The old man stood still at the cliff's edge as his scarlet eyes followed the faint silhouette far below at the bottom of the cliff— the battered, motionless body of Lin Fang.
For a long moment, he said nothing. The only sound was the wind howling through the mountain peaks.
Then he sighed. It was a soft, almost regretful sound. "Foolish kid," he murmured. "You had a promising future… and you wasted it."
He turned away, his cane tapping lightly on the ground as he began to walk back toward his small hut. But before he entered, he paused again, glancing over his shoulder, to the distant horizon. "It's really a pity."
The old man shook his head and vanished into the hut, shutting the door behind him.
*
Six minutes passed.
And then, Lin Fang's corpse began to glow a soft gold radiance bleeding through the torn flesh. The air shimmered around him. His body rose slowly from the ground, floating for a second before settling back down gently.
