The pale gray sky stretched endlessly above, streaked with hints of pink and gold as dawn crept silently over the rugged mountains. The dense forest surrounding Obsidian Peak Sect was shrouded in a misty veil, ghostly tendrils weaving through the trees, casting shadows that danced ominously in the early morning light.
Through this bleak, uncertain landscape, Shen Zhenhai wandered aimlessly, barely recognizable as the dignified Master Shen who once commanded respect and awe across the cultivation world. Now he was a broken figure—disheveled, haggard, and visibly trembling from a mixture of exhaustion and desperation. His luxurious robes, once immaculate symbols of his status, now hung from his frame in filthy, torn tatters, stained with dirt and grime from days spent fleeing through rugged terrain.
His mind was shattered—flashes of anger, humiliation, and madness flickered chaotically, leaving his consciousness fragmented. Rage consumed him, bitterness festering in his chest like a poisoned wound. Yin Shuang had humiliated him thoroughly, exposing his schemes and reducing him to this pitiable state. Yet his fury burned brightest against Kai Feng, whose intervention had shifted the balance decisively against him. To Shen's twisted logic, Kai was responsible for his defeat, for the unraveling of his carefully constructed world.
Driven by this vengeful impulse, Shen had dragged his battered body through wilderness and thickets, intent on reaching Obsidian Peak Sect to exact retribution. Yet as days passed, his original purpose blurred into a haze of incoherent rage, his thoughts growing increasingly disjointed.
Now, standing at the edge of the sect's outer boundary, Shen wavered unsteadily, hunger gnawing painfully at his stomach. He staggered forward blindly, oblivious to the scratches from branches clawing at his face and limbs, his mouth dry, his breathing ragged.
His mind swirled chaotically, filled with half-formed delusions of vengeance and fragments of broken pride. He'd lost everything—his prestige, disciples, power, and the precious Peerless Sword. The shame gnawed at his sanity, eating away his reason until all that remained was a hollow shell driven only by a blind, savage urge for vengeance.
Yet, just as his knees were about to buckle from exhaustion, a small wooden structure caught his eye through the trees—a humble hut standing isolated in a clearing, its rough timbers and thatched roof blending naturally into the quiet surroundings. His eyes lit with a faint glimmer of hope—perhaps food, shelter, or even aid might be found within.
Summoning his remaining strength, Shen stumbled toward the hut. But as he emerged from the shadows of the forest, he froze abruptly. A young woman was walking toward the hut from another direction, her slender figure silhouetted gracefully against the dawn. She carried a basket in her hands, humming softly as she approached, utterly oblivious to his presence.
Shen's eyes narrowed suspiciously, studying the young woman carefully. Her robes, modest yet elegant, suggested she was no mere peasant. But it was her innocence and youthful beauty that caught his attention. In his deranged state, suspicion and opportunity mingled in his mind.
Meng Yao continued to approach the hut cheerfully, her soft footsteps gentle against the morning dew. She had risen early, spending hours meticulously preparing food to aid Han Long's recovery. Her heart felt lighter today, her gentle affection for Han now blossoming softly in her chest, warmed by the memory of their tender exchanges over the past weeks.
As she neared the hut, her gaze landed suddenly on Shen's ragged figure standing silently at the clearing's edge. Meng Yao halted abruptly, momentarily startled by the stranger's disheveled and pitiful appearance. Her instinctive wariness quickly softened into compassion upon noting his haggard state, his emaciated form swaying dangerously.
"Sir," she called softly, her gentle voice carrying warmly across the clearing. "Are you lost? Do you need help?"
Shen stared at her silently for a long moment, distrust warring with desperate hunger. Finally, realizing she posed no immediate threat, he nodded weakly, feigning humility. "I… I have traveled far. I'm exhausted… hungry."
Meng Yao approached carefully, compassion evident in her gentle eyes. "You poor man, come here. I have fresh food I prepared this morning. It's simple, but it will restore your strength."
