Li Yuan arrived at the outskirts of the Tianshan capital as dusk began to creep in from the east. The remaining sunlight painted the sky a bloody red—a sign all too fitting for what he was about to find.
Even from this distance, before he had stepped through the city gates, he could feel the terrifying change. Through his Wenjing Realm, he heard a symphony of horror echoing from every corner of the capital: fear that had turned into despair, trauma that had not healed and had only deepened, and above all, the dark intentions of those in power.
Two months, Li Yuan thought with a coldness that was crystallizing in his chest. Only two months since I left, and they have...
He didn't finish the thought. His anger—which had begun to grow since he sensed the dark intentions from the mountains—now flowed more powerfully. Even the Understanding of Water, which usually calmed all extreme emotions, could not completely suppress what he felt.
Because this wasn't blind anger or a loss of control. This was an anger born from an all-too-clear understanding of what had happened, of the choices that had been made, of the needless suffering that had been inflicted on innocent people.
Li Yuan entered the city gates. The guards on duty—faces different from the ones he remembered—stared at him with vacant eyes. They still carried the marks of the trauma from the passive effect of the Understanding of Fear he had released a year ago. Their eyes darted nervously, their hands trembled slightly even as they held their spears, and there was a constant restlessness in their posture.
The residue of fear still haunts them, Li Yuan realized. A year has passed, but the impression left by the confrontation with their own truth has not completely faded.
But there was something darker beneath that trauma. Something new. When Li Yuan extended his Wenjing perception deeper, he heard intentions that made something cold and hard flow through his consciousness.
Blood. Death. Execution.
He walked through the city levels with a calm step but carrying a weight that made people around him instinctively move out of the way. His presence—even though he had not released any passive effects—still carried an aura of authority that could not be ignored.
On the merchant level, shops and workshops were still operating, but there was an unnatural silence. People spoke in hushed tones, their eyes frequently darted around with a nervous vigilance, and there was a tension in their every movement.
Master Chen, the furniture maker Li Yuan had spoken to, was seen working in his workshop. But the hands that usually moved with a craftsman's confidence now trembled slightly. His face was older than Li Yuan remembered—not from time, but from the burden he carried.
What has happened here?
Li Yuan continued walking, climbing to higher levels. In the noble quarter, the atmosphere was even more oppressive. Nobles walked with hurried steps, avoiding eye contact with each other, and a paranoia thickened in the air like a poisonous fog.
Through his Wenjing Realm, Li Yuan heard fragments of whispered conversations:
"...don't dare to say anything..."
"...who will be next..."
"...the king has gone mad..."
"...his brother is even worse..."
His brother, Li Yuan noted with sharp attention. The king has a sibling who was not here a year ago. And the intentions I sense from him... are even darker than the king's own.
Finally, Li Yuan reached the central square of the capital—a large open space usually used for markets or festivals. But what he saw there made something hard and final crystallize in his decision.
In the middle of the square, there was a wooden platform that had been specially built for one purpose: public executions. The wood was still dark with stains that could not be mistaken. Blood.
But what made Li Yuan stop and stare with eyes that had turned as cold as the ice on the mountaintop was what was displayed on the side of the platform: decapitated heads, mounted on poles as a "warning" to anyone who dared to defy royal authority.
Through his Wenjing Realm, Li Yuan could hear the final echoes of the souls that had died in that place. And what he heard made his anger—which he had controlled with great difficulty—almost surpass his limits.
Uncle Wu. The old man who taught children to read and write with fragile hope. Mei. The woman who sold soup with trembling hands but persevered. Master Feng. The scribe who smuggled books for the makeshift school. Ling. The young woman who organized the making of clothes for the community's children.
All the people who had dared to show compassion, who had dared to help each other, who had dared to believe that change was possible—they had all been killed. Executed in public as an "example" for others.
Two months, Li Yuan's thoughts felt like cutting ice. Two months after I left, and that foolish king chose to answer the seeds of hope with a massacre.
A small crowd gathered around the square, staring at the displayed heads with a mixture of fear, sadness, and suppressed anger. They whispered among themselves, their voices barely audible, as if afraid that speaking too loudly would make them the next target.
Li Yuan walked closer, and his presence made the crowd instinctively part to make way. Some people recognized him—their eyes widened with a mixture of hope and fear. Others only sensed that there was something different about the white-haired man with gray eyes who stood staring at the execution platform with a perfectly controlled expression that was somehow more terrifying than an explosive rage.
"You," someone from the crowd whispered. "You're the man who... a year ago..."
Li Yuan didn't answer. He just kept staring at the displayed heads, listening to the last echoes of the souls that had died.
Through his Wenjing Realm, he could hear the complete story from the water that carried memories. After Li Yuan left, the first ten months were relatively peaceful. The trauma from the passive effect of the Understanding of Fear made many people—including officials and guards—more cautious, more reflective. Some of the most repressive policies were relaxed, not because of official reform, but because those who were supposed to enforce them had lost the will to do so.
The common people began to breathe a little easier. Community cooperation continued, more carefully but still present. Children continued to learn in the makeshift school. People continued to help each other with food and basic needs.
But in the tenth month, the king's brother returned.
Prince Tianwei—a man who had spent years on military campaigns on the kingdom's borders—carried an intention even darker than King Tianlong. If the king was foolish and selfish, his brother was cruel and sadistic.
