The night was colder than it had ever been before. Hua'an Village, once a peaceful home to simple farmers and merchants, now lay under the shadow of an impending doom. The full moon hung high above, casting pale light over the streets, where the faint cries of distant animals mingled with the eerie silence that had settled over the land. Zhao Fei stood in the middle of the village, his breath shallow, his eyes wide and unfocused. His body trembled, not from the cold, but from the shock of what had just unfolded before him.
Blood stained his hands, his clothes. It was his father's blood.
Zhao Yun, his father, the man who had taught him the value of kindness, of hard work, and who had always guided him with wisdom, now lay still at his feet. The once mighty farmer, a pillar of the village, now reduced to a lifeless form, his eyes wide in surprise, frozen in the shock of his final moments.
Zhao Fei's heart raced, his mind still struggling to comprehend the chaos that had unfolded in mere hours. The bandits had come suddenly, without warning, and without mercy. There had been no time to prepare, no time to fight back. His father had taken a stand, trying to protect his family, trying to keep Zhao Fei and his mother safe. But it had been useless. The bandits had struck swiftly, their blades cutting down anyone who dared oppose them.
Tears welled up in Zhao Fei's eyes, but he couldn't find the strength to cry. He had never seen death before. He had never known the true weight of losing someone so dear, so close. It felt like the world was spinning, like his very existence was being pulled apart.
"Father…" The word came out as a strangled whisper, barely escaping his lips. He reached out, trembling, but stopped short of touching his father's face. The coldness of death seemed to seep into his very bones, stopping him from crossing that final boundary.
He didn't know how long he stood there, frozen in place, staring down at his father's lifeless body. Time felt like it had stopped, leaving him suspended in an eternal moment of grief and disbelief. The sound of his own ragged breathing was the only thing that filled his ears, until another sound reached him.
The faint, unsettling laughter of the bandits.
Zhao Fei's head snapped up, his heart skipping a beat. The sounds of violence, of destruction, were still echoing through the village. His father was dead, but the terror was far from over. His mother — she was still out there. She was still in danger.
"Mother!" he cried out, his voice raw. He turned to run, but the world felt like it was pressing in on him. Every step felt heavier than the last, and yet, there was no time to stop, no time to think. He had to protect her. He had to be strong for her.
The small cottage on the edge of the village loomed ahead, the light from the window flickering like a fragile beacon in the dark. He didn't know how long it would last. The bandits were closing in, and the village was falling apart. But his mother, Lianhua, was waiting. She was still alive. He had to get to her.
Zhao Fei's heart raced, his pulse pounding in his ears. He reached the door of the cottage, his hands shaking as he grasped the handle. With one quick motion, he threw the door open, revealing his mother standing inside, her face pale, her eyes wide with fear.
"Fei!" she gasped, her voice trembling with a mixture of relief and dread. "Where is your father? What happened? Why is it so quiet outside?"
Her words cut through him like a blade. She hadn't yet seen the destruction, hadn't yet realized that Zhao Yun — his father — was gone. She was still in the dark, still clinging to a shred of hope, a hope that Zhao Fei could no longer share.
"Mother…" Zhao Fei whispered, his voice hollow. He took a step forward, his eyes not meeting hers. "He's gone. They killed him."
The words felt foreign coming out of his mouth, and yet they were the truth. The weight of them hung in the air like a suffocating fog. His mother took a step back, her hand trembling as she covered her mouth.
"No…" she whispered. "No, it can't be true. Fei, tell me it's not true…"
But Zhao Fei didn't have the words to offer her. He couldn't console her. His own heart was breaking into pieces, and there was no room left to mend hers.
The silence stretched on between them, broken only by the distant sounds of the bandits approaching. But Zhao Fei could feel something else stirring inside him, something dark, something that had awakened in the moment of his father's death.
The voice came again, deep and resonant, like an echo from the depths of his soul. "You are weak. Weakness will bring nothing but more death. If you wish to protect her, to avenge him, you must embrace power. You must become more than you are."
The words sent a shiver down his spine, but there was no fear. Only the gnawing hunger that had taken root deep inside his chest.
Zhao Fei clenched his fists, the blood of his father still fresh on his skin. His body trembled, but it was no longer from grief. It was from the energy, the hunger that surged through him. Power. He needed power. He needed to become something greater than this fragile, mortal boy.
He could hear his mother's voice, calling his name, but it felt distant, as though it were coming from another world. He turned to face her, his eyes empty, hollow.
"Stay here, Mother," he said, his voice cold, detached. The words felt like they were coming from someone else. "I'll take care of this. I'll protect you."
Lianhua stepped forward, her eyes wide with panic. "No! Fei, don't—"
But Zhao Fei was already moving. He didn't look back as he stepped out of the cottage and into the darkness of the night. The bandits were near. And they would soon learn the price of their actions.
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The hunger for power pulsed within him, growing with every step, every breath. And as he stepped into the night, a new path unfolded before him — a path that would lead him far from the boy he had once been.
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End of Chapter 2