Chapter 21 - 21

🥀 To Bleed in Her Place

"Yuyu!" Qian'ai and Tian Ke shouted urgently, dread flooding their voices. They prayed she wouldn't hurt herself in her fury. Hao Jian froze as his gaze locked onto Yun Yuhua with a cold, mocking intensity. Cheng Yi winced, unable to stay silent, and dropped to his knees.

"Ba... Leave them alone," he begged with his voice cracking. "If you want me, I'll go with you. I'll beg the emperor to forgive you... Just... leave them out of this."

Qian'ai and Tian Ke exchanged a pained glance, but Qian'ai's focus shifted to Hao Jian. His eyes. They were all too familiar. Why did they burn with such a haunting rage?

"You..." Qian'ai's voice trembled with fury. "You... killed our mother, didn't you?" The realization hit him like a wave.

Hao Jian glanced down at him, a cruel smirk curling his lips. "Her daughter... just like her. A shame she died so easily. But now, her daughter can take her place. Perfectly."

Qian'ai's eyes narrowed, his heart pounding with rage. "You are the monster who destroyed our family," he spat, disgust coating every word.

Tian Ke echoed him, quivering with disbelief and anger. "You... you killed her?"

Yun Yuhua's fear shifted abruptly into seething fury. The betrayal stung deep, and she turned to face Hao Jian with her eyes burning with hatred. Cheng Yi lost in the storm of emotion around him, could only watch, helpless.

"Monster!" Yun Yuhua hissed, her blade flashing to life as she lunged at Hao Jian. Her every movement was fueled by the desire to make him pay.

Hao Jian danced just out of her reach, smirking widely with each evasion. He knew her anger would make her reckless, and he waited for the moment to strike. He reached for her as she surged forward, seizing her wrist with a swift, cruel grip.

But before he could pull her away, a blur of motion intervened. A sword blocked Hao Jian's path, its cold steel gleaming with deadly intent. It was Zhiyong. In a single movement, he shoved Hao Jian back and pulled Yun Yuhua into his protective embrace.

"Ba!" The children cried as their voices a mix of fear and hope.

Zhiyong's eyes blazed with fury as he glared at Hao Jian. Recognition flickered in his gaze. "How dare you touch my daughter?" he growled, his voice a low, lethal promise.

Hao Jian glared at Zhiyong—the man who stole everything from him. Bloodied and breathless, Hao Jian forced himself upright, never once breaking eye contact. His movements were slow and deliberate, his madness simmering just beneath the surface.

Behind Zhiyong, Yun Yuhua stepped forward with her voice trembling through a smile.

"You really came..." she whispered, her tone soft but charged. Zhiyong lowered his sword, its tip grazing the ground as he stared down Hao Jian with quiet fury.

"I told you I'd come... I just didn't expect to find such ruin waiting for me."

Yun Yuhua's smile faltered. She glared at Hao Jian as her hands trembled at her sides. "You've taken enough."

"Ba..." Tian Ke stood as his voice was laced with fury. He reached back and took the sword from Yun Yuhua's hands, steadying it purposefully. "Let's take revenge."

Qian'ai rose beside him, fists clenched, though his blade remained on the ground.

"He stole Mother from us. We'll do whatever it takes to make it right."

Zhiyong's gaze softened at the mention of Xian Lian. A faint smile touched his lips, wistful and aching. Then it vanished.

"No," he said, stepping forward. "This is between him and me. You boys—stay back. Protect Yun Yuhua."

Tian Ke hesitated. Qian'ai looked like he might protest. But they both nodded, stepping in front of Yun Yuhua, shielding her with their bodies like young wolves guarding their own. Zhiyong stepped forward, eyes locked on the man he had never trusted—a man whose very existence soured the air around him. Every encounter they'd shared had ended in venom, and this moment was no different. Hao Jian now held Qian'ai's sword. He raised it with trembling hands, his grin warped with obsession, a twisted echo of satisfaction that sent a chill through the room.

"You..." Hao Jian spat. "If it weren't for you, Xian Lian would still be alive. She would've chosen me. She would've been happier with me!"

"Says the man who stole her life from the people she loved," Zhiyong said, his voice cold, unyielding. A twitch cracked through Hao Jian's jaw. His body began to shake as rage overtook him.

"You should have died! Why did you come back to her? Why?!"

"I warned you," Zhiyong replied, his tone like steel dragging across the stone. "If you ever came near my children again... you would die. And yet, you dared to lay a hand on my daughter."

Hao Jian laughed—loud, broken, unhinged.

"You can have the boys. I don't want them. BUT HER—" he pointed, eyes wild with madness, "—I want her!"

The air shattered into silence. Yun Yuhua recoiled. Tian Ke took a step forward, his face gone pale. Qian'ai stared, frozen, disbelieving. Zhiyong's grip on his sword tightened.

No more words were needed.

With each slash, Zhiyong surged forward, his sword blazing with aura, every strike driven by the weight of the promise he made before Xian Lian's death. Hao Jian dodged fast, but Zhiyong's blows cut too close—each one more menacing than the last. Whenever Hao Jian tried to gain distance to counter, Zhiyong relentlessly closed the gap. He couldn't afford to fall—not when his children stood behind him.

Hao Jian's confidence faltered. He was losing. He hadn't landed a single strike, and Zhiyong wasn't letting up. Panic flickered in Hao Jian's eyes as he scanned the battlefield, desperate for control. Then, he saw it—the dirt beneath their feet. With a sudden smirk, Hao Jian stabbed his sword into the ground and kicked up a sharp spray of dirt into Zhiyong's face.

Zhiyong reeled back, stunned by the dirty tactic. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision—but it was too late. Hao Jian lunged, sword drawn, aiming for the kill.

