The midnight oil burned low.
The smell of candle wax lingered in the air as the night's creatures sang softly, bringing a fragile sense of peace.
A figure sat alone.
Lost.
Dazed beyond recovery.
Pen, ink, and paper moved as one—blending into a quiet, relentless symphony.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch.
The sound of pen against paper echoed through the chamber, uneven breaths and faint hums weaving through the air.
Piles upon piles of books surrounded him, their shadows stretching endlessly across the walls.
Li Mu did not look up.
"Knowledge is the key…" he muttered.
The pen trembled in his grasp.
"Then why…"
—BANG!
The door burst open.
Midnight air flooded the room.
Cold wind surged inward, scattering scrolls, spilling ink—
Snap.
The pen broke.
His ears rang.
Slowly, his heartbeat rose to fill the void—steady at first… then louder.
Stronger.
"Why…" he whispered,
"does man turn to slaughter at the slightest disagreement?"
His eyes unfocused, thoughts spiraling inward.
His breath grew ragged. Dry. Restless.
Desperate
His heartbeat quickened.
He stood.
Step by step, he walked toward the balcony.
The cold night air greeted him.
His hand reached out.
A blade rested nearby.
He lifted it.
Its surface gleamed with quiet elegance—almost beautifully. Yet beneath that grace lay something colder.
Ancient.
A killing intent seeped into the air.
But aimed at whom?
Swoosh.
The blade cut through the void.
The air shifted—as if recoiling.
"Slaughter…" Li Mu murmured.
"Essence, blood, violence… is this knowledge in its most primal form?"
Swoosh.
"Is it wrong to kill?"
A pause.
His palms grew damp.
His breathing tightened.
A silent battle raged within his mind.
Then—
"No…"
"If the goal is achieved… the victor decides what is right."
"So if slaughter is the only path left…"
His voice lowered.
"…does man remain alive under Heaven?"
Silence answered him.
The wind picked up, whispering against the blade.
His grip tightened.
"Because…"
His voice faltered.
"…because Insight is a sin most men carry."
A breath.
"Conscience… is the burden that follows."
The blade fell—
—and stopped.
Caught.
Li Mu's eyes sharpened as reality snapped back into place.
Before him stood a woman, clad in dark, form-fitting garments. Her face was hidden behind black cloth, only her eyes visible—sharp, unwavering.
She knelt on one knee.
"The Clan Leader requests your presence," she said calmly. "The elders await."
Silence stretched between them.
Li Mu lowered the blade.
"…Fifteen years," he said quietly.
A faint, humorless smile touched his lips.
"And the tiger remembers he has a son."
He turned away.
"Conscience…" he murmured.
"…is truly a burden."