Sand and blood still clung to the battlefield as Xuan Di stood among the ruins of destruction. The wind carried the scent of iron and smoke into a dim sky. His army—hundreds of black-robed soldiers—waited at a distance. They thirsted for victory, yet understood nothing of the wounds left behind.
Xuan Di took a long breath. His right hand trembled—not from exhaustion, but from the choice he couldn't bring himself to make. He looked down at his father's body, broken but still breathing.
> "We retreat," he finally said, voice cold, yet weary.
The soldiers hesitated. Some prepared to finish what Xuan Di had started. But one look from their leader's eyes was enough. None dared disobey.
Xuan Di walked first, away from the wreckage, from his father, from the past. Only his heavy footsteps echoed behind him—like a slow, grieving drumbeat.
---
Later, he stood alone on a ridge, turning his back to the army. The gray sky began to drizzle lightly. He stood still beneath the crumbling sky, a statue of stone.
His hand clenched into a fist.
Then slowly, he opened it.
Inside was a folded piece of cloth—old, worn, with a rough embroidery: two smiling stick figures, and the words "Father and Tian" stitched clumsily by a child's hand.
Xuan Di collapsed to his knees.
> "Why… why couldn't I kill you…?"
His voice was hoarse. His chest tight.
Memories surged like the first rain after a long drought.
> "Father! Father! Look! I can cut this branch!"
Little Lu Tian stood proudly in the courtyard, gripping a nearly broken wooden sword.
Lu Zhou laughed, kneeling beside him. "Well done, Tian. But remember—swords aren't for pride. A sword is a promise to protect."
"I'll protect you, Father!" the boy replied, grinning wide.
Lu Zhou ruffled his hair. "Then I have nothing to fear in this world."
---
Xuan Di clawed at the ground, trembling.
> "You taught me to dream… then left without a word."
Tears fell, but his face remained cold.
> "I want you to know how it felt to be abandoned. How it shattered me to grow up without your shadow."
> "Tian, one day you'll be stronger than me." "Stronger than you? Impossible!" "Believe it. But more important than the strength to cut down your enemies is the strength to hold back from hurting those you love."
> "But when I stood before you… why did I feel not hatred—but fear?"
Not the fear of losing… but the fear of losing the last fragment of his heart.
> "I've won… so why does it feel like I've lost everything?"
The rain fell gently. The ground turned to mud, but Xuan Di remained on his knees. He was not a great leader now. He was just a child, lost in the space between ambition and memory.
---
Far below the hill, the battlefield faded beneath a curtain of mist. There, Lu Zhou still lived. His breath was shallow, but his eyes were open. He knew… his son had not truly killed him.
On the ridge, Xuan Di rose again. He said nothing, letting his tears mix with the rain.
And for the first time since he took the name Xuan Di—he felt like Lu Tian again. Even if only for a moment.
> "Forgive me, Father…"
His footsteps left prints in the wet soil, but none pointed to where his heart would go next.
---