And when he saw how the common people had "dared" to help each other, how they had "forgotten their place," his rage knew no bounds.
He convinced the king—who was already paranoid from his unhealed trauma—that the common people were planning a rebellion. That their community cooperation was preparation to overthrow the kingdom. That the people who had met with the "mysterious foreign man" were dangerous agents of subversion.
And the king, in his foolishness and fear, ordered the executions.
A massacre, Li Yuan corrected inwardly with absolute coldness. Not executions. A massacre of innocent people whose only crime was showing compassion.
"When did this happen?" Li Yuan asked in a very quiet voice, but one that somehow made everyone around him shiver.
An old man from the crowd—his face familiar, one of those Li Yuan had seen at the commoner community meeting—answered with a trembling voice: "Two months ago, sir. They... they rounded up everyone who had been at those meetings. Everyone who taught the children, who shared food, who... who dared to hope."
"Prince Tianwei himself led the executions," added a woman next to him, her voice full of suppressed anger. "He enjoyed it. He smiled while... while..."
She couldn't finish the sentence.
Li Yuan closed his eyes for a moment. In that darkness, he integrated all the information he had gathered. He understood now the complete sequence of events: a foolish and paranoid king, a cruel and sadistic brother, a mass execution of innocent people, and now—two months after the massacre—a capital living in an even deeper fear than before.
They have made their choice, Li Yuan decided with cold finality. The king was given a chance for reform. I showed him a mirror, let him see his own emptiness, gave him a choice between wisdom and arrogance.
And he chose arrogance. Worse, he chose cruelty. He took the seeds of hope that had begun to grow among his people and crushed them with blood.
Li Yuan opened his eyes, and what the people around him saw made them take a step back involuntarily. The gray eyes that were usually as calm as a lake's surface now carried a coldness that made the air around him feel like it was freezing.
"Where are the king and his brother now?" Li Yuan asked in a very, very calm voice.
"At the palace, sir," the old man replied. "They... they are celebrating their 'victory' over the 'rebellion.'"
Something that looked like a smile—but not a smile that brought warmth—appeared on Li Yuan's face.
"Celebrating," he repeated in a tone that made the word sound like a curse. "They are celebrating the slaughter of innocent people. They are celebrating the destruction of hope. They are celebrating the victory of cruelty over compassion."
Li Yuan turned to face the crowd that had gathered around him—there were now dozens of people, all staring at him with a mixture of hope and fear.
"People of Tianshan," he said, and his voice—while not loud—somehow reached everyone in the square. "A year ago, I showed this kingdom a mirror. I let every person see the truth about themselves, about the choices they had made, about the system they had maintained."
"I gave the king a choice between reform and repression, between wisdom and arrogance. And he chose arrogance."
Li Yuan pointed to the heads displayed on the poles.
"This is the result. People who dared to show compassion. People who dared to hope for something better. People whose only crime was believing that justice might be possible."
"All of them were slaughtered to satisfy the ego of a foolish king and the cruelty of a sadistic prince."
The silence that fell over the square was so deep that even breathing felt loud.
"But," Li Yuan continued, and there was something in his tone that made everyone who heard it feel that something fundamental was about to change, "I did not come here to seek revenge on behalf of the dead. I did not come to kill the king and his brother with my own hands."
"Because true justice is not justice that is handed down from above by someone in power. True justice is the justice that is chosen by a people who have long suffered."
Li Yuan looked into the eyes of the people around him.
"I have come to ask you: will you continue to live in fear? Will you let the deaths of your friends, your families, your neighbors be in vain? Or will you stand up and say 'enough'?"
"The decision is in your hands. I will not force you to act. But I will be here, as a witness, to ensure that if you choose to demand justice, no one can stop you."
The silence continued, but now there was a different quality to it—not a paralyzing fear, but a trembling anticipation.
Finally, a young woman stepped forward. Her face was familiar—Li Yuan recognized her as someone who had been at the commoner community meeting. The hand she raised trembled, but her voice—though weak—carried an unwavering resolve.
"Ling was my sister," she said, pointing to one of the displayed heads. "She... she just wanted the children not to be hungry. That was all she did. And they killed her for it."
Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she didn't wipe them away.
"I am afraid," she admitted with raw honesty. "I am very afraid. But I am more afraid of living in a world where people like my sister are killed for compassion, and I do nothing."
One by one, others began to step forward. The old man who lost his son. The mother who lost her husband. The children who lost their teacher. Everyone who had lost a loved one in the massacre two months ago.
And as they gathered, something invisible began to flow among them—no longer just fear or sadness, but anger. A contained anger, an anger born from a loss that was too deep, an anger that had long been suppressed but was now beginning to find a voice.
Li Yuan watched with a serene expression but with eyes that carried a deep understanding of what was happening.
This is the moment, he thought with a cold and final satisfaction. The moment when a long-oppressed people finally realize that they are not alone, that they are not powerless, that they have the strength to change their own destiny.
The king and his brother are about to learn that there are consequences for their choices. Not consequences handed down by supernatural power or divine intervention, but consequences handed down by the people they tormented—the people who have finally decided that they will not tolerate cruelty any longer.
And I, Li Yuan continued inwardly with absolute coldness, will be here to ensure that no one obstructs this long-overdue justice.
The sun finally set completely, leaving the capital of Tianshan in darkness. But in the central square, beneath the heads displayed as a warning, something new began to grow.
Not hope—not yet. But something even stronger: resolve.