Yun Yuhua's eyes widened. Without hesitation, she pushed her brothers aside and ran straight toward their father.

"Yuyu!" Tian Ke screamed, realizing too late what she had done.

In the blur of chaos, the color of her clothes pierced through the haze clouding Zhiyong's eyes. His instincts roared louder than they thought themselves. He reached out, grabbed her, and spun her behind him—just as Hao Jian's blade plunged into his chest.

The impact knocked the air from his lungs. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.

Zhiyong's eyes locked on Hao Jian—burning with fury, not fear. With a guttural roar, he kicked Hao Jian backward. In one final burst of aura, he slashed.

Steel met flesh.

Hao Jian's scream tore through the battlefield. "AHHHHH!" It was raw, animalistic, as his hand was severed cleanly—flung to the ground in a spray of blood.

Zhiyong dropped to his knees with his breath shallow.

"Baba!" the children's voices shattered the silence as their cries ragged with fear. Tian Ke and Qian'ai rushed to Zhiyong, using their trembling hands to support him as best they could. Yun Yuhua stood frozen, staring at her father, tears streaming down her face.

"Ba..." Her sobs wracked her body, a deep, guttural pain escaping her. Cheng Yi stood motionless, guilt gnawing at him. He realized, with a cold stab of truth, that Yun Yuhua had never cried before—not once. Not until now, when the weight of her family's suffering crushed her. And it was his presence that had brought this pain upon them. His father was a monster, and it was his fault.

Zhiyong's eyes flickered to Yun Yuhua, his lips curving into a faint, tender smile as he reached up to wipe away her tears, his face softening despite the agony that racked his body.

"Lao da..." Zhiyong's voice was a rasp, filled with warmth and affection as he addressed his eldest son. *Lao da is the affectionate term for the eldest child, a title of trust, of love.*

Tian Ke's voice cracked as he responded, "Here..."

Zhiyong's breaths were labored, but he managed a slow nod, trying to steady himself to keep his composure. "The rest... will be on your shoulders now," he said as his tone was a mix of tenderness and grave responsibility. "Li'ai and Yuyu... they are still too young. You must make sure they don't falter. Be their strength."

Tian Ke nodded, streaking with tears as his eyes filled with the weight of his father's words. Qian'ai stood at his side, trembling, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"Ba... We..." Qian'ai began falterly as if the words themselves were too heavy to carry. He looked at Zhiyong, the vulnerability clear in his eyes. Zhiyong's faint smile softened even more, a quiet understanding between them, a shared memory that spoke volumes.

Zhiyong's voice was low but firm. "You're strong... Don't forget that. And you must help your brother. He will need you."

Qian'ai nodded, though his shoulders shook with the effort to keep his composure. Zhiyong's gaze shifted, finally resting on Yun Yuhua. She stood before him, her hands pressed against her mouth as she tried to silence her sobs. Her face was a picture of anguish, and Zhiyong's heart ached.

His smile, so full of love, shattered Yun Yuhua's already fragile resolve. The sight of it—a smile so familiar, so tender, so like Xian Lian's before she collapsed in front of Qian'ai—broke her into a million pieces.

"Ba..." Yun Yuhua's voice quivered, raw with emotion. "I never asked you to return... to get hurt. I never wanted this."

Zhiyong's chest tightened, the weight of her words pressing down on him. Tears welled up in his eyes as his body trembled. Even in this moment of agonizing pain, he knew that if he died here, she would carry the burden of guilt forever. She would blame herself—as she always did. The thought of that crushed him more than anything else. He longed to take that pain from her, to spare her from the torment of what she might believe was her fault. But there was nothing he could do. His gaze flickered desperately around, searching for something—anything—that might ease her sorrow. But it was too late. He had already given everything he could. All that remained was his hope, fragile but steadfast, that his children would find the strength to carry on without him.

He reached for the pendant, trembling. "Your late mother wished to hand this to you..." His voice cracked as he continued to voice heavily with a deep, aching finality. "The only thing that remains of her... the only thing left of her mother..."

The brooch—a serpent-eating crown—gleamed in the dim light, its blue strings undisturbed, pristine as if it had been cared for with love. Yun Yuhua's hands shook as she took it, staring at it in silence. This was all that remained of the woman who had brought her into this world, and the woman who had given her life.

Before the moment could stretch any longer, the sound of hooves broke through the air. The Emperor's procession arrived, several horses ridden by his guards, his regal presence unmistakable. Ruqi was at Zhiyong's side instantly, calling his name with desperation in her voice.

"Zhiyong!" Ruqi cried, rushing toward him. He smiled faintly at her, the corners of his mouth trembling, before his gaze shifted to the Emperor. With an effort, he forced his weakening body to kneel. The crowd fell silent as their eyes were on him.

"Long live the Emperor..." Zhiyong whispered with his voice barely audible.

The Emperor's gaze moved over him, then to the children behind him, and finally, to Hao Jian. His eyes hardened, and a heavy sigh escaped him. There was no hiding the guilt in his expression.

"Li Zhiyong..." The Emperor's voice cracked a rare edge of regret in his words. "You've done well by the Empire. For that, I should have granted you the chance to live your life with your family. Instead, I have failed you. I failed to keep you safe."

"Promise me... that you will protect my children. Don't make them repeat my mistakes. Don't let them live with the regret I carry." Zhiyong's voice trembled, barely a whisper now, but it carried the weight of a lifetime's worth of sorrow.

The Emperor's eyes flickered to Yun Yuhua, seeing her fury restrained but evident. He paused—just a breath too long.

Then he looked down at Zhiyong, steadying his voice but heavy with something unspoken. "Very well. As you wished."