Rain splattered across the watermill roof with vengeance, making Zhao Li feel as though the heavens themselves despised the structure. She huddled in a corner, besieged by memories she tried so hard to bury, but the ferocity of the weather…wouldn’t let her.

She was never been fond of rain. Why would she?

The roof of the tiny hut she’d been given within the Jiang Clan leaked incessantly. The truly sad part though, was the cold water that leaked through the roof made her hut cold, forcing her into a shiver whenever it rained.

On one particularly frigid night, if Old Man Fu hadn’t noticed her, she would’ve frozen to death. Her fingers were so numb she couldn’t move them. Luckily, he sneaked her out of the hut and warmed her by his fireplace.

Ever since that day, Old Man Fu had been checking in on her regularly, unlike her indifferent stepmother. She’d even witnessed Old Man Fu endure a whipping for daring to give her a loaf of bread.

When she asked him why he risked so much for her, he simply smiled and patted her cheek. You remind me of my granddaughter, He told her, his eyes filled with a mix of sorrow and warmth.

Zhao Li never understood what he meant by that, but it made her feel good. It made her feel loved. Now, inside the watermill, she was once again reminded of the bleakness the rain brought.

The wind slammed against the watermill, forcing its pillars to creak and groan as if it were on the verge of collapse. For a brief second, all was still—then a harrowing wail pierced through the cracks in the wood, heightening Zhao Li’s unease.

The mill’s wooden wheel protested loudly as the swollen river pounded relentlessly against it. Zhao Li’s gaze drifted to the doorway, where the rain had formed a shimmering curtain of silvery threads.

Beyond this watery veil, the world outside had vanished, swallowed whole by the relentless downpour. Zhao Li pulled her knees close to her chest, wrapping her arms tightly around them in a futile attempt to ward off the pervasive chill.

The watermill had become a place of refuge for her, especially after she discovered flour. After her father found her pasting the flour on her body, her urge to look like them faded—but just barely.

What must I do to be accepted? she wondered, but no answer ever came.

It didn’t help that she felt as though she was being watched, by the boy who lived within the watermill. She’d seen him the first time she came here with Grandpa Jun, but the way he stared at her, made Zhao Li uneasy and wary.

She’d seen him in the forest, standing by the tree-line. He looked at with such a cold, hateful gaze that chills down her spine. It was suffocating. She tried gathering courage to introduce herself. When she did, he ignored her as if she didn’t exist, giving her a stern warning as well.

“Never. Come. Here. Alone.”

Those haunting words echoed within her mind whenever she saw him. Thankfully, she hadn’t seen him since the warning. However, it made her feel like a trespasser in his watermill, an unwanted guest who had overstayed her welcome.

The rain didn’t let up. Zhao Li's thoughts drifted back to the boy's chilling warning: Never. Come. Here. Alone.

A sudden soft creak resounded from the doorway cutting through the relentless drum of the rain. Her heart lurched in her chest as she instinctively turned toward the sound. There, standing within the shimmering veil of water, was him.

The boy.

Water dripped from his soaked hair, trailing down his sharp, angular face. His clothes clung to his body, the dark fabric saturated and heavy, the weight of the storm seemingly bearing down on him. His eyes, cold and filled with unbridled loathing, bore into her with a fury that stole the breath from her lungs.

Zhao Li froze, her pulse racing beneath her skin as he stood there. He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. The hatred in his eyes were colder than the draft of wind that wisp through the cracks of the watermill walls.

The boy stomped toward Zhao Li, his feet booming like a horse hoof. As his head appeared in front of her face, he lunged at her then clamped his hand around her shoulder like an iron shackle. A jolt of shock ran through her, from the sudden contact. The wet heat of his palm felt alien against her cold, trembling skin.

“Get up!” He snarled.

Zhao Li tried to wrench herself free, but he tightened his grip, yanking her up with a brutal force that left her stumbling on the slippery wooden floor.

“No!” She cried out, begging him to stop “Let me go!”

The boy’s face remained impassive, his eyes piercing through her. He didn’t let go. He dragged her toward the door. Zhao Li’s feet slipped in the mud beneath her as she tried to resist, her nails scraping against the wooden walls of the watermill as she grasped for anything, anything to hold onto.

But there was nothing.

The air was thick with the scent of wet earth and mildew, each breath she took heavy and damp in her chest. Her breath became ragged gasps, and she could taste the metallic tang of fear on her tongue.

As he kicked the door open, the sound of the rain became deafening, as if the storm that brewed was angry— angrier than it had ever been.

