Chapter 8: The Weight of the Path
Baifang walked deeper into the forest, his heart still heavy with the weight of his aunt's lifeless body in his arms. His breath was ragged, his chest rising and falling with each step. The rage that had consumed him just moments ago had not dissipated—it had only grown, twisting like a knot deep inside him. His thoughts were a whirlwind of anger, loss, and the lingering question of how he could ever reconcile what he had become with the person he once was.
He had killed. He had taken a life.
But it hadn't been enough. The feeling of Qi surging through his body, an energy that he had consumed in his rage, had only amplified his fury. The more he absorbed, the more he craved, and with each act of violence, it felt as if his very soul was being eroded. He didn't know if he could stop. If he could go back.
"I will find her," he muttered to himself, clenching his jaw as he walked. "I will find Xiaomei. No matter what."
He had to. His sister, the last remaining family he had, had been taken. Taken by the Zhao family's men—he was certain of it now. He had seen them, heard their words of cruelty and greed. The thought of her suffering, of her being sold, gnawed at his insides like a thousand rats. It was the one thought that kept him moving, kept him from collapsing under the weight of his grief.
But what about Auntie Zhou? What about all the others?
He squeezed his eyes shut as he walked, trying to force the image of his aunt's cold body from his mind. She had been a mother to him, a guiding hand. She had protected him when he had nothing. And now, she was gone, her life taken just like that, without reason. He could still hear the sickening crack of her neck, the way she had slumped to the ground, lifeless.
Baifang's fists clenched tighter around the fabric of her tunic as he walked, his face contorted in pain.
Why? Why did it have to be like this? Why couldn't he have just stayed out of it? Why couldn't he have let the world pass him by?
But he knew the answer. He could never do that. Not after what had happened to his aunt, and certainly not after what they had done to his sister. He had to act. He had to become stronger. No matter the cost.
As the forest grew denser, the soft glow of moonlight barely penetrating the thick canopy, Baifang heard a rustling nearby. He paused, narrowing his eyes. Was it another hunter? Another shadow wolf, perhaps? But no—it wasn't the same familiar weight in the air, the way the Qi pulsed around the creature's presence. This was something else.
A figure stepped from the darkness, and Baifang immediately tensed, his mind reaching for the strength he had stolen so easily before.
But the person did not attack. They did not even seem to notice him at first. Instead, the woman—a stranger, dressed in robes that were not from his village—seemed lost in thought as she gazed at the moonlit sky. Her movements were deliberate, slow, as though she was accustomed to walking these woods. She turned, sensing his presence, and their eyes met.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air felt thick with tension, the forest eerily silent around them. The woman's gaze was sharp, but there was something in her eyes—something ancient and knowing—that made Baifang pause.
"You're far from home," she said softly, her voice calm and measured.
Baifang said nothing. He didn't trust her, but he wasn't in a position to start a fight either. His energy was waning, and the weight of Auntie Zhou's body was starting to take a toll on him. He couldn't afford to waste his strength.
"Who are you?" Baifang asked, trying to keep his voice steady. "What do you want?"
The woman studied him for a long moment, her eyes flicking to the bundle in his arms, then to the darkening sky. "I know what you are," she said finally, her tone almost sad. "I know what you've been doing."
Baifang's heart skipped a beat. She was talking about the Qi. The Qi he had consumed, the power that had coursed through him, filling him with rage. It was like she could see straight through him, all the way to his soul. He stepped back, gripping the bundle of his aunt tighter.
"Stay away from me," Baifang growled, taking another step back.
But the woman only smiled, her expression a strange mix of pity and understanding. "You cannot run from yourself," she said softly, almost as if she were speaking to herself. "The more you consume, the more it consumes you. The rage, the anger—it will swallow you whole."
"I don't need your pity," Baifang snapped, feeling the hot surge of anger rise in his chest again. He couldn't help it. It was the rage that had become part of him now, part of who he was. "I'll do whatever it takes to get her back. My sister... you don't know what they've done."
"I do," the woman replied, her voice firm. "But you must understand—there is a price. The power you seek is not without cost. It will change you, Baifang. It will change you into something... else."
Baifang froze. How did she know his name? Had she been watching him? Following him?
"What do you mean by that?" Baifang demanded. "What do you know about me? Who are you?"
The woman let out a sigh and stepped closer, her eyes never leaving his. "I know that you are like many who have come before you. You seek power. You seek revenge. You think you can control it, but you can't. The Qi will control you, and soon, you'll forget what it was you were fighting for. You'll become the very thing you hate."
Baifang's chest tightened, and he clenched his jaw. The words felt like a cold wind biting at him, but he couldn't stop himself. "I'll never become like them. Never."
"You're already on the path," she said quietly, shaking her head. "But you can still turn back. You don't have to do this. Not all power is worth the price."
Baifang's eyes narrowed. "What are you trying to say?"
She met his gaze, and for the first time, Baifang saw something in her eyes. It wasn't pity. It was sorrow. She had lived this, felt the same pull of power, and had made the same choices. But she had survived. And now, she was trying to save him from the same fate.
"Leave the forest," she said softly. "Go back to your village. Find another way. If you continue on this path, it will end in destruction. I've seen it before."
Baifang stood in silence, the weight of her words pressing down on him. He didn't want to listen. He didn't want to admit that she might be right. But the anger inside him—the rage that had led him here, that had driven him to this moment—was beginning to subside. He could feel the last remnants of his aunt's Qi, still tingling in his veins, urging him forward. The thirst was there, sharp and insatiable.
But something else, a flicker of doubt, lingered too. Could he really continue down this path? Could he keep absorbing Qi, keep feeding this anger and hate, until he was nothing more than a monster?
"You're right," Baifang said finally, his voice barely a whisper. "But I still need to find my sister. I will do whatever it takes to get her back. I don't care what it costs."
The woman watched him for a moment longer, then nodded. "I can't stop you, but remember this—every choice you make from here on will take you further from the person you were. Choose wisely."
With that, she turned and disappeared into the darkness, leaving Baifang alone with his thoughts. His heart was heavy, the weight of his aunt's death pressing down on him. But his sister... He couldn't leave her. He wouldn't.
As he continued walking, his footsteps slow and heavy, a part of him wondered if he had already made his choice. Could he turn back? Could he stop himself from falling into the same darkness that had consumed so many before him?
The answer came not in words, but in the steady pulse of Qi within him. He was already too far gone.