The moon hung low in the sky, its silver light spilling over the quiet valley where the Hua family resided. Their home, nestled amidst the lush greenery of the Verdant Wood, was a sanctuary of warmth and love. The laughter of a family echoed through the night, a melody of joy that seemed untouched by the chaos of the outside world.
Hua Lianxin, only nine years old, sat cross-legged on the wooden floor, his small hands clutching a brush as he carefully traced characters onto parchment. His mother, Hua Meiyu, watched him with a gentle smile, her hands busy weaving a new robe for her husband. Across the room, Hua Tianfeng, his father, leaned back in his chair, recounting tales of his younger days as a True God. His voice was rich with pride, though tinged with the weariness of a man who had seen too much.
"Father, tell me again how you defeated the Crimson Serpent!" Lianxin's eyes sparkled with admiration as he looked up from his writing.
Tianfeng chuckled, his deep voice resonating through the room. "Ah, the Crimson Serpent... That was a battle of wits as much as strength. But remember, Lianxin, power alone is never enough. It is the heart that guides the blade."
Beside him, Hua Lianxin's elder sister, Hua Yuelin, laughed softly. At seventeen, she was the pride of the family, her beauty and grace unmatched. "Lianxin, you should focus on your writing. One day, you'll have your own stories to tell."
The warmth of the moment was shattered by a sudden, chilling wind that swept through the house. The candles flickered, their flames struggling against the encroaching darkness. Tianfeng's expression hardened as he rose to his feet, his hand instinctively reaching for the sword that hung on the wall.
"They've found us," he muttered, his voice low and tense.
Before anyone could react, the door burst open, and a figure stepped inside. The man was cloaked in black, his eyes glowing with an unnatural light. Behind him, more figures emerged, their presence suffocating, their aura reeking of death and malice.
"Retired True God Hua Tianfeng," the man sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "The ruler of Moeji Continent sends his regards."
Tianfeng's grip on his sword tightened. "Wu Changkong... even in his cowardice, he sends others to do his bidding."
The man laughed, a sound devoid of humanity. "You should have stayed hidden, old man. Killing the son of a Primordial God has consequences."
The battle that followed was swift and brutal. Tianfeng fought valiantly, his blade a blur of light and steel, but his age and injuries betrayed him. Hua Meiyu joined the fray, her own skills as a cultivator shining through, but they were outnumbered and outmatched.
Lianxin watched in horror from the shadows where his mother had hidden him. His small hands clutched the edge of the wooden panel, his heart pounding as he witnessed the unimaginable. His father fell first, his body crumpling to the ground as the cultists' blades pierced his chest. His mother followed, her final scream echoing through the night as she shielded Yuelin with her own body.
But it was Yuelin's fate that shattered Lianxin's soul. The cult leader approached her, his smile twisted and cruel. He whispered words that Lianxin couldn't hear, but the look of terror and betrayal on Yuelin's face was enough. The man reached out, his hand brushing against her cheek before plunging his blade into her heart.
Lianxin bit down on his lip to stifle his scream, tears streaming down his face as he watched his sister collapse. The warmth of her smile, the light in her eyes—gone in an instant.
When the cultists finally left, the house was silent. The bodies of his family lay motionless, their blood staining the wooden floor. Lianxin crawled out from his hiding place, his small frame trembling as he approached his mother's lifeless form.
"Mama... Papa... Yuelin..." His voice was barely a whisper, choked with grief.
He knelt beside them, his tiny hands clutching his mother's cold fingers. The world around him blurred, the weight of his loss pressing down on him like a crushing tide. In that moment, something inside him broke—a fragile innocence shattered beyond repair.
The stars above seemed to weep, their light dimming as if mourning the tragedy that had unfolded. And in the heart of the Verdant Wood, a nine-year-old boy vowed to survive, to endure, and to one day rise above the gods who had stolen everything from him.