Yan Zi took his first step out of the clan gates, and the weight of the world seemed to press down on him. Each step was heavy, as though the very ground beneath him was trying to hold him back, to tether him to the life he was now forced to leave behind. But there was no turning back. His fists clenched tightly, his nails digging into his palms until they drew blood, the sharp pain grounding him amidst the storm raging in his heart.
As he walked, memories surged like an uncontrollable tide, threatening to overwhelm him. The courtyard where he had spent his childhood came to mind first—sunlit mornings playing with Yan Ling, her laughter echoing through the air like a melody. She had always been there, her presence a constant source of warmth and companionship. How could she turn away like that? he thought bitterly. The image of her back as she refused to look at him burned into his mind, a fresh wound on his already battered heart.
His steps faltered for a moment as he thought of his father, Yan Hong. The man who had been his anchor, his guide, his her his voice firm yet kind as he imparted lessons of honor and courage. But then, one day, he was simply gone. No explanation, no farewell. Just a gaping void that no amount of time could fill.
Yan Zi's jaw tightened as another memory rose, this time of his mother. Her once radiant face now etched with lines of sorrow, her proud posture bowed under the weight of shame. He recalled the day she had knelt before the clan leader, her voice trembling as she pleaded for him to stay in the clan. That image, of the strongest woman he knew brought so low, haunted him. She gave up everything for me, and yet… this is how it ends.
The sound of his boots crunching against the gravel seemed deafening in the oppressive silence. His mind wandered further, to the time he had spent with Yan Ru. The alchemy chamber came to life in his memories, the shelves lined with jars of herbs and elixirs, the faint smell of burning incense always lingering in the air. He could almost hear her voice again, clear and sweet. Those moments of shared learning and camaraderie had been a sanctuary for him. Now, her tear-streaked face was the last thing he would remember.
His shoulders sagged under the weight of it all—the disappearance of his father, the disgrace of his mother, and now his own banishment. The people he had called family, those with whom he had shared countless meals, festivals, and battles, had turned against him. So this is what it means to be alone, he thought, his lips curling into a bitter smile.
The gates of the Yan Clan loomed behind him, a silent reminder of everything he had lost. He didn't dare to look back. To look back was to acknowledge the finality of his exile, and he couldn't bear it. The shadows of the evening stretched long across the path ahead, swallowing him whole. Each step he took felt like walking into the abyss, yet he walked on, his resolve hardening with every stride.
In the distance, the last rays of sunlight disappeared, and Yan Zi's figure faded into the encroaching darkness. His fists remained clenched, his head held high despite the burden in his heart. He did not know what lay ahead, but he vowed that the world would one day remember his name.
The tension in the courtyard was palpable, a suffocating blanket over the clan as Yan Shengtian's voice cut through the silence. "There's nothing more to watch here," he declared, his tone cold and authoritative, each word a command that bore no room for defiance. "Return to your practices. The clan's prosperity depends on discipline, not idleness."
Disciples and elders exchanged uneasy glances, their murmurs barely audible as they hesitated to leave. Curiosity lingered in their eyes, but none dared to remain under the weight of their leader's glare. One by one, they dispersed, their hushed whispers echoing faintly.
Amid the dispersing crowd, Yan Bai remained kneeling on the cold stone ground. His shoulders hunched, his fists clenched so tightly that his nails dug into his palms, drawing thin lines of blood. His breaths came in shallow gasps as his rage and despair warred within him. His lips trembled, forming a single whispered promise, "Yan Zi… forgive me. As your uncle, I've failed you… but one day, I will avenge this humiliation. This clan will regret casting you aside."
Nearby, Elder Gong watched him with an amused smirk, his arms crossed as if enjoying the sight of Yan Bai's suffering. With calculated arrogance, he approached the kneeling man, his steps slow and deliberate. "Ha, haha," he chuckled, his voice dripping with mockery. "Yan Bai, look at you. Pathetic. Kneeling here as if that will change anything. If I were you, I'd leave this place now while you still have some dignity left."
Yan Bai's head snapped up, his eyes blazing with fury as he glared at Elder Gong. His lips parted to retort, but before he could speak, the elder leaned in closer, his tone dropping to a venomous whisper. "You should go before I lose my patience," he said, his eyes glinting with malice. "I can't guarantee what might happen to you otherwise."
Yan Bai's whole body trembled with barely restrained anger. His fists shook, his knuckles white from the force of his grip. Yet he knew that acting on his emotions now would be reckless. With great effort, he lowered his gaze, biting back the seething words that threatened to escape his lips.
Elder Gong straightened, his smirk widening as he turned on his heel and strode away, his laughter echoing like a haunting refrain. Yan Bai could do nothing but watch him leave, the sting of helplessness cutting deeper than any blade.
Not far from the center of the courtyard, Yan Ru stood frozen in place. Her tears fell freely, glistening trails streaking her pale cheeks. The sight of Yan Zi's battered figure retreating from the gates replayed in her mind, each step he took a dagger twisting in her heart. Her hands trembled as she clenched them into fists, her nails digging into her palms in a futile attempt to contain her emotions.
Elder Gaung, her father, approached her with a stern expression. His presence was a cold shadow looming over her fragile state. "Yan Ru," he said sharply, his voice slicing through the air like a blade. "Enough of this. You've embarrassed yourself and me long enough. This matter is over."
Yan Ru turned to him, her tear-filled eyes wide with disbelief. "Father…" she whispered, her voice cracking.
Elder Gaung's gaze hardened. "You will go into seclusion for a time," he ordered. "It will give you the clarity you need to forget him. Calm your emotions and focus on your cultivation."
"Forget him?" she echoed, her voice trembling. Her lips quivered as she struggled to process his words.
"Yes," Elder Gaung said firmly. "Forget him. Yan Zi is no longer part of the clan. He is no longer anything to you. Do not disgrace yourself—or me—by clinging to someone who has been cast out. Your future lies elsewhere."
Her father's words struck her like a thunderclap, shattering the fragile hope she had clung to. Tears welled in her eyes once more, and her shoulders sagged under the weight of his expectations. Unable to defy him, she bowed her head low, her voice barely audible as she whispered, "Yes, Father."
Elder Gaung nodded, satisfied. "Good. Go now," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
With her head still bowed, Yan Ru turned and began walking away. Her steps were heavy and reluctant, her tears falling silently onto the stone ground. The image of Yan Zi's departure was etched into her mind, a painful memory she knew would never truly fade.
Yan Bai, still kneeling, watched her retreating figure with a pained expression. He wanted to comfort her, to tell her she wasn't alone in her grief, but his own helplessness kept him rooted in place. His gaze shifted to the gates where Yan Zi had disappeared, his heart aching with a mix of guilt and determination. They've all turned their backs on him, he thought bitterly. But I won't. Not entirely. One day, Yan Zi, I'll make this right.
The courtyard, once bustling with whispers and tension, now stood eerily silent. The echoes of Yan Zi's departure lingered like a haunting melody, a reminder of the cost of pride and power in a world that left no room for weakness.