Later that night, Liu Chen gently laid his mother to rest in the nursing bed and pulled a blanket over her with quiet care. Just as he turned to leave, a sudden impulse welled up from deep within him—an instinct that urged him to lean down and kiss her goodnight.
In Asura's memories, every night Wang Mei had read him a poem about an emperor who wished to ascend the heavens in order to revive his daughter, and kissed him gently before he fell asleep. Now, at last, it was his turn to return the gesture.
He slowly bent over and tucked her pristine white hair behind her ear, as he leaned closer to her forehead he said, "Goodnight Mother, may the Heaven Ascending Emperor bless you with sweet dreams."
As he said this the corners of his Wang Junli's face slowly curled upwards into a small smile.
'Asura, you really do have an amazing mother.'
He then leaned downward and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead before turning toward the door. He needed fresh air—a quiet walk through the inner courtyard to clear his thoughts and begin planning his next steps.
The inner courtyard lay bathed in silver moonlight, its tranquil beauty undisturbed by the distant sounds of the household. Liu Chen stepped through the moon gate, his footsteps silent on the ancient stone pathway that wound between carefully manicured gardens.
Beneath the graceful branches of an ancient cherry blossom tree, a solitary figure sat in meditation posture. Wang Xue'er's white robes seemed to glow in the ethereal light, her delicate features turned skyward as she observed the dance of night birds against the star-scattered heavens. Her breathing was so steady, so perfectly controlled, that she appeared as serene as a jade statue carved by master artisans.
She had hair as black as night pinned up into a rounded bun. Brown freckles dotted her face and her deep eyes were as blue as the ocean. They seemed to carry in them, an unlimited innocence and pureness of the world around them.
Their gazes met across the courtyard—a brief moment of acknowledgment that passed like a whisper of wind through bamboo leaves. With the subtlest of nods, they agreed to the familiar dance of pretended ignorance.
He saw no records of the girl in Asura's memories so he was ignorant to her usual treatment towards the boy, but based off of this one encounter; he guessed that she held no open hostility towards him like the others.
Speaking of not having such memories of her, Liu Chen began to wonder why all of Asura's memories of his siblings seemed missing. Did a traumatic event happen that made him force them down into the deepest parts of his consciousness? Even so, when he transmigrated into his body they should have still come to him.
He decided to make a mental note and ponder on it further sometime in the distant future. As of now, he needed to plan what action he was going to take.
Liu Chen turned his attention to the arched stone bridge that spanned the lotus pond, its weathered surface worn smooth by countless generations of disciples who had walked this same path. Beneath the bridge's gentle curve, ornamental coi moved like living brushstrokes through the dark water—flashes of gold, silver, and deep crimson that caught the moonlight as they glided between lily pads and lotus blooms.
The gardens surrounding the pond were a testament to centuries of careful farming cultivation. Ancient pines twisted into graceful forms stood sentinel beside groves of bamboo that whispered secrets to the night breeze. Chrysanthemums and orchids bloomed in season, their fragrance mingling with the clean scent of mountain air that flowed down from the peaks surrounding their estate.
At the courtyard's heart, inlaid in black and white marble, lay the eternal symbol of the Taiji—the yin and yang embracing in perfect balance. Here, was where Asura had first started his cultivation journey a few months ago, and also where the family members who cultivated, come to deepen their understanding of the Dao.
Liu Chen paused at the bridge's center, his hands resting on the smooth stone railing, and wondered if the path of cultivation would always be as solitary as this moonlit courtyard suggested.
Studying the tranquil garden, Liu Chen secretly wished that his life could take a turn for the better, and that he could ultimately live in the Wang estate comfortably. But he was no fool. He understood the wickedness that plagued the people's hearts here, and knew that his only option was to grow strong enough to defend himself, or run away and escape from it all.
He continued to gaze at the beautiful gardens and finally made his decision.
...
In the main division of the Wang household, inside of the Patriarch's inner chambers, sat the Patriarch himself: Wang Zhennan.
He was busy reading over the result of the agricultural business from the past year and finding ways to gain even bigger profits next year. After reading over the reports, he began to grind the bundle of herbs on his desk in hopes of finding a new discovery for their use.
Suddenly, a loud thud fell on his doors and a person he hadn't expected to ever show his face in front of him spoke.
" Your son, Asura, requests an audience with the patriarch."
He silently thought to himself for a few seconds and decided to entertain the boy for a little while. After all, this would be the first time he's ever spoken to him.
In a deep and profound voice, he said, "You may enter."
The heavy oak doors of Patriarch Wang Zhennan's study groaned shut behind Liu Chen, sealing him within the suffocating atmosphere of ancient scrolls and burning incense. The patriarch sat behind his massive mahogany desk, his weathered hands methodically grinding medicinal herbs, not bothering to lift his gaze when his son entered.
"Speak quickly," Wang Zhennan's voice carried the cold indifference of winter frost. "I have more pressing matters than entertaining your presence."
Liu Chen knelt formally, his forehead touching the cold stone floor. "Father, I request permission to leave the Wang estate permanently. Let the world believe that your disappointing son has taken his own life in cowardly shame."
For the first time, the patriarch's hands stilled. He raised his dark brown eyes—cold, calculating orbs that held not even a flicker of paternal warmth. A bitter laugh escaped his lips.