The world around her blurred into a cacophony of rushing water and the thunderous crack of the mill’s wheel, which spun violently against the raging river. “No! Please!” Zhao Li’s croaked, rain slashing against her face as she stumbled outside.

The ground beneath her bare feet was slick, the cold mud squelching between her toes as she fought against his iron grip.

The silence of his voice rang true, terrifying Zhao Li. Which made her feel worse than any words of anger or threat.

Things she was accustom to, angered silenced, she was not.

As he continually dragged her to the edge of the swollen river. The water churned violently, dark and frenzied.

Zhao Li’s heart pounded in her ears, each beat a thunderous roar. Then, without warning, he turned to her, his face inches from hers. His breath, warm and damp, fanned across her chilled skin. His hateful eyes burned with an intensity that made her blood run cold.

In that moment, Zhao Li felt something snap inside her. She shoved him—weakly, futilely—but her hands slipped against his wet chest.

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His lips curled into a sneer. And then, with a brutal shove, he thrust her toward the river.

Zhao Li let out a choked scream as her body collided with the water. The freezing cold enveloped her instantly, stealing the breath from her lungs. She sank beneath the surface, the roar of the storm replaced by an eerie silence as the dark waters swallowed her whole.

The cold was unbearable. It cut through her skin, stabbing into her bones like icy knives. Her lungs screamed for air as she flailed, her hands reaching, grasping for anything to hold onto. But the water was relentless, pulling her deeper into its murky depths.

The world above blurred into a distant, unreachable memory. The rain, the watermill, the boy—all of it faded as the river claimed her. DADDY…MUMMY…ANYONE SAVE ME PLEASE!

Zihan

“That’s for my father!” Zihan spat, watching as Zhao Li gasped for air, the lake pulling her deeper into its cold depths.

Memories flooded his mind. He could still see Zhao Xing killing his father as he hid behind a tree. It had been six years, but to Zihan, it felt like yesterday.

His father had left his own village to help the Purple Mist Valley, fully aware that the Red Bear Band might attack, just as they did to the Hollow Mountain Village.

He went there to help. That was his crime. Yes, he taken the baby Zhao Li, but only to help! Yet he was killed for it. Killed, all because he held that cursed girl.

The hatred that’d been festering within Zihan for years finally boiled to the surface. When he saw Zhao Li walking with Elder Jun, that was when his rage for the little girl reignited.

After his father’s death, his mother fell ill, leaving him to care for his younger brother. Revenge wasn’t something he had always sought, but that night haunted him. He could never forget how his father had held Zhao Li and Zhao Xing had struck him down without hesitation.

“My father was a physician!” Zihan murmured, his voice trembling. “He never hurt a soul. Yet your father killed him in cold blood... This is what you deserve!”

He then heard whispers that Zhao Li had moved from Purple Mist Village to Hollow Stone Village, he knew their paths would eventually cross. He hadn’t expected her to come to the watermill, his home. He had watched her from a distance, seeing how the villagers treated her with disdain, how they ignored her. The few times he saw her cry, pleasure rippled through him.

She deserved it.

He could almost taste the satisfaction on his lips.

Now, his revenge was complete.

For his father. Hodong.

It had worked perfectly. The rain was an ideal cover for the little girl to drown. The villagers were all huddled in their homes, seeking shelter from the downpour. No one would suspect him, especially with his brother to vouch for his whereabouts.

A small pang of guilt stirred in the back of his mind, a faint whisper urging him to save her. He silenced it quickly. “This isn’t just for me,” He muttered under his breath, “But for my ancestors! Axsumite Demoness!”

Zihan then bolted through the forest, his heart pounding like a frantic drum, echoing in the rain. His veins thrummed with adrenaline as his hands trembled uncontrollably, mimicking the turbulent wind that whipped through the trees and tugged at his hair.

The downpour muffling his footsteps, until he reached the hollowed-out trunk of a fallen tree—his secret refuge. The makeshift sanctuary sheltered him from the relentless storm. Collapsing inside, Zihan gasped for breath, trying to steady his racing heart.

He knew he had crossed a line.

I pushed Zhao Xing’s daughter into the lake...He thought, scared, But I don’t care.

Zihan reached for the stash of belongings he had hidden in the hollow—a set of emergency supplies, packed in case the village forgot him. As he gathered his things, he glanced at the second pack.

He hadn’t packed just for himself.

“We’re leaving, Tong,” he whispered, steeling himself for what was to come.

Ban Susu

As Ban Susu’s heart pounded in her chest, the rain trying it’s best to slow her down. Each droplet reminding her of the precious seconds ticking away. Her Qinggong propelling her through the air, allowing her the fluidity needed to leap from tree to tree, gracefully but with intent.

