Sunrise arrived softly, brushing the world with a pale gold that barely warmed the cold, damp morning. Rain had fallen through the night, and the droplets still clung to the autumn leaves. The wind wandered through the trees, carrying that familiar scent of wet earth — the scent of a world both dying and renewing in every breath.
Another day.
Another time.
Another life.
Life was like this—full of moments that hurt, moments that healed, and moments that made one wonder what fate would toss next. Only excitement kept humans alive; curiosity kept the heart beating; hope made the spirit rise even when everything else fell.
Inside the small hut, warmth lingered. A pot simmered gently, the aroma of herbs and rice drifting in the air. Outside was chilling and damp, but in this tiny home… it felt like a safe corner of the world.
Zhung ate slowly at the table, a soft smile on his lips. His mother, Zheng Han, watched him quietly, her gaze warm yet tired. She always looked at him like she was seeing her entire reason for living.
"Mom…"
Zhung's voice was calm, gentle, but persistent.
"Where is dad actually?"
Her hands paused. She stiffened slightly.
"I know I asked you the same question for eight years."
His dark eyes locked onto hers.
"Please, mom. This time… please."
Zheng Han sighed deeply. The kind of sigh someone only makes after hiding a truth for too long. She looked directly into her son's eyes, seeing the stubbornness she inherited from him.
"Fine," she whispered. "You win."
Her voice trembled with a weight she had carried alone for years.
"I will tell you who your father is. He… he said he was a merchant."
The warm morning suddenly cooled. The hut felt colder, as if the rain outside had seeped through the walls and into their hearts.
And so she began to tell her story.
The Past — Zheng Han's Tale
"It was many years ago," she whispered, eyes staring into a memory so vivid it still hurt.
"You weren't born yet… I was just a girl taking care of my mother."
That day, the sky was dark long before evening. The storm clouds hung low, the mountain path drenched and slippery. Zheng Han had climbed up early morning to search for herbs — her mother had fallen sick again, coughing blood into her cloth.
"I couldn't wait," she murmured. "If I didn't find the herbs that day… she would've died."
The rain came down aggressively, drumming against the leaves, the stones, her skin. Wind sliced through the mountain trail. The world felt like a beast trying to kill her.
Still, she climbed.
Still, she searched.
Still, she endured.
After hours of searching, her fingers numb and trembling, she finally found the herbs she needed — clinging at the edge of a cliff, as stubborn as she was. She cut them quickly, tucked them into a pouch, and began to descend.
But halfway down the mountain path—
She saw him.
A man lay collapsed on the muddy road, soaked in rain, surrounded by blood that mixed with the stormwater and flowed downhill like a red stream. His chest had a massive slash across it — deep enough to kill, deep enough that anyone else would already be dead.
For a moment, she froze.
No sane person would approach such a scene.
No normal person would drag a stranger with a mortal wound into their home.
No common villager would risk everything.
But Zheng Han was not normal.
Her mother always said she had "a dangerous kindness."
And so she ran to him.
He was burning hot, trembling, but still alive. Barely.
She tore her own outer clothes to wrap the wound. She called out to him, slapped his cheek lightly. His eyelids fluttered open, revealing sharp, cold eyes — eyes used to commanding armies or hunting beasts.
"What… are you doing?"
he growled weakly.
"Saving you."
She answered gently.
"I didn't… ask…"
His voice hoarse.
"You don't need to ask."
She lifted him, half-dragging, half-carrying him down the slippery trail. Branches tore her arms, rocks cut her knee, mud coated her legs. The storm didn't stop, and neither did she.
By the time she reached the small hut, her arms were numb, her clothes soaked, her breath ragged — and he was unconscious again.
Her mother panicked when she saw him.
"A man?! Covered in blood?! Are you trying to get us killed?!"
"He needs help,"
Zheng Han insisted, voice steady despite everything.
"If he dies here, we will regret it forever."
Her mother cursed loudly — but she helped anyway.
They cleaned the wound, applied herbs, fed him bits of broth when he woke enough to drink. For two days he remained barely conscious. On the third day… he woke fully.
Hostile. Cold. Dangerous.
Those sharp eyes didn't miss anything in the hut. He looked like a trapped beast ready to break everything around him.
"Where am I?"
He demanded.
"In my house,"
Zheng Han said simply.
"You were dying on the mountain."
"I don't remember asking for help."
"You were unconscious."
He clicked his tongue, annoyed. But she wasn't scared. Strangely… that annoyed him even more.
"What's your name?" Zheng Han asked.
"…Gu Bai Hang."
A beat passed.
His lie was so obvious she almost laughed.
But she said nothing.
Her mother believed him, though.
Of course she did.
Gu Bai Hang looked like someone who could make lies reality.
He stayed in the hut while recovering. For the first week, he refused to speak much. He would sit quietly, watching the fire, watching Zheng Han, watching everything with a guarded expression.
He ate little. Slept lightly. Flinched at sudden sounds.
A man used to danger.
A man used to blood.
A man used to being hunted.
