Prologue

In the depths of the forests he lay, the great marshal of the Tianyou kingdom, struggling to breathe with all those wounds on his back, a warrior's shame.

Rumored to be the man who scared off his enemies with only his gaze, the undefeated man, the unyielding warrior, one who could fend off even death itself and whatnot. Yet, the irony of fate! He was lying on his deathbed, bleeding incessantly as it soaked the premises in red.

"Amitabha! Sir, how did you get injured so severely?!" A voice reached his ears. A man in a saffron loin cloth, a monk, stood near him. Although quite old, he gave off a vibrant warmth that could soothe any soul.

"Cough, cough," the marshal tried to speak, "Monk! Can you treat me?" The marshal inquired in a demanding tone.

"Amitabha! I'm afraid I'm not capable of doing so," came the reply.

"Ack!!" The marshal coughed blood as he went on, "Then you'd better leave me by myself, lest you get killed if anyone notices you". Out of habit, he ordered in an imposing tone.

Unfazed by the notion, the monk asked, "Would you like me to carry you to our shelter nearby? Maybe there we can apply some herbs for temporary medication?"

The marshal knew it would be pointless. If he moves too much, all his wounds would open up and he would die almost instantly.

He gasped for some air and, this time in a firmer voice, said, "I appreciate your offer, but kindly leave me in solace. This might just be an atonement for my sinful life."

"Then I will pray to the almighty Buddha for your good. Amitabha!" The monk smiled like he knew something, as he walked on chanting his sutras. Before leaving, the monk laid the marshal on the roots of the huge old banyan tree he was under.

It must've stood here for generations and witnessed the rise of the kingdom. Today, the banyan will also witness the grim fate that had befallen the country. He thought. He imagined the flames engulfing the citizens and the history of the kingdom. All he felt was rage at his incapability to stop this senseless massacre.

"Who'd have ever expected the great marshal to be lying in the forest in such a pitiable state?" The train of thoughts stopped, as a snickering remark came from a familiar voice. He could never mistake that voice. Soon, that seed of doubt sprouted in a heart-wrenching reality. A familiar face emerged from amidst the rustling of the bushes. His face showed a surprising expression, despite being betrayed!

"Hahaha... Ack!! Cough!! Cough!!" blood gushed out his mouth as he laughed violently. "What a blasphemy! To think I raised a traitor right under my nose, this must be divine retribution for all my sins." The marshal hissed, disgusted by himself.

"You are not the one at fault, sir," the guy seemed to soften his tone. "As someone so loyal to the throne and devoted to the king's orders, it was no surprise you were oblivious to the rebels that slowly rose in numbers."

"You devotion turned into short-sightedness as time passed by. So many times..." his voice shaky for a moment, "many times, I have seen people being extorted and exploited, but all you saw was the king, without even realising that you have always been nothing more than a tool to him." The guy tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword in the beautifully carved wooden scabbard as he mouthed those words.

It took a moment for the words to get through the marshal. Confused, he grunted, "Your foolish attempts to take over this kingdom would not stand firm for long. At the end, justice will prevail!!" He then had to hold his chest as he coughed and struggled to breathe.

"It seems you still don't understand," the guy with a battle-scarred armour adorning his muscular figure sighed, "I do not want to shake your beliefs while on your deathbed, but, the kingdom you'd sworn to protect was engulfed in darkness of the insanity of the king's ideals and sought liberty desperately."

The marshal, in disbelief, shut his eyes and averted from his direction, refusing to acknowledge the words and the underlying ideals.

"I guess it is hard to understand or even believe in something so suddenly and I don't blame you for that, but we will surely rebuild the country in a place far better than the hell it had..."

The marshal interrupted, "Setting ablaze the houses of hundreds if not thousands of common people, ravaging through their crops, stripping off their lives, is that how your revolution is? Is that how your idea of liberation is shaped?"

"Some sacrifices are necessary in order for true justice to prevail and take form," the guy said firmly.

"I do not remember teaching you that justice asks for sacrifice. Now go away!! Let me have a death without any more animosity towards you or this baseless vision of yours," the marshal shouted with all that was left in him.

"As you wish! I hope you have a peaceful death in this beautiful forest." Saying so, he turned around to leave, as he mumbled, "but, marshal, I must thank you for all you've done for me, I have always respected you and," his voice quivered "thought of you as my very own father." He left abruptly.

"You... too... were the only... son... I've ever had," muttered the marshal as he breathed his last. The last drop of tears swiftly rolled down his cheeks.