"Finally," he said, leaning back in his chair with evident relief. "Do you know, Asura, that in all your pathetic years of existence, I have never once considered you my child? You have been nothing more than a persistent pest—a stain upon the Wang bloodline that I could never quite scrub clean."
The words fell like hammer blows, but Liu Chen's expression remained perfectly composed, his breathing steady. He had expected this, but he had also calculated that this trip would not be in vain.
Wang Zhennan continued, his voice growing more venomous with each syllable. "Perhaps it would have been a mercy if you had simply ended your miserable existence years ago. At least then I wouldn't have had to endure the embarrassment of claiming you as my offspring."
"I understand, Father." Liu Chen's voice was as steady as mountain stone. "Then we are in agreement."
"We are." The patriarch had already returned to his herb grinding. "Disappear. Tonight. And ensure no one traces your pathetic existence back to this family or else the consequences will surely be dire."
Liu Chen rose, bowed once more with mechanical precision, and turned toward the door.
"And Asura," the patriarch called without looking up, "should you somehow survive whatever foolish endeavor awaits you, remember—you are no longer welcome in this household. You are nothing to me. You have always been nothing."
"Understood," Liu Chen replied bowing again respectfully, and stepped through the doors for the final time.
Inside however, he could hardly contain his excitement.
'Finally I'm free of this f*cking place! And it only took me a day to leave!'
After the reality of his true predicament and what weak strength he had set in from his elder brother's beatings, he didn't hesitate to hurry up and leave this place before it killed him!
But before he reveled in his happiness, he also remembered the promises he had made - and he wasn't one to go back on his promises. Maybe in his past life he might have once or twice, but he definitely wouldn't in this one.
'I did not forget,' Liu Chen thought as he walked the familiar corridors one last time, his footsteps echoing in the empty halls. 'Neither the vow I made to Asura, nor the promise I carry for mother. When I return, it will be with enough strength to repay every debt.'
In his quarters, Liu Chen moved with quiet efficiency. A single travel pack—sturdy but unremarkable—received his few possessions: simple robes that wouldn't mark him as nobility, dried rations that would sustain him for weeks, and small blankets for warmth on the streets. Everything else—the silk garments, the expensive furnishings, the trappings of his former life—he left behind like a snake shedding its skin.
The twin moons hung high when he approached his mother's residence, a modest pavilion separated from the main estate by a carefully tended garden. He slipped the letter beneath her door with the silence of falling snow, then paused for one final moment, his hand pressed against the wooden frame.
'Forgive me, mother. But this is the only way I can truly become worthy of your love.'
...
Lady Wang Mei sat alone in her living chambers, brewing her evening tea when she noticed the folded parchment that had appeared beneath her door. Her heart clenched with inexplicable dread as she had a gut feeling that something was wrong.
As she opened up the letter, she quickly recognized it as her son's writing.
The words blurred through her tears as she read.
The letter fluttered to the ground from Lady Wang Mei's trembling fingers as uncontrolled sobs wracked her delicate frame. She collapsed to her knees, clutching her chest as if trying to hold her breaking heart together, her cries echoing through the night like the wail of a wounded phoenix.
Her two most trusted maidservants, Xiao Lu and Xiao Feng, burst through the doors at the sound of their mistress's anguish.
"My lady! What has happened?" Xiao Lu cried, rushing to support the weeping woman.
Xiao Feng spotted the fallen letter and carefully retrieved it. "She began crying after reading this," she whispered to her companion.
"Read it aloud," Xiao Lu commanded softly, her own eyes beginning to glisten with tears at her mistress's grief.
She immediately unfolded the parchment and started to recite the words written on it.
*"Dearest Mother,
By the time you read these words, your worthless son will have already departed from this world you know. Please do not grieve for one so unworthy of your boundless love and sacrifice.
I know that I have brought you nothing but shame and disappointment. Every day I saw the pain in your eyes when others whispered about your failure of a son. Every night I heard your quiet sobs through these thin walls, and I knew that I was the cause of your suffering.
Mother, you deserved a son who could make you proud—one who could cultivate the heavenly arts, who could bring honor to your name, who could protect you from the cruelties of this world. Instead, fate cursed you with me.
But please know this truth above all others: every breath I have taken, every step I have walked, has been filled with love for you. You are the light that guided me through my darkest moments, the warmth that kept my heart from freezing in the winter of father's indifference.
I go now on a journey that may take years, perhaps decades. I cannot say where this path will lead, but I swear upon my very soul that I will not return until I have become strong enough to give you the life you deserve.
Do not search for me. Do not mourn for me. Instead, wait for me.
For I shall return not as the worthless boy who disappoints you now, but as the emperor who ascended the heavens—all for you, my beloved mother.
Until that day, carry my love with you always.
Your devoted son, Asura"
As Xiao Feng's voice carried Asura's final words through the chamber, both servants began to weep alongside their lady, understanding the depth of love and sacrifice contained within the young master's farewell. These women had been with Wang Mei ever since she first arrived in the Wang estate, so they had naturally built a connection with her, and that connection extended towards her son - disfigured or not.
...
In the distance, a little way off from the Wang household, a small lone figure disappeared into the crowded area of the imperial province of Jiang, carrying nothing but determination and a promise that would reshape the very heavens themselves.