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Chapter 19 - DEATH OF DIJUN AND ORMAN

The night in the valley began like any other–quiet, gentle, and warm with the scent of pine. The lanterns outside the tavern swayed softly, their faint glow blending with the deepening dusk. Inside, laughter rippled between two children: one born of the heavens, the other, an ordinary mortal child with a heart brighter than the moon.

"Kiaria, you cheated again!" Diala stomped her little foot, puffing her cheeks. "I said no using powers! It's unfair!"

Kiaria smiled faintly, his silver hair falling over his eyes. "Then I will not repeat it," he promised, his tone as soft as a falling leaf.

Her pout melted into a grin. "Good! Now count again–this time, no tricks!"

So they played hide and seek again, tagging it as silly games of children.

And for the first time in his young life, Kiaria forgot what cultivation was, forgot his duties, forgot the burden of being chosen. His heart felt weightless. He laughed–not the polite smile of discipline, but the laughter of a child finally freed from silence.

The stars turned, hours passed unnoticed, and their laughter echoed through the woods until even the forest seemed to listen.

When they finally returned to the tavern, dusk had deepened into night. The lanterns glowed like tiny suns behind the bamboo screens. Diala pushed the door open, still giggling.

"Father! We're back!" she called. "You won't believe how fast he–"

Her voice faltered.

The tavern was empty.

The tables untouched, chairs neatly set.

No sound. No breath.

"Father…?" she called again, softer this time.

Silence.

Orman's bowl from earlier still sat on the table, half-eaten. Kiaria's eyes narrowed; the faint air current that lingered in the room was disturbed recently–someone had left not long ago.

"Maybe they went outside," he said gently. "We should wait."

But Diala shook her head, her small fingers twisting the hem of her dress. "You don't understand…"

Her voice broke. "He… he went hunting again."

Kiaria turned toward her. "Hunting?"

She wiped her tears with her sleeve. "My father… he lost his cultivation years ago. The sect punished him. His meridians are broken. He shouldn't even lift a blade, but…" Her words trembled. "He never stopped. Every time he leaves, he comes home bleeding. He thinks–he thinks one more hunt will fix everything."

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "And now he's gone with your brother. They might not come back."

Kiaria's chest tightened. The scent of meat and smoke that once filled the tavern now felt heavy, suffocating.

"Tell me," he said softly, kneeling so his eyes met hers. "Tell me everything you know."

Through tears, she began to speak. Her voice shook, but every word carried the weight of years.

"Twelve years ago, my father was undefeated. He challenged every sect in the empire, even those beyond the sea. No one could defeat him. People called him the Phantom Beast–because he fought like one."

She paused, breath ragged.

"But one day, a man–someone he trusted–told him about a beast beneath the Sword Manor Valley. Said it was monstrous, dangerous, a creature that needed to be slain. My father didn't know it was a trap."

Her eyes glistened. "That beast was one of the four guardian beasts of the empire. He killed it. And the sects… they condemned him."

Her small hands trembled. "The punishment was called Heavenly Torment. Twelve lightning nails made from storm metal, driven into his meridians. Twenty bolts of tribulation thunder through his body. He should've died, but he didn't. They said his spirit was too stubborn to break. But his cultivation was gone. He lived as a mortal ever since."

Kiaria's breath caught. "And still, he hunts beasts?"

She nodded weakly. "A few years ago, a man in a red robe came. Face hidden, voice masked. He told my father there's a beast deep in this valley–the Blood-Moon Wolf. Said its spiritual core could heal his meridians."

Her voice broke again. "He… he believed him. And now… he's gone."

Kiaria reached for her hand. "Enough," he said softly. "We'll find them."

"Please…" she begged, tears spilling freely. "Please find him."

Kiaria's gaze steadied. "Hold on to me."

She hesitated, then clung to him, small arms wrapping around his neck.

"Hold your breath," he whispered.

Then the world blurred. Wind roared past. The Star-Feather Technique awakened beneath his feet–each step lighter than air. They glided over treetops, slipping through moonlight, leaving no mark, no trace. Diala held her breath, her eyes wide with fear and wonder.

Then it hit them–the scent of blood. Heavy, metallic, cruel.

Kiaria landed in a clearing shattered by battle. Trees torn apart. Rocks split open. The earth clawed into deep trenches. The air was thick with Qi and grief.

