Burying the Heart

Xing Wuye walked slowly through the ruined remains of the sect, the lifeless body of Mei Ling in his arms. Her once radiant face, now pale and still, stared up at the sky. His steps were heavy, each one weighing down his soul. The devastation around him mirrored the emptiness inside. The pavilions were shattered, the peaks scarred, and the ground still trembled from the aftershocks of the battle. It felt as though his heart had broken along with the sect.

He eventually found a quiet, untouched spot by the waterfall where they once laughed and teased each other. 

Xing Wuye knelt in front of a hastily dug grave, staring down at the lifeless body of Mei Ling. Her face, once so full of warmth and life, now pale and cold, rested motionless on the simple bed of dirt. His hands trembled as he placed her body gently into the earth, his heart breaking with every passing second. He had washed her body in a nearby stream, cleaned the filth of that unspeakable act away, but no matter what he did, it couldn't wash away the pain, the emptiness.

The sky above remained dull and gray, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and decay, as though the heavens themselves were mourning with him. Wuye's throat felt dry, his eyes burned, but no more tears fell. His soul felt hollow, numb. He sat beside her grave for what felt like days, unmoving. His thoughts drifted like a boat lost at sea, but they always returned to her—the one who had given him warmth, happiness, and a reason to smile despite everything.

After an eternity, he reached into his robes and pulled out the one thing he had managed to salvage—the hairpin she always wore, the one she had teased him about when he would touch it absentmindedly. Gently, he laid it in the dirt beside her head. His hands dug through the soil, burying her, along with the last piece of his heart.

He let out a long, shuddering breath, but the weight of grief didn't leave him. Instead, it clung to him like a heavy chain, dragging him down into an abyss he wasn't sure he could climb out of.

He sat there in silence, days passing in a blur, until the feeling of hunger and thirst finally snapped him back to reality. The reality that Mei Ling was gone, and with her, any semblance of happiness he had ever known.

Wuye stood up, his legs stiff and aching, his body screaming at him to rest. But there would be no rest. Not now. Not ever again.

Wandering through the dense forest, Wuye's steps were heavy, yet his eyes were sharp, scanning the trees and bushes for any sign of danger. His hand rested loosely on the hilt of his sword, his Qi coiling like a snake ready to strike. The beasts of the forest were drawn to him, their eyes glowing with hunger and malice, but every time one leapt from the shadows, Wuye cut them down with ruthless efficiency.

Blood splattered across the forest floor as beasts fell one by one. Some large, some small, but all fell before him like leaves in the wind. His heart had gone cold—there was no hesitation in his actions, no fear, and certainly no mercy.

For days, he wandered aimlessly through the forest, each kill bringing him no satisfaction, no relief from the gnawing emptiness in his chest. He moved with the precision of a machine, cutting down anything that crossed his path. His mind was elsewhere, lost in the past, with Mei Ling.

Eventually, the dense forest thinned, giving way to the sprawling outskirts of a large city. The towering walls loomed ahead, and the sounds of people filled the air—merchants haggling, children laughing, carts rolling over cobblestones. Life continued, even when his had crumbled.

Wuye walked through the city gates, blending into the crowd. But even among the throngs of people, he felt utterly alone. His eyes scanned the streets, searching for something, anything that would bring him a sense of peace. But there was nothing—only the suffocating emptiness that had settled in his chest.

He wandered for hours, walking down winding streets and narrow alleys, his gaze drifting from one scene of city life to the next. People went about their lives, unaware of the storm raging inside him. Eventually, his aimless wandering brought him to a bar. The dimly lit interior offered a temporary reprieve from the chaos of the city outside, and he entered without a second thought.

The scent of cheap ale and roasted meat filled the air as Wuye sat at a small table in the corner, staring down at the drink before him. He lifted the mug to his lips and drank deeply, the bitter liquid sliding down his throat. But no matter how much he drank, he didn't feel any different. His cultivation kept the alcohol from clouding his mind, and he was left as clear-headed as ever, his heart aching with the same dull pain.

He was barely paying attention when a group of rough-looking men entered the bar, their loud voices cutting through the low murmur of conversation. They ordered drinks and food, taking up a table on the opposite side of the room. Wuye's eyes flicked toward them, watching as they settled in, their crude laughter grating on his nerves.

"Hey, where's your wife?" one of the men called out, his voice slurred with arrogance. The man they spoke to was a small, hunched figure, his face lined with worry and fear. "We want her to serve us!"

The man's face turned pale as he stammered, "S-she's in the back, making the food. Please, sirs, she—"

"Tell her to come out!" the thug interrupted, banging his fist on the table. "We want her to serve us, not hide away in the kitchen."

The official sitting at the table nearby began to rise, his brow furrowed in disapproval. But before he could say anything, one of the thugs sneered at him. "You'd better sit back down unless you want trouble with the Black Skull Gang."

The official's eyes widened in recognition, and he sank back into his chair, his face paling. Wuye's grip on his mug tightened, his knuckles turning white. His heart twisted in his chest as he watched the scene unfold. The thug's arrogance, the fear in the woman's husband's eyes—it all reminded him of that day. The day he lost everything.

The woman was called out from the kitchen, her face pale but resolute. As she brought the food and drinks to the men, one of them reached out and grabbed her backside with a disgusting grin. The woman smacked his hand away, her voice trembling with anger.

The thug's smile vanished, replaced with a snarl. "You'll regret that," he growled, standing up and grabbing her by the arm. The woman struggled, but he was too strong, dragging her toward the back of the bar. "I'll teach you some manners."

Her husband fell to his knees, begging, "Please! Don't hurt her! I'll do anything!"

Wuye sat in silence, his mind reeling. For a moment, he had planned to do nothing. It wasn't his problem. But then, in his mind's eye, he saw Mei Ling. Her smile, her laughter, her kindness.

And then, the image of her lifeless body flashed before him, and something inside him snapped.

He stood up slowly, his eyes cold as ice. The three remaining men turned to him, their expressions mocking. "Hey, sit back down or get out. This isn't your business."

Before the man could finish his sentence, his lower jaw was missing, blood spraying across the table. The other two barely had time to react before Wuye's Qi surged out, slitting their throats with an invisible blade of energy. They fell to the ground in a pool of blood, gurgling in their final moments.

Wuye walked calmly into the back room. Moments later, he emerged, holding the last thug's head by the hair. He tossed it onto the table in front of the bar owner, who stared in horror.

"Th-thank you..." the man stammered, his face pale.

Wuye looked at him with disgust. "Weakness is a sin," he muttered coldly. "You'll pay for it someday."

The official at the other table averted his gaze, unable to meet Wuye's eyes. In that moment, he realized that the stories of daoists and their speed were true. Wuye had moved faster than his eyes could follow.

Without another word, Wuye left the bar, stepping back into the city streets. But no matter how many people he killed, no matter how much blood he spilled, the emptiness in his heart remained.

And he knew, deep down, that it always would.