The world around her blurred into a watercolour of greens and greys. The only constant was the wind ruffling leaves crunching in her ear. Too long, she thought. We have been a part for too long. Never again.

“You may not have come from my womb, but I promised your mother I’d take care of you. If the heavens and earth don’t allow it…then DAMN THEM BOTH!”

The water mill came into view, a hazy silhouette against the backdrop of the storm. Susu swirled the Qi within her Core Dantian, then flooded her Qi into meridians within her legs, launching herself into the air.

As she soared through the air, her heartbeat quickened, making her surroundings feel as though time had slowed. Susu landed and the ground seemed to vibrate as she skidded across three meters, then she kicked off the ground…launching herself towards the water mill.

The door to the Water Mill snapped open, with a push as Susu’s eyes traced the bottom floor. “Zhao Li!” She called out, strained echoing through each letter. The only response she got was the drumming of the rain on the roof and the roar of the water. Where are you? She thought, feeling her heart sink.

Susu swirled the Qi within her Mind Dantian and flooded Qi into the meridians that led to her eyes. Hoping and praying to see a hint of Zhao Li’s Qi. But then it hit here Zhao Li was too young to open her Soul Dantian. Where are you?

Susu didn’t know why she was so anxious, but her mind just wouldn’t let her calm down. All the things she’d heard from Elder Jun made her blood boil. How could Zhao Xing allow this Jiang Li to treat her this way? It just didn’t make sense.

She knew what being depressed as a child could do. As much as it shamed her to admit it…she considered taking her life when she was young, but whenever her mother smiled at her and reassured her everything would be OK…it helped, but it didn’t stop her from being depressed.

“Elder Jun said that they aren’t any other places of shelter” She turned left, looking through a glass window watching the rain beat down on the glass, to the wooden creaks of the watermill filling her ears.

A faint wisp of Qi danced within the water, catching her off guard. Then she remembered her master's words, “Awakening the Soul Dantian can be triggered by fear.” She reminisced. A cold dread gripped her heart. No…She rasped internally, She’s in the water!

Susu dove into the churning water, the icy coldness mirroring the fear that was coursed through her veins. She groped around in the murky water.

The thought of losing Zhao Li imprinted onto the back of her mind, especially after being apart for six years. It was unbearable. The pain was sharper and deeper than any wound from a sword.

As each second passed, the trace of Qi slowly dissipated, making Susu’s anxiety form into a small ball within her throat. She reached where the Qi was, but soon realised it dissipated quickly.

She submerged herself into the water and began wildly grabbing for a hand, foot, something…anything! Her waist brushed against something, making her circle back. Instead of letting her waist find something she used her hand instead.

After three tries and submerging a meter deeper into the lake. Susu’s brushed against something again, she clutched onto it, feeling a small limp hand and pulled it up out of the water.

Susu pulled Zhao Li free from the lake’s icy grip and skipped across the water carrying her onto the bank.

She ripped open her robes and began to massage the left side of her chest, channelling Qi into her body, hoping it would warm her.

Susu blow air into her lungs and continued massaging her chest her hands moving with a desperate urgency. “Come on,” Susu said softly, restraining the tears from flowing down her eyes. “I need you,” she rasped, “You need to live!”

After what felt like an eternity, Zhao Li finally coughed, sputtering water all over her lips and neck. Susu turned her over and began rubbing the back of her profusely, trying to get the rest of the water out of her lungs.

As relief washed over Susu like a warm wave, she felt alleviating for a half-second, before it turned to anger. Where are you Zhao Xing? Are you in your crystal embellished Sect? You should’ve been watching her. How could he let this happen?

She ripped off her Hanfu exposing her undershirt, making her look unlady-like. Then she ripped off Zhao Li clothes, watching as she began to shiver from the cold as she kept her eyes close, resting.

Susu smothered her hanfu in her Qi, and watched as the steam began to flow from it as she warmed it up, despite how hard the rain poured down on them both.

She wrapped Zhao Li into her Hanfu and scooped her up, continually channelling Qi into it, keeping Zhao Li warm. She turned to her left and looked up the mountain.

The sight of the mountain loomed in front of her. It stood tall against the storm, giving an aura of superiority. Its peak was shrouded in a veil of mist and rain. Ancient trees clung to the steep slopes, their roots gnarled and twisted as if gripping the mountain for dear life. One thing rumbled within Susu’s mind as she looked up.

Finding the Purple Mist Sect, because Zhao Xing didn’t do what he was supposed to do…as a father!