My hands moved almost on their own, drawn toward the Book of Death, as if it had been waiting for me all along.
I reached out and took it, the weight of it settling into my palms with an unsettling familiarity.
Slowly, almost hesitantly, I opened it.
The first page revealed only a single line:
"Only the living can understand death. And since you already know how to live… you already know death."
Nothing else followed, just silence, heavy and absolute.
It turned the pages impatiently, looking desperate to know more but taken a back to know that there is nothing more to the book, it is just empty with that one foolish sentence.
Knowing life is like knowing death? what the hell was that suppose to mean.
I threw the book to the ground and looked up to the roof while saying to myself
" These books are useless, such a waste of space " .
I looked down to book of life still laying on the table and out of nothing I opened the book.
The first page reads :
"It is yours to write" and nothing else, Just some empty papers. Like what's the difference between those two books? I gave up.
I just kept staring down on both the books that Qian just told me to read laying down on the ground with some empty words.
So, I just layed down with them and just closed my eyes, going deep into my thoughts but nothing specific exactly, just everything.
Before I knew it, sleep had taken me.
I found myself back in that room from my childhood.
He was there, Master, quiet as ever. I had fallen asleep with a book in my hands, tear tracks dried against my skin.
He said nothing, only gently resting his hand on my head, a silent comfort.
One by one, he removed every book from the room.
When he was done, there was nothing left… no words, no stories, just me, and my sword, alone in the silence.
I woke to the feeling of something holding me, tight enough to cage me, gentle enough to confuse me. For a moment, my mind refused to catch up with my body. Then awareness returned.
Qian.
I was lying in his lap.
He sat there as if nothing was unusual, one hand lazily turning the pages of a book, the other wrapped around me like I belonged there. After a quiet moment, his fingers paused.
"You're awake?" he murmured, not even looking down at me. "Were the books that interesting… or did you simply surrender to them?"
The page turned.
"Put me down," I said.
Only then did he glance at me, slowly, deeply, as if measuring something beneath my skin.
"The floor is cold," he replied. "How did you even fall asleep there?" A faint smile touched his lips. "Besides… isn't this more comfortable?"
A soft chuckle followed, low and unsettling.
What is wrong with him?
I tried to pull away, but his arm tightened, subtly, deliberately. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to remind me I wasn't going anywhere.
And yet… his eyes never left the book.
"Let me go!" I snapped.
This time, he didn't argue.
He simply lifted me.
Effortless. As if I weighed nothing. As if I was nothing.
The door opened, and the world outside swallowed us whole.
Silence spread like a disease.
Heads turned. Conversations died. Eyes followed.
All of them were watching.
He carried me across the open grounds without a word, his grip tightening with every step I struggled against him. The air itself felt heavier, thick with something unspoken,...something dangerous.
And then I saw where he was taking me.
The battlefield.
Men stood in formation, their gazes sharp, too sharp. Not curious. Not confused..
Their eyes locked onto me like I was prey dragged into a den of predators. Some didn't even bother hiding it, their intent, raw and violent, flickering plainly across their faces.
Qian finally stopped.
For a brief second, his hold tightened one last time, almost possessive.
Then he let go.I stood there alone. Surrounded, not that I fear but it seems like they do but to whom?
And every single one of them looked at me like they were waiting… for permission to ki*l me off.