At that moment, Yan Mo felt something very strange.
His chest began to glow.
His eyes suddenly widened, and the strange light reflected in Yan Mo's trembling eyes. He took a step back and nearly stumbled, his hand involuntarily rising towards his glowing chest. He wanted to touch it, but he was afraid of something unexpected happening.
"What? Impossible! This... it's the Blood Refining Fairy!"
His voice broke, and cold sweat crept onto his forehead. A long gasp was trapped in his chest before being released as a heavy exhale. His eyelashes trembled, and his pupils dilated with shock and astonishment.
"How is it now? I don't know... So, she also travels through time?"
His other hand clutched the clothes on his chest. He gripped his clothes tightly, his fingers pressing into the fabric. He was nervous, not understanding why she was with him.
"But if that's really true, does that mean there are now two Blood Refining Fairies in this world?"
He raised his gaze to the ceiling, astonishment etching his features. His mind struggled to grasp the idea. He sighed deeply, his shoulders drooping for a moment with exhaustion before straightening again.
"But now she's in hibernation due to expending energy on the return. Well, I need to feed her energy. But I think I'm okay for now, right?"
He bit his lower lip thoughtfully, then ran his hand over his tired face. The dark circles under his eyes were deep, and his eyelids were heavy from lack of sleep, but a glimmer of determination lit his gaze.
Suddenly, an idea occurred to Yan Mo.
Surprise dawned on his face. His eyes, which had been dull, suddenly widened with a flicker of hope. He stood up straight completely, his hand clutching his waist while he unconsciously took a quick step forward.
"Right! On the top of Han Mountain lies the legendary pill made by Yun Tai."
It was just a fleeting thought that quickly disappeared behind serious expressions. He tilted his head slightly, his eyes staring into space as if he could see the mountain before him.
"I heard before I traveled back in time that the eldest son of the Han family obtained it. That pill will help me awaken the Blood Refining Fairy."
He breathed deeply, his chest rising.
"That pill... if refined well, and because of the long time it has spent on the mountain, it will be very beneficial."
He drew a line in the air with his hand as he imagined, his brows furrowed in deep concentration. Biting his lips between his teeth reflected the depth of his thinking.
"It contains a large amount of energy, and that energy is enough to awaken the Blood Refining Fairy."
He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them suddenly, determination radiating from his tired blue eyes.
"So, the best way to find the pill is through meditation. The pill will sense my energy and try to absorb the surrounding energy."
He raised his palm before his face, gazing at it intently, as if trying to sense that energy he spoke of.
"I will go to the top of Han Mountain. There will be almost no obstacles. I thought of this based on what I did tonight."
He rubbed his tired eyes with his palm, a deep sigh shaking his shoulders.
"Well, I should go after dawn."
Then Yan Mo left the Han clan's mansion.
His steps were light and quick, but his slightly hunched shoulders told a story of deep fatigue. In the mansion's hallway, the servants suddenly stopped working.
Their faces paled.
One was carrying a food tray; it nearly fell from his trembling hands. Another froze in place, mop in hand, water dripping from it onto the floor unnoticed. They silently swallowed, their glances touching Yan Mo's back then quickly darting away. No one dared to stop him or ask where he was going.
He arrived at the peak of Han Mountain.
The cold wind slapped his face as soon as he arrived, strands of his hair flying around his pale face. He stood for a moment contemplating the grey horizon before dawn; the sky was still dark with faint threads of light on the far horizon.
Yan Mo sat down and began to meditate.
He placed his hands on his knees and closed his eyes. His eyelids fluttered slightly before settling. His breathing became deep and regular, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. But on his forehead, beads of sweat began to gather despite the cold weather.
Hours passed.
The sun slowly climbed the sky, then began to descend. The shadows of the rocks lengthened, then shortened, then lengthened again.
Yan Mo was still sitting.
But his face had changed.
Sweat covered his entire forehead, strands of hair sticking to his temples. His lips were dry and slightly chapped, and colour gradually faded from his cheeks. His brows were furrowed in hidden pain, and a tremor began to run through his shoulders every few minutes.
