Dum
Dum
Dum
The deep, steady thud of drums rolled through Gu Yue Village, spreading like a slow vibration under the air.
People emerged from their homes as the caravan finally came into sight, some letting their shoulders drop in relief at the chance to sell their goods, others tightening with anticipation, already calculating what they might gain if they managed to obtain a useful Gu.
From his window, Fang Yuan watched their reactions with mild interest.
What they felt didn't matter, but it amused him how predictable everyone remained.
His eyes shifted to the line of traveling Gu Houses advancing down the main path.
'So they finally showed up,' he thought, resting his fingers against the windowsill.
It had been two days since he shattered Fang Zheng's spirit.
And for the last two days, Fang Yuan had not yet started refining the red steel relic Gu, but instead stablized his own cultivation.
And now, the caravan's steady movement sparked a faint response in him—not excitement, not tension, but a marker.
This is the moment the rest of them won't notice until it's too late.
The Gu Houses drew closer, their presence spreading a low hum of energy across the village.
Fang Yuan's gaze followed them, taking in each detail, the rhythm of their movement, the timing. Everything aligned with the preparations he had set.
He breathed out slowly, letting the air leave him in a measured stream.
'It's almost time,' he thought.
'The pieces are already falling exactly where they should.'
Closing his eyes, he allowed the calm certainty to settle.
'It was always going to turn out this way.'
...
Knock
Knock
A soft knock echoed on Fang Zheng's door.
"Young master, Madam is asking you to come down for lunch," the maid called from the hallway.
Fang Zheng stood by the window, his eyes fixed on the passing caravan outside. His face was a blank mask, empty of the brightness it once had.
After a moment, he turned away from the scene and moved to the door.
The latch clicked as he opened it.
"…Alright," he said quietly.
The maid stepped aside, and he walked past her without meeting her eyes. His steps were slow, almost mechanical, as he made his way toward the dining room.
Downstairs, Jiaying was already seated at the dining table. Her posture stiffened when she saw him, but Fang Zheng noticed none of it.
His gaze drifted toward the chair meant for Fang Yuan and noticed it was empty.
But, his expression didn't change as he took his seat.
He didn't look at his mother. He didn't look at the food. His gaze sank to his feet, dull and unfocused, as if that small corner of the world was the only thing that didn't hurt to exist in.
Because everything else did.
Ever since he witnessed what happened to Shen Cui, something in him had collapsed.
The memory—the raw terror, the helplessness in her eyes, the way she was raped while he couldn't even scream—it had lodged itself inside him like a blade he couldn't pull out.
It replayed behind his eyelids without mercy, each repetition stripping away another piece of who he used to be.
The shock had been unbearable.
The grief was worse.
But the true horror was the lingering belief that he should have done something, anything… yet had been powerless.
He was completely powerless.
The thought of ending it all had stalked him for days, whispering to him in the dark.
The notion of ending his own life all had almost become comforting, but when he confronted the thought itself, he found he was too afraid to take the final step.
So..., he didn't fight back his emotions.
He simply… stopped.
Stopped caring.
Stopped resisting the pain swallowing him whole.
Stopped imagining a future.
And stopped... hoping.
The pain wouldn't let him breathe, and the memory of Shen Cui's rape felt like a knife twisting inside him.
The worst part—the part he could never escape—was the connection to Fang Yuan.
The brother he once admired, relied on, practically worshipped… now felt like the source of every violent emotion tearing him apart.
Trust had curdled into hatred.
Admiration had dissolved into a deep, festering resentment.
And worst of all, the one person he used to look up to had become a reminder of everything he had lost.
If he could make Fang Yuan vanish, he would. If he could wish his brother into a brutal end, he wouldn't hesitate.
But wishing meant nothing.
Because, Fang Yuan is a Gu Master.
While, he, Fang Zheng is just a mortal who couldn't even protect the girl he loved.
Yeah, Fang Yuan was a Gu Master—a step above him, a wall likes of him could never climb. While, he is just a mortal drowning in his own despair.
So he let himself sink.
Let the hopelessness swallow him.
Jiaying watched her son's distant, crumbling expression and tried to sound gentle.
"Zheng'er… we'll be moving out in a few months."
"You'll have a fresh start, then."
She hesitated, then added with forced warmth, "And don't linger on Shen Cui. I'll find someone far better for you."
The moment her words landed, Fang Zheng's jaw went rigid.
His throat tightened painfully as memories he had been trying to bury surged back—the moment Shen Cui pleaded for help, the terror in her voice, the way everything was stolen from her while he stood powerless.
The weight of that day crushed him from the inside out.
But Jiaying didn't notice the storm tightening behind his eyes.
She kept speaking, unaware of the tremor building in his chest.
"Your brother said that—"
Thump.
Clink.
Clink.
The sound tore through the dining room as Fang Zheng slammed his fist onto the table.
The impact rattled the cutlery, jolting everything around him. His eyes lifted, red and inflamed, crashing into Jiaying's soft, caring gaze.
"Don't," he whispered—broken, breathless.
Tears spilled instantly, streaking down his face before he could stop them.
He scrubbed at them with the sleeve of his robe, desperate to erase any sign of weakness.
"Don't… please don't," he repeated, voice trembling, barely holding itself together.