Ch 23: Memories -2

Feng Liang's blood boiled. He wanted to step in, to strike down these men, to save the boy... his ancestor... from this cruelty. But he couldn't. His hands passed through everything. He was nothing more than a spectator to this nightmare, powerless to change anything.

"Let's just finish the job, boss," one of the men sneered from the back, holding a large blade in his hand.

"He's just a runt. No point keeping him alive."

The leader straightened, sneering down at Cheon Dan.

"Nah, he's more fun this way. Look at him. All that anger in his eyes, but he can't do a damn thing about it."

Cheon Dan's fists tightened behind his back, his nails digging into his palms so hard they bled. He said nothing, but his gaze never wavered, locked on the ground.

Feng Liang's heart clenched painfully. He could feel the boy's rage. It was the same burning fury he had felt all those years ago, as Cheon Meng, when he was abandoned by his own family. That helpless, crushing rage that came from being powerless in the face of overwhelming cruelty.

The leader of the group smirked and turned on his heel, gesturing for his men to follow.

"Let's leave the little rat to stew. I like watching him squirm." He cast one last mocking glance at Cheon Dan.

"Remember this, boy... you'll never be anything. You'll die here, just like your parents. Weak and forgotten."

His words were venomous, meant to cut deep, and they succeeded. Cheon Dan's lips pressed even tighter together, his face pale with rage, but still, he said nothing.

His silence only seemed to amuse the group further. The men filed out, their cruel laughter echoing through the small cottage as they slammed the door behind them.

Silence filled the room once more, but it was the kind of silence that came with the weight of unshed tears, the silence of suffocating anger and grief.

Cheon Dan didn't move for several minutes. His fists remained clenched tightly behind his back, his small body trembling with the effort it took to hold himself together.

Feng Liang stood there, helpless, watching his ancestor's suffering unfold before his eyes. He had read about this moment in the scriptures, but seeing it firsthand was something else entirely. The agony, the helplessness... it was far more vivid than anything the ancient texts could describe.

So this is what he endured, Feng Liang thought, his heart heavy. This is where it all began.

Cheon Dan eventually stood, his legs unsteady, his fists still clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white. His eyes, which had once gleamed with sorrow and pain, now carried something else... something far darker. The rage inside him hadn't diminished. If anything, it had grown, bubbling beneath the surface like a volcano waiting to erupt.

The boy took a deep breath, and for the first time, he spoke, his voice low and trembling with barely contained fury.

"What else do you want from me? Was killing my parents not enough?" Cheon Dan's voice was barely more than a whisper, but it was laced with bitterness. His eyes burned with hatred, but they were also wet with unshed tears.

Feng Liang's heart clenched painfully. He could feel the boy's rage, his grief, his helplessness. He understood it all too well. For a moment, he saw himself in Cheon Dan... the same rage he had felt as Cheon Meng, the same overwhelming anger at the cruelty of the world.

Tears began to flow silently down Cheon Dan's face, but no sound escaped him. He was beyond wailing, beyond crying out for help. His small frame trembled with the effort of keeping his emotions in check, his fists shaking as they dug into his palms, drawing blood.

And yet, the boy didn't make a sound.

Feng Liang's chest tightened with grief. He wanted to comfort the boy, to tell him it would get better, that he would rise above this moment. But what could he say? He was nothing more than a ghost in this memory, unable to touch or change anything. All he could do was watch.

As the minutes passed, Cheon Dan finally moved. Slowly, he wiped his tears with the back of his hand, his expression hardening. His small fists loosened slightly, though his hands still shook from the force of his suppressed emotions.

He walked toward the door, his steps shaky but determined. Outside, the fading echoes of the men's laughter still hung in the air, but Cheon Dan ignored it. He stepped outside the cottage, the cold wind biting at his bruised skin as he was met with the mocking stares and cruel grins of those who had tormented him.

There was a sea of villagers, each one sneering, each one looking down on him as if he were no more than dirt beneath their feet. Their hatred and malice filled the air, so thick that it was almost suffocating.

But Cheon Dan did not react. His face remained stoic, his hands clasped behind his back as if he were hiding his pain. He had learned long ago that any show of emotion would only bring more cruelty.

Feng Liang stood in the doorway, watching as the scene unfolded before him. He felt the weight of it all... the overwhelming hatred of the villagers, the quiet defiance in Cheon Dan's eyes, the suffocating despair that had taken root in the boy's heart.

So this is what the real cultivation world looked like, Feng Liang thought, his heart heavy with sorrow. Selfish and ruthless. A place where the strong crushed the weak without a second thought.

Cheon Dan's expression was unreadable as he stood there, his back straight, his head held high. But inside, Feng Liang knew, the boy was screaming. He could feel it... the boy's seething anger, his frustration, his helplessness. But Cheon Dan remained silent, his rage simmering beneath the surface like a dormant volcano, waiting for the day it could erupt.

For a long moment, the villagers simply watched him, sneering and mocking, but eventually, they grew bored. One by one, they turned away, leaving the boy standing alone in front of the cottage, abandoned to his misery.

Cheon Dan let out a slow breath, his eyes scanning the empty space where the villagers had stood. His body remained still, but his mind was racing. He was calculating, plotting, thinking about the future... about the power he would one day seize. And Feng Liang could see it, could feel it in his bones... This was the moment that shaped Cheon Dan's destiny.

This was the day Cheon Dan became more than just a helpless boy. It was the day the fire of ambition was ignited in his heart. The day he vowed to rise above his tormentors, to claim power, and to never let anyone have control over him again.

Feng Liang felt a chill run down his spine. This is where it began, he thought. The path that led to the founding of the Heavenly Demon Sect. The rage, the thirst for power... it all started here, in this moment.