A whole day passed, and it was to no avail.
Yan Mo slowly opened his eyes.
They were bloodshot, red threads tracing fine lines in the whites of his eyes. His heavy eyelashes fluttered with difficulty, and his breathing turned into short, ragged gasps.
Yan Mo said, tired, his hoarse voice barely escaping his dry throat: "This was truly exhausting."
He raised his trembling hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead, his fingers shaking noticeably. He tilted his head back, looking at the orange sky that was about to disappear.
"I think that's enough for today. At this rate, if I continue like this, I'll faint."
He tried to stand, nearly falling. He held onto a nearby rock, the veins in his hand bulging from the effort. He breathed with difficulty.
"My body is weak and not suitable for meditation."
In the Han family mansion, the clan leader, Han Moring, was sitting on his chair.
He frowned deeply, his narrow eyes nearly disappearing behind the wrinkles of anger. His fingers tapped on the arm of the chair in a nervous rhythm, and a muscle in his jaw twitched with suppressed rage.
"How dare Yan Mo do this? I will make sure he is punished."
The head butler stood beside him, his thin lips tracing a faint, barely noticeable smile. His shifty eyes hid many things behind them.
Then Yan Mo returned.
The sound of his tired footsteps was heard in the outer hall. One of the servants jumped from his spot, his face yellow with fear. His hands trembled violently as he approached.
A servant said, trembling: "Sir... the clan leader wants you immediately."
At that moment, Yan Mo scrutinized the servant.
His gaze was very cold.
The servant felt as if the air around him had frozen. His knees nearly trembled, and he swallowed audibly. His eyes fled to the floor.
But Yan Mo said, "Is this one of the head butler's schemes?"
Yan Mo's voice was calm, but the coldness in it made the servant shiver. The servant trembled violently, his lips quivering without uttering a word.
But Yan Mo looked at the servant, stared at his pale face for a long moment, then told him to lead him to the clan leader's location.
Yan Mo and the servant entered.
The hall was spacious, the burning candles on the walls casting moving shadows. The clan leader sat at the top, with the head butler standing beside him, his face rigid.
Then the servant said in a barely audible, trembling voice: "Sir... yes, the young master had... as I already told you. He forced me to kill one of the most loyal servants?!"
His last words stammered, and cold sweat rolled down his forehead.
Then Han Moring looked towards Yan, his narrow eyes glaring at him with blazing anger, and said, "Yan Mo, do you have any justification for this?"
Yan Mo looked at the clan leader, Han Moring, with complete calm.
His face was pale from exhaustion, his eyes bloodshot, but his expression was as steady as if carved from stone. His eyes did not blink, his lips did not tremble. It was as if he hadn't just heard a serious accusation.
Then he smiled a faint smile.
It was a barely visible smile, just a small parting at the corner of his lips, but it carried something that sent a chill down the head butler's spine.
He said, "Interesting."
The hall froze for a moment.
The servants on the periphery almost stopped breathing. The shadows on the walls seemed to freeze with them.
Yan Mo continued in a calm voice, "The head butler says I forced him to kill a servant..."
Then he slowly looked at the head butler.
The look was very slow, as if he wanted everyone in the hall to feel its weight. Yan Mo's eyes moved from the clan leader to the head butler with calculated slowness.
"But I only have one simple question."
He took one step forward.
The sound of his step on the marble floor echoed in the silence of the hall. The head butler took a barely noticeable step back, and his hidden hands began to sweat.
Then Yan Mo slightly narrowed his eyes.
It was a slight narrowing, but it turned his cold features into something more dangerous. Like a tiger about to pounce.
"If I really forced you... why are you still alive?"
Silence fell over the hall.
The silence was so heavy that the sound of the head butler's breathing became audible. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, and his hands behind his back began to tremble uncontrollably.
The head butler sweated.
Sweat covered his entire forehead, droplets seeping into his eyes, making him blink nervously. His lips moved without sound, as if he was trying to speak but the words were stuck in his throat.
Yan Mo continued coldly, his voice like a knife touching the throat: "If I could force you to kill a servant... then forcing you into silence or killing you would be much easier."
