. However, he will have to prove himself if he wishes to stay here."
Zihang stood silently, his mask hiding his emotions. He was used to judgment and ridicule, but this was his chance to start anew.
"I'll prove myself," he said firmly. "Thank you for giving me this opportunity."
Leeming smiled, his faith in Zihang unwavering. Together, they walked into the Jiang clan's territory, where Zihang's journey would take a new and unexpected turn.