She led him gently toward a small wooden table positioned outside the hut, where Han occasionally sat during brief moments of recovery. Meng Yao helped Shen into a seat, her movements careful yet confident. Opening the basket, she revealed steamed buns, neatly wrapped rice parcels, and slices of fresh fruit.
Shen's eyes lit hungrily, his dignity momentarily forgotten as he began devouring the food greedily, scarcely chewing. Meng Yao sat quietly beside him, watching sympathetically, heart aching at his obvious suffering.
After several moments of eating ravenously, Shen paused abruptly, eyes narrowing thoughtfully as his gaze shifted toward Meng Yao.
"Why do you show such kindness to a stranger?" Shen rasped suspiciously, unable to fully trust her generosity.
Meng Yao smiled gently, shaking her head slightly. "Because it's the right thing to do. A dear friend taught me compassion, even toward strangers."
"Your friend?" Shen repeated quietly, sensing opportunity. "Who might this compassionate individual be?"
Meng Yao's eyes softened instantly, warmth suffusing her features. "Kai Feng, from Obsidian Peak Sect. He's strong, kind, always helping those in need."
Shen's fingers clenched involuntarily, fury rising swiftly at Kai's mention. Yet he kept his voice controlled, prompting carefully. "Kai Feng? You speak of him so fondly. Would he truly go to great lengths to help you?"
Meng Yao nodded without hesitation, eyes shining with confidence. "Absolutely. Kai is noble-hearted, loyal, and compassionate. He's always willing to help others. I believe he would protect me from any harm."
At her words, Shen's thoughts turned darkly. Here was an opportunity to strike at Kai's heart—to wound him deeply by taking something precious. Meng Yao clearly meant a great deal to Kai, perhaps even love. If Shen could seize her, he could use her to force Kai into confrontation, or at least cause him deep pain.
Slowly, feigning gratitude, Shen rose unsteadily, subtly positioning himself closer to Meng Yao. "You've been most kind. Truly generous. But perhaps you could help me once more…"
Meng Yao looked up innocently, concerned yet unaware of the danger building quietly beside her. "Of course. What else do you need?"
Without warning, Shen's hand shot out abruptly, seizing Meng Yao's wrist roughly in an iron grip. She cried out sharply, eyes wide with startled fear.
"What are you doing? Let me go!" Meng Yao protested, struggling desperately against Shen's relentless hold.
Shen's voice dropped to a venomous hiss, his polite façade vanishing instantly. "Kai Feng thinks he's invincible. But now I have something precious of his. He'll learn what it truly means to suffer!"
Meng Yao's heart pounded furiously, panic surging violently. She screamed again, pleading desperately, voice rising sharply in terror. "Please let me go! You're mistaken—I'm nothing to Kai! Please!"
Inside the hut, Han Long stirred restlessly in bed, awakened suddenly by Meng Yao's frightened screams piercing through the morning air. His eyes snapped open immediately, body tensing sharply, heart hammering in alarm.
"Meng Yao?" he whispered fearfully, already struggling painfully from bed despite his injuries, his muscles protesting violently as he stumbled toward the door. Dizziness swept through him sharply, yet he forced himself onward.
Outside, Shen had already begun dragging Meng Yao roughly toward the forest. She fought desperately, crying out repeatedly. "Han! Help me!"
Han stumbled outside just as Shen vanished swiftly into the trees, Meng Yao struggling violently yet helplessly in his grasp.
"No!" Han shouted hoarsely, fear and desperation fueling his weakened body. "Meng Yao!"
Yet Shen was already disappearing rapidly into the forest's shadowed depths. Han staggered forward futilely, collapsing onto his knees in despair. Meng Yao's screams echoed hauntingly through the trees, fading cruelly into silence.
Han knelt helplessly in the clearing, agony ripping through his chest far worse than any physical wound. Despair filled him utterly, mingled with burning shame. Meng Yao—precious, gentle Meng Yao—had trusted him, yet he failed her utterly.