A house stood there, its door marked with the seal’s insignia. Han Jun walked in. The sound of his steps echoed in the entrance hall.
The wind howled through the doors and windows, a dirge carrying the scent of ash and forgotten prayers. A figure emerged from the mist, cloaked in black. His steps were slow and deliberate, each movement a negotiation with pain.
The clanging of chains, rubbing against the floor, made him stop. Han Jun could feel Xue Wuheng’s breath in the shadows.
"I never thought you would ever come to see me," Xue Wuheng’s voice was a dry whisper.
Han Jun clenched his jaw, suppressing his rage. Xue Wuheng walked slowly around him, the chains following, a rhythmic sound in the silence.
"How long has it been?" Xue Wuheng asked, the question slow and deliberate. "A hundred... two hundred years?"
"Two thousand years," Han Jun said, his voice flat.
Xue Wuheng faced him. "Time seems to move slowly here... junior brother." Han Jun finally got to see him.
The robe Xue Wuheng wore was tattered, yet it clung to him like shadow incarnate. A hood veiled his face, casting it in darkness, but his presence stirred unease.
He stopped inches in front of him, one more step and their noses woulf touch. He tilted his head slightly. The smile that curled beneath the hood was both charming and unpleasant, a melody played on broken strings. It was the smile of someone who remembered beauty but had long since abandoned it. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he pulled back the hood.
The face was a ruin of former glory. Cracks ran across his skin like fault lines, some deep enough to expose the pale, crumbling flesh beneath. His complexion was a sickly shade, neither living nor dead, but something in between. Yet, there was an allure in his suffering. His features, though marred, retained the echo of divine elegance. He was a portrait of agony painted with the brush of grace.
Xue Wuheng looked like a black rose in its final bloom, ethereal, wilting, and impossibly captivating. His eyes, sunken and rimmed with shadow, still held the glint of celestial fire. But it was no longer the fire of justice or ambition. It was the fire of vengeance, slow-burning and patient.
He raised his hand. The Seal of Zhēnmiè Yù was still etched into his wrist, pulsing faintly.
He walked to a small set of stairs and sat on the high seat, the only one in the hall. He rested his arms on the armrests, his legs spread wide, and stared at his junior brother with a sneer.
Han Jun didn’t mince words. He suppressed his rage and the urge to kill him. "How did you get out?"
Xue Wuheng feigned confusion before bursting into laughter. He laughed so hard a single tear flowed from the corner of his eye.
Han Jun unleashed his divine power. An invisible force pressed Xue Wuheng against the backrest of his chair. He could withstand the pressure, but barely. He was a sickly mortal now, and any more pressure would kill him. The divine chains only made him weaker. Xue Wuheng was getting paler, but he still smirked, a confusing emotion in his eyes.
Han Jun was enraged. He hurled Xue Wuheng across the hall. He fell to the ground with a loud clang of chains. Xue Wuheng hit the wall hard, then collapsed to the floor. But Han Jun wasn’t done. He smashed him into the wall several more times, leaving a deep dent. The wall cracked and crumbled. Xue Wuheng was thrown outside, rolling on the ground three times as he grimaced in pain.
Han Jun was a beast toying with his food before tearing it apart. His eyes were terrifying, his aura like an unleashed monster on a rampage. Han Jun walked out, his steps swift and intimidating.
Xue Wuheng, his face covered in cuts and bruises, vomited a mouthful of blood while clutching his chest. Despite his situation, he started laughing again while Han Jun stood over him, livid.
"I took great care of you when you were a scrawny kid," Xue Wuheng said, his voice raspy. "But when I needed you the most, you put me here... You are heartless, Little Ju."
Han Jun didn’t forget. Xue Wuheng was there for him when he was an outer disciple, bullied and with nothing. Xue Wuheng was who he aspired to be, and he had worked day and night, cultivating, just so he could one day be his junior brother. He finally succeeded.
Together, under the same master, they were famous. They eradicated evil and saved countless mortals. When the demon realm ran rampant in the mortal world, they were on the front lines, fighting together.
He had admired Xue Wuheng and worked thrice as hard to keep up with him. That is until that fateful day. The day he found out what he did to ascend to the Divine Realm.
Han Jun had seen it. He had witnessed it with his own eyes. Xue Wuheng, the paragon of divinity, had slaughtered an immortal with a Nascent soul and absorbed his core. How Xue Wuheng had done it, Han Jun didn’t know. He only knew he had to distance himself.
Xue Wuheng, to this day, didn’t know why his closest confidant had suddenly become a stranger. He had no idea that Han Jun had seen him that day.
He continued to laugh, the sound hollow and self-deprecating. "You abandoned me and gave me a cold shoulder for thousands of years. Why?... Why?!" His voice was raspy, laced with genuine confusion and pain.
Han Jun clenched his jaw, struggling to restrain himself. Xue Wuheng wasn’t going to let it go. He wanted to know why the man he loved had just disappeared from his life with no warning. He had even confessed his feelings before Han Jun had thrown him into this hell hole, but Han Jun had been merciless.
Xue Wuheng’s expression turned stern. "Why?" His voice was loud, fierce.
"I saw you," Han Jun finally said, the words a bitter echo. "I saw you kill that man and absorb his power. That’s what demons do... and you, the look on your face... I couldn’t even recognize you. Why? What was the hurry that you were so desperate to ascend?"