At the center, the Blood-Moon Wolf lay sprawled, its massive body heaving. Its fur shimmered faintly red beneath the moon, blood pooling beneath its claws.

Diala froze. "No…"

Kiaria's gaze swept across the ground–and stopped.

Two bodies.

Orman.

Dijun.

Orman's blade was buried in the wolf's chest. Dijun's arm was still outstretched toward him, as if trying to shield him with his last breath.

Kiaria dropped to his knees. His hands trembled. "Seventh Brother…"

No answer.

He tried to heal them, pouring his energy into their wounds, but the light found no life left to hold. His power fell away like sand through fingers.

Behind him, a cry tore the night open.

"Father!"

Diala stumbled forward, her tiny form collapsing beside Dijun's body. Her sobs were raw, wild, unrestrained. "No, Father! Please wake up! I'm here… I'm here!" She shook him, her small hands desperate, her tears falling on his lifeless face.

Kiaria turned away, his throat tightening until he couldn't breathe.

"Why are you just standing there?!" she screamed at him, her voice cracking. "Why aren't you crying?! Why aren't you doing something?! You don't know how it feels!"

Kiaria's lips trembled. "I do now."

He knelt beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. His voice was soft, trembling, yet firm. "Close your eyes."

She sniffled, confused. "Why?"

"I'll let you see him again," Kiaria whispered.

She blinked through tears. "You can do that?"

"Just trust me."

He turned to the fallen and pressed his fingers to Dijun's forehead. A pale white light unfurled from his hand–the Fairy Nature Essence. The forest itself seemed to hold its breath.

The essence slipped through Dijun's body, glowing along his veins, then returned, carrying fragments of memory. Kiaria's breath shuddered as he saw it all:

Dijun and Orman facing the Blood-Moon Wolf beneath the red moon, their attacks weaving between flame and frost. The wolf's claws ripped earth asunder. Dijun struck with phantom forms; Orman's laughter filled the air as he fought beside him. But the beast was old, cunning. Its tail swept them both aside. The final strike was a sacrifice–Dijun and Orman binding their spirits together to deliver one killing blow.

As the vision faded, Kiaria whispered, his voice trembling with quiet fury:

"If restoration were so easy, no one would be called trash. Desire blinds men–and it grows fiercer each day."

Kiaria moved closer, touching his forehead to hers. "Close your eyes. Be still."

Their breaths joined. Their consciousness sank. The forest faded away.

In the last bit of sea of consciousness in Dijun, a figure appeared–Dijun, standing tall again, radiant as he once was.

Diala gasped, covering her mouth. "Father…"

"Diala…" The spirit smiled, voice deep and kind, touched with sorrow. "My little one…"

She ran to him, her small arms passing through his light but clinging all the same. "Why did you leave me? I don't want to live without you! Take me with you, please!"

Dijun's voice broke, even in spirit. "My child, it is not your time. You must live–for me. You have a journey to walk, a world to change. If you follow me now, I can never rest."

He brushed his spectral hand against her hair. "When you smile, the world is lighter. Don't make your father cry where he rests."

She sobbed into nothingness, shaking her head. "I can't… I can't let go."

"You must," Dijun whispered. He turned toward Kiaria. "Boy… you are her hope now. Protect her. Not as duty–but as your own heart's truth."

Kiaria bowed deeply. "I promise, Master Dijun. I will protect her. This is my vow."

A faint light glimmered in Dijun's eyes. "Then I can leave in peace."

His spirit faded slowly, the last of his glow sinking into the air like fireflies dying with dawn.

Diala screamed, clutching at the empty air where her father's warmth had been. Then she fell forward, trembling, pressing her face to Kiaria's chest.

He wrapped his arms around her, his fingers trembling in her hair. "Cry," he whispered. "Let it all out."

The forest held its breath.

When the last sob finally broke into silence, the moon rose red and full above them.

Kiaria's breath grew shallow. His skin turned pale, veins glowing faintly under his flesh. The Fairy Nature Essence he used had drained his strength.

The world spun. Pain exploded through his ribs, as though every bone cracked at once.

"Ah…" he gasped, clutching his chest. "Blood… Moon…"

His voice fell away.

He collapsed beside her, the crimson light of the moon washing over their still forms–one broken in body, the other in heart.

And through that silent forest, the wind whispered their names as if the heavens themselves had begun to mourn.

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