That day, that sword became a turning point in Ruo Wen’s life. He was ruthless, absolute, and bold. These qualities naturally caused the younger generation of bandits, already oppressed by their elders, to instinctively follow him. That night, Ruo Wen brought his mother to his tent, commanding her to unsheathe the sword. Ruo Jun looked at the son she had birthed, now growing more and more like Hou, and her heart filled with hatred. So, she used her blood to wipe the blade clean, chanting a curse through the night to awaken the sword. Though she was the only one conducting the ritual, it was as if her faith had found direction, summoning a new leader. From that point on, many began secretly pledging allegiance to Ruo Wen. By the time he was eighteen, he was already leading his own men on independent raids.
Blood ties are a primal instinct. Those who deny them are rare. Hou was such a man. In the bandit circles, no one stopped the women from bearing children, but if they did, there was no expectation of nurturing or care. Unless a woman chose to raise her child, the child would be left to die without anyone batting an eye. Hou, growing older, was no longer invincible. Though his influence remained unshaken, his efforts to control Ruo Wen eventually led to inevitable conflict between the two generations.
Ruo Wen commanded only about two hundred men, far fewer than Hou’s two thousand. But every time Ruo Wen led a raid, his spoils were the richest, unmatched by any other. Yet, each time he returned to camp, he had to give two-thirds of his loot to Hou. The remaining third had to be won through duels. Hou used this method to suppress Ruo Wen, but over time, Ruo Wen’s followers grew resentful. Under the leadership of Cheng Xiang, they began urging Ruo Wen to break free and establish his own territory. Ruo Wen immediately swore an oath with them, and they began planning their escape.
The future was uncertain, but Ruo Wen never hesitated. He knew he needed his own men and land. However, as he looked up at the dark sky, starless and cold, the wind howling around his sword, his thoughts unexpectedly turned to two women—his mother, Ruo Jun, and his sister, Qing Chun.
"Brother!"
The night was bitterly cold. Qing Chun, wrapped in a black fur cloak, stood behind Ruo Wen. She knew that although he never spoke to her, if anyone else were standing behind him, they would have been killed by his blade. For the past ten years, she had only ever called him two words: "Brother." These were the words her mother had taught her, but after teaching her what "brother" meant, Ruo Jun had died in disgrace in the red tent. Left unprotected, Qing Chun instinctively clung to Ruo Wen, for he was the only other person with eyes like hers, violet and haunting.
Ruo Wen didn’t turn around. The only person who ever called him "brother" was her, and she was the only one he had ever thought of as a sister. When he didn’t respond, Qing Chun stepped forward and gently wrapped her arms around him from behind. "Brother, the fur cloak you gave me—Hou wanted it, but I didn’t give it to him."
Something felt off. Ruo Wen turned abruptly, yanking the cloak open, exposing Qing Chun’s pale skin to the freezing wind, revealing bruises and wounds all over her body.
"Who did this?" Ruo Wen spoke to her for the first time.
Qing Chun turned her head away, pulling the cloak back around herself. "Brother, I haven’t been pure for a long time. Hou’s men have all had their way with me. But I’m smart. I made sure that my suffering wasn’t for nothing. I whispered into their ears, making sure Hou never truly decided to kill you."
Ruo Wen tightened his grip on her arm. The little girl who used to hide and call him brother, the one he thought he could protect simply by letting her live quietly—she had walked this cruel path while he remained blind to it. He had always wondered when Hou would make his move, but year after year passed, and nothing happened.
So this was the truth? So this was how it had been?
Qing Chun smiled faintly, pulling her head deeper into her cloak for warmth. Her eyes sparkled, just as beautiful as every time Ruo Wen had seen them. "Brother, are you leaving? I—"
"I’ll take you with me!" Ruo Wen interrupted before she could finish. He didn’t care what she was about to say. Tightening the cloak around her, he said clearly, "I’m going to establish my own camp. You’re coming with me. When I go on raids, you’ll manage the camp. When I return victorious, you’ll stand at the gate and greet me. You are my sister. You won’t have to serve any man you don’t want to. If anyone touches you again, I’ll kill them."
Qing Chun wept silently. After all these years, she had never dared hope to hear such words from her brother.
Yet, as Ruo Wen watched her cry, he didn’t blink. For the first time, he felt a strange sense of pity for her. He pulled her into his arms, shielding her from the wind with his worn-out cloak. Then, looking out into the black night, he smiled and said, "Qing Chun, heaven has its ways, and the underworld has its bridges. But in this world, the path is paved with blood."
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