It was him, in that very house.

  His face was blank, sword drawn, blood dripping from the tip.

  Behind him, the entire family lay sprawled on the floor, their faces twisted in horror, body disintegrating into ashes.

  It wasn’t messy or childlike, it was detailed, accurate, almost as if copied from memory.

  Jin Yu’s hand tightened around the paper. “Where… did you see this?”

  The boy only giggled. “You're going to do it soon, right?”

  Then he turned and ran off, laughter trailing behind like a fading bell.

  Jin Yu stood up slowly. The unease that had been building now surged like a tide.

  He stepped into the hallway, then moved toward the living room.

  That’s when he saw it.

  The cozy warmth from before was gone.

  The family stood there , the father, the mother, and the two children, waiting.

  Their eyes were no longer kind or curious.

  They were black and Bottomless. Their pupils had vanished entirely.

  And worse, strange, jagged inscriptions crawled across their skin. It was neither tattooed nor carved, but glued onto them like dead paper talismans, yet pulsing as though alive.

  The girl tilted her head. The boy grinned.

  “Do you want to fly now?” he asked, voice no longer childish. It echoed.

  Jin Yu’s body tensed. His hand fell to his waist, Qi sharpening within.

  Then, The family lunged.

  But Jin Yu moved faster.

  It was just like the drawing.

  The first strike slashed the boy’s neck, the body dropped, already disintegrating into black ash.

  The mother screamed, her hands twisting into claws.

  The father’s arms extended unnaturally, like they were made of shadows.

  Even the little girl pounced, screeching, her mouth wide open with rows of jagged teeth.

  Jin Yu’s blade danced, his movements were precise and honed.

  The warmth was gone. The illusion shattered.

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  Within seconds, the house was silent again.

  Black dust settled slowly across the blood-stained rug.

  Jin Yu stood alone in the wreckage. Just like the drawing.

  And then he looked down at the crumpled paper still in his hand.

  The ink was gone.

  He folded his fist around the crumpled drawing, pressing it tighter until the paper bent and tore under his grip.

  His face remained blank, but inside, something was unraveling.

  A few minutes ago, that family was smiling, full of warmth, laughter, and mundane questions.

  Now, they were nothing but silent piles of ash scattered across the floor.

  Jin Yu stood there for a long moment. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

  He didn’t even know what to feel.

  Guilt? No. Pity? Not quite.

  Only a hollow weight pressing on his chest, one he couldn’t name.

  Slowly, he let the torn drawing fall from his fingers.

  It landed quietly near the ashes.

  Without looking back, he took out the map again and unfolded it. His eyes scanned it with sharp focus, hoping for something, a lie exposed, a reason, a mistake.

  But the map was unchanged.

  The same small clay-tiled house.

  Same road.

  Same red mark.

  Frowning, he swept the parchment with his spiritual sense.

  That's when something flickered.

  The red dot blinked once, and vanished from its spot.

  A second later, a new house appeared further down the village... and with it, the red dot reemerged.

  Jin Yu stared at the new mark.

  His fingers curled tightly around the edge of the map.

  His brows drew into a dark line.

  “…Is this a joke?” he muttered under his breath.

  No answer came.

  Only the whisper of wind through the broken shutters and the fading scent of burnt paper.

  ----

  The sky had shifted again, no longer golden with morning light, but pale and listless, as if the sun itself watched from behind a veil.

  Jin Yu stood at the edge of the second house. Unlike the last, there was no warmth here, no laughter or smiles to lull him into confusion.

  As soon as his boot touched the stone threshold, the door burst open, and black-eyed figures hurled toward him like coiled beasts unleashed.

  Their bodies bore the same strange inscriptions, like seals half-peeled from the skin, radiating the stench of something dark and wrong.

  There were no pleasantries, just pure, violent intent.

  They attacked with unnatural speed, coordinated like puppets pulled by invisible threads. Jin Yu didn’t hesitate. His blade flashed. Qi surged. Each strike clean, each kill deliberate.

  When it was done, silence claimed the house again. Ashes fluttered like snow in the air, coating the floors, the walls, and his shoulders.

  He stood amidst the settling dust, breathing quietly, blade still humming with residual heat.

  He tightened his grip on the map, unable to tear his eyes from the ashes.

  This isn't what I came here to do.

  These weren’t supposed to be enemies. They were supposed to be victims.

  Then why were they the ones dying?

  The map responded to his thoughts almost mockingly. The red mark blinked out from the second house and reappeared again, this time on the opposite side of the village.

  With a heavy heart, he stepped out of the room.

  The third house stood behind a cluster of grain storage huts, cloaked in the shadows of tall trees. As he approached, the scent of blood hit him first, not fresh, but metallic and old, soaked into the wooden beams like a memory. The door didn’t open this time. He pushed it aside, expecting another ambush.

  They were waiting.

  Three figures. Two adults, one teen. Their bodies pulsed with the same markings. Their eyes, pitch black voids, fixed on him with a hunger that wasn’t human. There was no attempt to hide it, no performance of hospitality. This house didn’t pretend.

  Jin Yu’s Qi surged as he entered, and the door slammed shut behind him.

  They lunged.

  The clash was brutal, faster than the last. These were stronger, more aware. The teen moved like a serpent, nearly catching his flank. Jin Yu parried, his foot pivoting, and his blade sang through the air.

  He struck once, twice, and then again. Blood evaporated into mist, flesh crumbled into dust. He didn’t speak, didn’t hesitate. These things were no longer people.

  When the last one fell, a single breath escaped his lips, neither relief nor exhaustion, just necessity. He stepped outside and let the door fall shut behind him.

  Then, once again, the map changed.

  The red dot danced, vanishing from the third house and flickering onto a new one, deeper into the village’s heart.

  ---

  The fourth house stood alone at the far edge of the village, beyond the old well and past the rows of flowerbeds that had long withered into tangled roots. It looked no different than the others—clay walls, a sloped roof, faded paint.

  But as Jin Yu approached, a strange pressure tightened in the air, like the entire village was holding its breath. The map in his hand trembled faintly. The red dot blinked, solid and final. This was the place.

  He stopped before the door and exhaled slowly, gaze fixed on the warped wood. His boots were dusted with ash from the last three houses. His sleeves carried the scent of burning flesh. But it wasn’t the battles that disturbed him, it was the silence that came after. The moment when their bodies collapsed, and he was left alone again, holding a sword in one hand and a question in the other.

  Was this all there was?

  These monsters.

  He pushed open the door.