Chapter 55
A Single Vow
Two days had passed since General Lu Sui marched toward the Red Light Village. Neither he nor any messenger returned. Unease gnawed at the heart of the Lord of Fire Phoenix City, for a shadow of danger had begun to coil around his brother. At last, he decided to send two hundred soldiers to uncover what had transpired and to pierce the veil of that ominous silence.
Meanwhile, Sai Mo languished in the darkness of a dungeon, a tomb-like chamber that dragged him into the abyss of agony and torment. The boy's frail body trembled without cease, battered by relentless beatings, deep gashes, searing burns, and bruises staining every inch of his skin. His blood slicked across his small frame, yet he endured it all for only two reasons: his father, and his elder brother. The longing to see them again, the aching pull of home, was the blade with which he resisted the scourge of his torturers.
Though the lash never rested, its cruelty lessened somewhat when the lord ordered his guards toward Red Light Village. And so, broken and torn, Sai Mo heard the whispers of those guards outside his cell:
> "It seems the lord has yet to return from his mission."
"Did you hear? Perhaps the rumors are true… maybe Red Light Village truly decided to rebel."
"It could be… before leaving, the lord ordered us to keep this boy and torment him. But he has not come back. What if the Lord Commander learns of this?"
Not long after, the guards departed for Red Light Village at the command of Lord Lu Sa. Even those stationed to watch over Sai Mo's cell abandoned their posts.
At that critical moment, fate parted the bars before him. Though shackled in heavy iron chains, the boy did not falter. With a muffled cry of agony, Sai Mo severed the foot bound in iron. It was an act that should have been beyond a child of thirteen—but his will had long since surpassed his broken flesh.
Dragging himself from his cell, his small body slipped into a corridor long and black, like a tunnel plunging into the bowels of hell. Pain gnawed at his heart more viciously than his body; tortured without rest, robbed of sleep, and now maimed, he crawled with a soul aflame. Still, he pressed onward. All he wanted was to see his family again.
He crawled until the corridor opened into three paths: one to the left, one to the right, one straight ahead. Closing his eyes for a moment to gather strength, he recalled the way—two days ago, Lu Sui and his men had dragged him through this very passage. He knew which road to take.
But before moving on, his gaze caught upon something lying near: a worn, ancient spear, and beside it, a leather satchel. His eyes shook as they fell upon the bag. He knew it at once. It was his father's gift, one he had never parted with. With trembling fingers, he opened it—and inside lay four blossoms of Light, along with a handful of coins, the very ones he had purchased before being captured. A broken smile curved across his lips, a tear slipped down his cheek, and he pressed the satchel to his chest as though clutching the last warmth of his family.
Crossing his legs, Sai Mo took one of the Light Flowers, placed it upon his tongue, and closed his eyes to summon what little remained of his strength. He tried again and again, pouring forth effort beyond his limits, until at last, after long minutes, his eyes flickered with a faint white glow. When he opened them, his wounds were gone, his body healed—save for his severed foot, which remained lost. Yet even that no longer bled, and for him, that was enough. He had no time for despair. He tied the satchel to his waist, gripped the spear, and rose to his feet, ready to press on.
Half an hour passed as he advanced slowly through the passages until at last he emerged from the dungeon of death.
What greeted him was a different world entirely: a vast garden, alive with blossoms and vibrant with beauty. Yet he cared nothing for it. His eyes saw only the path that led back to his family.
He moved cautiously until he reached the city's gate, where a stable stood nearby. Knocking on the door of the adjoining house, he was met by an old man, white-bearded, weary-eyed, worn with age.
The old man stared at him in shock, voice laden with concern as he took in the boy's mangled form:
"Where have you been, child? What happened to your foot? Are you well?"
But Sai Mo, unable to afford even a moment's delay, replied in a trembling yet resolute voice:
> "Give me my horse, old man… I must go."
The old man longed to press him, to tend to him, yet the boy's urgency and the unyielding fire in his gaze silenced any argument. He opened the stable, brought forth the horse, and watched as Sai Mo climbed with difficulty upon its back.
Before he could ride away, the elder stopped him suddenly, voice cloaked in mystery:
"Child… I do not know what has befallen you. But hear me. You tread a path of darkness now, and soon you will cross the shades. Do not become one of them… guard your soul."
The old man's eyes lifted sharply, as though seeing something above the boy's head that no one else could. Sai Mo, bowing his head in respect, spurred the horse forward, hooves echoing down the road until they faded into silence.
The old man stood watching until the boy vanished, then sighed heavily, lifting his gaze skyward and murmuring:
"Do not die, child…"
After long hours of riding, Sai Mo—worn and weary—reached the outskirts of his village.
But no village greeted him.
What he saw was a nightmare made real: a vast dome of dark energy, shrouding his village and the forest entire, swallowing the land beneath a veil of shadow.
He froze, heart quaking with dread. Before him, soldiers who had arrived earlier tested the barrier. One man stretched forth his hand; it slid through the darkness with ease, and soon his whole body followed. Yet hours passed, and he did not return. Others tried, one by one, but none came back. After half a day of fear and confusion, those who remained withdrew, hurrying back to inform the lord of what they had seen.
When they were gone, Sai Mo crept from the shadows, approaching the black dome with trembling heart. He stretched out his hand, only to be repelled as though striking a wall of iron. Again and again he pounded upon it, until blood seeped from his young palms, yet nothing yielded. No path opened. No mercy was given.
Then, in his despair, something drifted from within the dome and fell at his feet. Kneeling, he picked it up with a trembling hand. It was a blood-soaked scrap of cloth. He knew it instantly—it was the same cloth his father had always worn upon his brow, the gift of his late wife, Sai Mo's mother.
In that instant, the boy's heart shattered.
He screamed with grief, a howl that tore the silence of night apart. A child of thirteen, beaten nearly to death, mutilated, crawling through torment, who had endured it all just to return to his family—only to find his home erased from existence. His father, gone. His brother, gone. His people, gone. None remained.
He wept until no tears were left, until his tears ran red as blood. His body trembled, wracked with rage, sorrow, and agony until he thought he might burst. At last, he lifted his bowed head, rose to his feet before the black barrier, and cast the red Light Flowers into its depths.
Then he turned his back.
And vanished into the darkness, leaving behind him a vow of vengeance burning in his chest.
In that moment, Sai Mo swore he would exact retribution upon all who had brought him suffering, who had slain his family, who had destroyed his village.
From that day on… the boy disappeared into the shadows of the night.
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