No one dared to speak.
The head butler seemed to melt in place. His colour changed from red to pale, and his knees nearly trembled.
Then Yan Mo turned towards Han Moring.
His movement was slow and deliberate, as if he wanted everyone to absorb every detail. His eyes moved from the trembling head butler to the frowning clan leader.
He said, "Secondly... that servant who died."
And he pointed slowly.
His finger rose in the air very slowly, stopping to point at nothing specific, but everyone understood his meaning.
"Did the head butler forget to tell you that he tried to poison me first?"
The expressions of some of those present shifted.
Eyes widened. Barely audible whispers circulated among the servants on the periphery.
The clan leader's beard trembled with anger: "What is this? I haven't heard anything like this before!"
His resounding voice bounced off the walls. His already wide eyes widened further, and redness covered his face.
The head butler replied in a faltering voice: "I... I... actually, I didn't know. Trust me, sir!"
His face was as pale as paper, his bluish lips trembling violently. His rough hands clasped together in supplication before him, his back bending slightly.
The head butler had thought Yan Mo wasn't conscious yesterday, and that he would be as usual, silent and accepting punishment.
Then the clan leader said angrily, the veins on his forehead bulging: "Arrest him!"
Then, no one remained in the hall except Yan Mo and the clan leader.
Yan Mo knew that the one who made the head butler do this was someone else; it was impossible for someone to do such a stupid thing.
Then the clan leader asked Yan Mo harshly, his voice like thunder: "Did you let the servants become this arrogant? Do you see how your kindness has brought you to this state? I don't know what changed you this time, but I know that servants remain servants, and that having servants who fear you is nothing to be proud of. It's something you are born with, being my son!"
Then Yan Mo looked towards the clan leader with his eyes.
In Yan Mo's eyes, a strange image from the past was reflected—an image of the clan leader hanging, dead.
That terrifying image lasted only a second.
Then Yan Mo said in a frighteningly calm voice: "I understand."
Then the clan leader said, his voice losing some of its harshness: "You may leave now."
"Yes."
Then Yan Mo left.
The clan leader's eyes narrowed behind him, questions swirling in his mind.
Outside, Yan Mo was heading to his room until his second brother suddenly came to him.
The second brother stood in his way, his arrogant face wearing a mocking smile. His hands were crossed over his chest, his haughty posture filling the space.
The second said arrogantly, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear: "Look at this! Poor child! Hehe, you stupid idiot!"
His mocking laugh echoed in the place. The servants around them looked, then quickly lowered their heads.
Yan Mo replied with complete coldness, his brows not furrowing, his features not changing: "So, is there anything else you want to say?"
The second brother followed Yan Mo as he stepped closer, his narrow eyes gleaming with sarcasm: "Do you know why the Han clan despises you? Because you are weak! The clan's law states: survival of the fittest. You must not forget that. Regardless of whether mother or father loves you, the law is what matters most!"
Then Yan Mo looked at him.
The look was long, cold, as if he was looking at something not worth noticing. Then he turned and left.
But the second brother shouted: "Yan Mo, you bastard! Are you trying to ignore me?!"
And he ran towards him quickly, his hand reaching out to grab his shoulder.
But Yan Mo took the wooden hairpin that was tied in his hair.
And suddenly, he moved.
The movement was so fast that no one saw it clearly. His exhausted body moved like an arrow, turning towards his brother who had run towards him quickly.
And he calmly stabbed the hairpin into his brother's hand.
Blood sprayed into the air like red ribbons.
The second brother said, looking at his hand pinned to the ground, completely shocked. His eyes widened abnormally, his mouth opened in a scream that hadn't yet come out. For a moment, he seemed not to understand what had happened.
Then he started screaming.
"Ah! Ah! What is this? Painful! Yan Mo, what did you do to me? My arm!"
His scream was sharp and piercing. Blood flowed from around the wooden hairpin, covering his hand and dripping onto the ground.
But when the second brother raised his face, he was shocked.
He saw Yan Mo's face.
