"The greatest betrayal is not the one in which you lose everything, but the one where you lose what you never thought could be lost."
The air was heavy with the scent of blood and smoke. Huai Shan's vision blurred at the edges, the dim light of torches flickering in his eyes like distant stars. His breath came in shallow gasps, the pain in his side gnawing at his strength. The world around him felt distant, disjointed, as though it was all a dream, a nightmare he was too exhausted to escape.
He stumbled forward, his hand pressed against the wound, trying to stem the flow of blood that seeped through his fingers. The city of Longchuan, once an impenetrable fortress, now felt like a prison of stone. And Huai, despite everything he had done, despite the blood he had spilled and the sacrifices made, was cornered within its walls.
A shout broke through the haze in his mind. Footsteps. Huai barely managed to raise his sword in time to parry the incoming blow, the clang of metal on metal ringing in his ears. He had no time to think, no time to consider his options — only to fight, to survive.
"Huai Shan," a voice called from the darkness, cutting through the chaos. It was sharp, commanding, unmistakable. Han Yu. The very man who had been the thorn in Huai's side for so long, the one who had orchestrated countless battles against him, the one whose soldiers had besieged Moquan.
Huai didn't have the strength to face him now. But he had no choice.
He turned to face the commander, eyes narrowing with determination, even as his body screamed for rest. Han Yu stood at the front of a small group of soldiers, his expression unreadable, his eyes cold. The glint of his blade was like the flash of a predator's teeth.
"I told you it would come to this," Han Yu said, his voice low, full of venom. "You thought you could strike at the heart of Longchuan, but you're nothing more than a pest. A peasant playing at war."
Huai's lips curled into a thin, bloodstained smile. "It's the pests who gnaw at the roots, Han Yu. And when they gnaw long enough, they bring down the tree."
He took a slow, labored step forward, his sword raised in a trembling hand. Han Yu's eyes flickered with something — amusement, perhaps, or disdain — before he nodded to his men. They spread out, flanking Huai, forcing him into the center of their circle.
"Don't make this harder than it needs to be," Han Yu warned. "You're already defeated."
Huai didn't answer. He didn't need to. His body was already exhausted, his vision clouding with each passing second. But his resolve remained firm. He would not give in, not now, not after everything. If this was the end, he would make it a price worth paying.
One of Han Yu's men lunged at him. Huai reacted on instinct, his sword cutting down in a blur of motion. The man fell, clutching his throat, but the others closed in. He couldn't hold them off forever.
His thoughts drifted — not to the fight at hand, but to the rebellion, to the people who had believed in him, who had followed him despite the odds. The soldiers who had died beside him. Jun. Yi Fen. Xu Liang. The others. He could feel their presence even now, urging him to keep fighting.
"Huai!" Han Yu's voice snapped him back to the present, but it was too late. The blow landed hard across his back, sending him crashing to the stone floor, his sword falling from his hand.
"Enough," Han Yu commanded. The soldiers stopped. "Leave him."
Huai, battered and broken, lay still on the cold ground, his body screaming in agony. His vision was dimming. He had nothing left.
But even in the darkness, he knew he wasn't alone. The rebellion — his rebellion — had already begun. His death, if it came, would only be the spark for something bigger.
He could hear Han Yu's voice in the distance, barking orders to the men. His body was lifted, dragged through the streets of Longchuan like a sack of grain, the cold stone scraping against his skin. The city around him blurred into nothingness.
They took him to the prison. He didn't resist. What was the point? The fight had been lost, and with it, his last breath of defiance.
Days Later
The sounds of the prison were muffled, distant, like the pounding of waves against the shore. Huai Shan's eyes fluttered open. His body ached with every inch of movement, his side raw and bandaged, though the pain never truly went away.
He was in a cell. He could smell the dampness of the stone, feel the chill in the air. The harsh, unrelenting cold of Longchuan's dungeons seeped into his bones.
But he was alive.
For now.
The door to his cell creaked open, and a figure stepped inside, silhouetted against the light from the hallway. Huai didn't need to look to know who it was. He'd seen that shadow far too many times before.
"I thought you'd be dead by now," Han Yu's voice was cold, but there was something else in it, a subtle shift in tone, something Huai couldn't quite place.
"Not yet," Huai answered, his voice raspy but defiant. "But soon enough, if you're lucky."
Han Yu chuckled darkly, stepping closer, his boots clicking against the stone floor. "You've always had a way with words. Too bad they won't save you now."
Huai's eyes locked onto Han Yu's, his gaze steady. "Then why keep me alive? To gloat?"
The commander was silent for a long moment. Then, with a thin smile, he leaned in close. "Because you're more valuable alive. A symbol. A martyr. The people of Moquan… they'll follow your death. And when they do, we'll crush them all."
Huai's chest tightened, but he held his gaze. The fire was still there, even if it burned weaker than before. "Then they'll never stop. Not until you're dead."
Han Yu stepped back, smirking. "Let's see how long that takes, shall we?"
The door slammed shut, leaving Huai alone in the dark.
But even as the silence pressed in around him, Huai's mind raced. This was not the end. His death would not be the end. It couldn't be.
The rebellion had only just begun.