But he had moments — small moments — where she saw who he really was.
When he thought no one was looking, he would stare at the mountains with a longing expression.
Sometimes he touched the scar on his chest with a strange softness, like he was remembering someone.
And when Zheng Han brought him soup one night, he muttered a quiet:
"…Thank you."
That was the first time she saw him not as a dangerous stranger, but as a lonely man trying to survive a world too heavy for him.
And slowly…
She began to fall for him.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Quietly — like a leaf drifting down in autumn.
He was rude sometimes, arrogant often, but he was also understanding. When he helped with chores, he did so clumsily but stubbornly. He tried to fix the broken fence and broke it even more. He attempted to make rice and nearly burned the pot.
She laughed.
He pretended he wasn't embarrassed.
Her mother sighed.
A month passed.
His wound healed halfway.
His coldness softened.
His presence became familiar.
Then he left.
He didn't say goodbye. didn't explain.
He simply walked out of the hut early morning and disappeared down the trail.
Zheng Han tried not to care.
But her chest felt hollow all week.
Then, as fate would play its cruel jokes—
On the eighth day, her mother collapsed.
She coughed blood again.
The sickness returned harder than before.
Zheng Han searched for herbs, but the mountain was unforgiving. Rain kept falling. The wind howled. She slipped, scraped her knees, lost the herbs she gathered, and kept climbing anyway.
Her mother died that evening.
She remembered screaming.
She remembered falling to her knees.
She remembered holding her mother's cold hands until sunrise.
A week passed in darkness.
The world was quiet.
Too quiet.
But one night, when the moonlight shone through the cracks of the hut…
He returned.
Gu Bai Hang stood outside her door, drenched in mist, out of breath, looking like he had traveled from kingdoms away.
When he saw her crying, something inside him cracked.
And without saying a word, he held her.
He didn't comfort her with sweet lies.
He didn't promise things he couldn't keep.
He just stayed.
Silent.
Warm.
Steady.
That night, he became the light in her broken world.
And she… she became the one thing he couldn't let go of, no matter how cruel fate was.
Months passed.
Their days were filled with laughter.
Their nights with stories.
Their mornings with quiet moments of peace.
But Zheng Han always feared something.
"He's a merchant," she told herself. "One day he must leave."
And when that day came… she tried to be strong.
By the river bridge, under the moonlight, she told him:
"You should go. Your life is bigger than this small hut."
But when he turned to leave…
Her tears fell uncontrollably.
She ran to him, hugging him tightly, afraid he would vanish again.
He froze for a heartbeat.
Then his arms wrapped around her — firm, desperate, sincere.
He kissed her.
She kissed back.
The night held them in a gentle embrace.
They married quietly a year later.
Just the two of them.
Happiness blooming in their small world.
For two years, life was beautiful.
Until one day—
He said he had to leave for work.
And he never returned.
Zheng Han broke again.
Days turned into weeks.
Weeks into months.
Her belly grew.
Her grief grew.
Her hope died.
Then one evening, a messenger arrived.
"Your husband was killed. His body… was never found."
The world collapsed around her.
She almost gave up on life — she truly did.
But then she touched her belly.
She remembered that life inside her needed her.
And when Zhung was born… she felt her world heal, piece by piece.
"You were the greatest blessing ever given to me,"
Zheng Han whispered, tears flowing as she finished the story.
Zhung hugged his mother tightly, tears slipping from his own eyes.
"Mom… you suffered so much…"
She held him close, chin trembling.
"But it was all worth it. Because I have you."
Far Away — The Gue Empire
Inside a grand palace covered in shadows, a man signed documents with a heavy sigh. His face could not be seen clearly, obscured by darkness — but his silhouette radiated authority.
He was the Emperor of the Gue Empire.
"Report to me how the First Prince plans to handle the Iron Army incident," he ordered.
"Yes, Emperor Gue," the subordinate bowed and left swiftly.
The hall fell silent.
The emperor stood and walked to the balcony overlooking the cold mountains. Wind brushed his robes as he stared into the distance — towards a place far beyond his empire.
His voice broke the silence.
"I miss her…"
A rare vulnerability cracked through his tone.
"But I cannot drag her into this complicated life."
"I want to see her again… but I do not deserve to face her."
The rain began again, softly tapping against the palace roof.
He closed his eyes.
"Han… forgive me."
**Deep in The Forest**
We see Zhung wandering his thought's run wild.
*I kinda like this life, my parents are actually good people, and what a bummer that my father in this life passed away.*
*Then I Zhung Hang will protect my mother even heaven disagree.*
His grin his smile was straight up wanting to tear the heavens.
*I would climb at the top and crush heaven.*
Then he frowned suddenly his dark eyes became cold recalling in his security guard life were his parents were parasites wearing human skin.
Then Zhung raise up his head to see the sun, shining at the world his sign in relief that his parents are not monsters.
But his biggest problem is how to get strong?
Chi doesn't exist in this world.
He need Divine or Demonic Blood to open his Aperture.
But today he must lived peacefully.
For now.
**End of Chapter 5**