It was unclear. His features seemed to ripple and change. He resembled a monster. The intent to kill was terrifyingly insane.
At that moment, the second brother had wet his pants.
The smell spread, the warm liquid flowed down his legs unnoticed. His eyes were filled with genuine terror, his whole body trembling like a frightened child.
Yan Mo ignored him.
He pulled the wooden hairpin from his brother's hand nonchalantly, causing more blood to spray, and headed towards his room. He didn't want to cause trouble, but they made him do things that required him to use force.
Then, after a few minutes, a servant of the clan leader's young master entered, saying the clan leader wanted him.
And as Yan Mo entered, suddenly, a large vase was swinging in the air. It struck his head hard.
The glass shattered, scattered shards flying in all directions. Blood flowed down his face, covering his forehead and cheek.
But Yan Mo was cold.
He didn't flinch, didn't scream, didn't raise his hand to wipe the blood covering his face. He stood firm, the red blood contrasting with his pale complexion.
Yan Mo looked at the clan leader, Han Moring, without blinking.
Blood still streamed down his face, seeping into his eyes, making them water slightly, but he didn't care. He didn't raise his hand to wipe it. He stood with blood covering half his face like a red mask.
Then he said very calmly: "Sir... isn't the Han clan's law clear?"
His voice was so calm compared to the blood covering his face. The contrast was shocking.
The clan leader's brows furrowed. His narrow eyes stared at the blood-smeared Yan Mo.
Yan Mo continued in a voice as calm as still water: "Survival of the fittest."
He turned his head slightly towards the outside where his brother's screaming still echoed. The intermittent screams and audible moaning filled the area.
Then he said indifferently: "My eldest brother was reminding me of this law just moments ago."
He paused for a moment.
His blood-smeared face showed no expression. Then he smiled a faint smile.
It was a terrifying smile on that blood-covered face.
"So I decided to apply it."
Han Moring's anger intensified. The veins on his forehead bulged, and his voice came out like an angry growl: "This is your brother!"
Yan Mo raised his eyes very slowly.
His gaze was so cold it made the atmosphere in the hall heavy. Even the candles seemed to dim. The blood on his face made the blue in his eyes appear even stranger and more dangerous.
Then he said in a faint but clear voice like a bell: "Brother?"
He laughed a very short laugh.
It was a dry laugh, empty of any warmth. Just a sound that came from his throat without his features forming any real smile.
"I haven't heard the law mention anything called brotherhood."
He took one step forward.
The sound of his step on the floor was heavy in the silence of the hall. The blood still flowed, and a drop fell to the ground, making a faint sound.
"If the weak deserve contempt..."
Then he said with terrifying coldness, his eyes staring directly into the clan leader's eyes: "Then the strongest have the right to punish."
A heavy silence fell.
The silence was deadly. The clan leader didn't utter a word, his eyes widening slightly as he stared at his blood-smeared son.
Then Yan Mo said with deadly calm: "In fact... you should reward me."
The clan leader's face froze.
His features hardened completely. His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. He couldn't believe what he heard.
Yan Mo continued in a calm voice as blood dripped from his chin: "Today I proved something important for the Han clan."
Then he raised his finger slightly.
The bloodstained finger rose slowly.
"That the clan's law is not just words."
And he pointed his bloodstained finger towards the outside, where his brother's screaming was still audible.
"Even your son... is no exception."
Then he looked directly into Han Moring's eyes and said very slowly, his words emerging like drops of ice: "Isn't preserving the dignity of the clan's law... an achievement?"
Silence.
The clan leader was silent. His wide eyes stared at Yan Mo, and a pulse was visible in the veins of his neck.
Then Yan Mo finished his speech with deadly coldness: "If you punish me for applying your law... then that means the law of survival of the fittest... is just a lie."
The last word hung in the air like poison. The clan leader retreated slightly in his chair, barely noticeably, and his eyes widened for a moment before narrowing again.
Yan Mo stood his ground, blood covering his face, his blue eyes gleaming with cold defiance. He did not lower his gaze, nor did he tremble. He stood like a statue, waiting.
To be continued...