All the people shuddered as the cold, authoritative voice reverberated through the air. The Priestess, masking her fear poorly, forced herself to speak, her voice trembling slightly. "Your Excellency," she began, "who are you, and what purpose brings you here?"
The mysterious man, cloaked in an aura of overwhelming power, ignored her questions. His piercing gaze swept over the crowd, his black eyes with golden pupils in the third eye glowing ominously. Suddenly, a burst of energy rippled from him, pushing everyone to their knees.
The air grew heavy as his expression darkened, and his voice boomed, laced with fury. "Hah! The world never changes. How ridiculous, how laughable! Power corrupts you mortals—you crave it endlessly, greedily, never satisfied. You harm the helpless, all in pursuit of fleeting desires. Your so-called Holy Church is an abomination and will cease to exist. The weight of your sins is so immense that even hell rejects you."
The color drained from every face in the crowd as terror took hold. The Priestess, overwhelmed by dread, felt a cold emptiness seep into her being. Her power—her hard-earned power—was slipping away, draining slowly but surely. She dropped to her knees, her composure shattered.
"Lord! Please, have mercy!" she cried, panic thick in her voice. "I am but a lowly human blinded by greed. I swear, I will never commit evil again! Spare me, and I will turn over a new leaf!"
Her pleas were desperate, but the mysterious man's expression remained unmoved. A cold, mirthless laugh escaped him. "Too late," he said, his voice cutting through her like a blade. "You sought immortality, didn't you? Then I shall grant your wish. For the next thousand years, you will live—sickly, weak, starving, and utterly despised. Kindness will suffocate you; no one will help you, no one will offer you relief. And when your thousand years of torment end, you will die slowly, your soul burned into oblivion."
The Priestess screamed in agony as her body began to wither. Her skin grew wrinkled, her bones frail. She coughed violently, gasping for air as her senses dulled and her energy vanished. Her once-commanding presence crumbled into a pitiable shell, barely able to move.
"Mercy, my Lord! I regret everything!" she wailed, knocking her head against the ground, her tears mixing with the dirt. But her pleas were in vain.
The mysterious man turned his attention to the trembling black-robed figures. His expression softened into a cold, disdainful smile. "As for you," he declared, "since you have served this 'Eradicator' with such zeal, you shall be rewarded accordingly. Your bodies and souls will burn in an inextinguishable fire for three years. This is your punishment."
With a gesture, an unholy flame engulfed the robed figures. They screamed in agony as the fire consumed them, their cries echoing in the air. "My word is law," the man proclaimed, his voice resonating with absolute authority. "My word is honor. My judgment is final, beyond question or appeal."
A transparent magic barrier enclosed the suffering figures, trapping them in their torment. As the fire raged, the mysterious man and his coffin vanished into thin air, leaving behind a scene of ruin and despair.
The Priestess, now a feeble, broken figure, crawled on the ground, gasping for breath. Death, once a feared end, had become her most precious and unattainable desire. She wept bitterly, cursing her past actions and longing to undo the atrocities she had committed in her blind pursuit of power.
On the bank of a river near a bustling village, the mysterious man awakened. He lay on the soft grass, disoriented. His eyes scanned the surroundings as he muttered, "My name… Liu Haoyu. Where am I? Who am I? What is this place?" Only his name surfaced from the fog of his memory. Confusion gripped him as he struggled to piece together his past.
The golden hues of dusk painted the sky as villagers carrying wooden buckets passed by, their curious gazes landing on the unfamiliar figure. Among them, a sturdy, kind-faced man approached. "Little brother, who are you?" he asked, his voice warm. "I've never seen you here before."
Liu Haoyu managed a faint smile. "My name is Liu Haoyu. I lost my way while traveling."
The man nodded thoughtfully. "I'm Li Dahong. Just call me Brother Li. Haoyu, why don't you stay at my house tonight? It's dangerous to wander around after dark. The forest nearby is full of wild beasts."
Liu Haoyu hesitated for a moment before bowing slightly. "Thank you, Brother Li. I'll gratefully accept your offer."
Li Dahong grinned. "No trouble at all! Come, I'll show you the way."
The two walked toward a small, modest wooden house nestled on the village outskirts. It was simple but tidy, exuding warmth. Li Dahong introduced Liu Haoyu to his wife, Ying Mei, who was busy preparing dinner in the kitchen. She greeted him with a cheerful smile, her kindness evident in her every gesture.
"You're welcome to stay as long as you need," Ying Mei said warmly, serving steaming bowls of rice and stew. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Liu Haoyu felt a flicker of comfort in the company of these kind strangers. Yet, deep within, unease lingered—a sense that his journey was far from over.
Liu Haoyu stayed peacefully at Li Dahong's home, finding solace in the warmth of the kind couple's hospitality. When they learned that he had lost his memory, Li Dahong and Ying Mei insisted that he remain with them until he was fully recovered. Their enthusiasm and care filled the emptiness in Liu Haoyu's heart, giving him a sense of belonging he hadn't realized he craved. Grateful and with nowhere else to go, he accepted their offer with a quiet smile.
Days turned into weeks, and Liu Haoyu gradually settled into life in the small village. He joined Li Dahong in working the fields, planting and harvesting crops under the vast, open sky. Though the work was labor-intensive, Liu Haoyu noticed something peculiar—his body seemed to possess boundless strength. No matter how hard he worked or how long the day stretched, he never felt exhaustion. His stamina was unmatched, and even Li Dahong marveled at his resilience.
"Haoyu, you're like an ox!" Li Dahong exclaimed one afternoon, laughing heartily as Liu Haoyu easily lifted a sack of grain that would have taken two men to carry. "You make me feel old with how tireless you are!"
Liu Haoyu chuckled softly, his humble demeanor masking his own confusion about his abilities. While he appreciated the physical work, a nagging thought lingered in the back of his mind: Why am I like this? Who was I before?
When not in the fields, Liu Haoyu helped Ying Mei with household chores. He carried buckets of water from the river, chopped firewood with precision, and even repaired the rickety fence surrounding their garden. Despite his reserved nature, his quiet dedication spoke volumes, and Ying Mei often praised his reliability.
"You've brought so much help to our little home," she said one evening, handing him a steaming bowl of soup. "We're lucky to have found you."
Liu Haoyu smiled faintly, grateful for their kindness. Yet, the gratitude in his heart was tinged with a faint melancholy—he had no identity, no memories, and no purpose. Staying with Li Dahong and Ying Mei offered him comfort, but it also deepened his yearning to uncover the truth about himself.
As the days passed, Liu Haoyu began interacting with the other villagers. Though he was not talkative, his ability to listen attentively and respond with sincerity endeared him to many. He observed their lives—their joys, struggles, and dreams—and found a simple beauty in their daily routines.
The children of the village were particularly fond of him. They would gather around him, asking endless questions and tugging at his sleeves to join their games. Liu Haoyu, initially hesitant, found himself smiling more in their company. Their laughter and innocence were a balm to his weary soul.
The adults, too, grew to appreciate him. "That Liu Haoyu is a good lad," an elderly farmer remarked one evening at the communal well. "Quiet, yes, but hard-working and kind-hearted. You don't see that often these days."
Despite his growing rapport with the villagers, Liu Haoyu remained an enigma to them. They respected his privacy, but whispers occasionally floated around about the mysterious stranger with incredible strength and no past. Liu Haoyu paid little heed to the murmurs, focusing instead on the present—the work, the people, and the fleeting moments of peace.
For the first time since awakening by the riverbank, Liu Haoyu felt a fragile sense of belonging. Yet, deep within, a storm brewed—a lingering uncertainty about his past and himself.