The room was drowned in darkness, the power knocked out by the howling storm outside. Lightning streaked through the sky, jagged electric-blue flashes bleeding through the tall windows and painting the walls with shadows as black as ink.
In the eerie, flickering light, two wooden coffins stood solemnly—monolithic silhouettes casting long, distorted shadows that stretched across the cold floor.
Around them, people Tianzun had never seen before gathered, dressed in black. Some covered their mouths to stifle sobs, tears streaming silently down their cheeks. Others clasped their hands together in prayer, while some leaned on the shoulders of their fellow mourners, broken by grief.
Little Tianzun didn't understand what was happening. The atmosphere was strange and unfamiliar. His wide eyes scanned the crowd, trying to make sense of the mournful hum and the sorrow etched on every face. Something was terribly wrong.
He turned to his caretaker—a beautiful woman in her twenties, with long black hair cascading over her shoulders and golden-brown eyes filled with sorrow. She wore a black gown that contrasted with her radiant beauty, her presence both comforting and heartbreaking. She had cared for Tianzun since he was a baby, and now he looked up to her, desperate for answers.
He squeezed her hand tightly twice—small fingers clutching hers, silently begging for her attention. But she did not respond.
Pouting like a stubborn child, he blew out his cheek and gave her a side glance. When she still didn't react, he stopped squeezing her hand and tried something else: he tugged on her gown.
Startled, she snapped out of her trance. She smiled gently and rubbed his head, a small comfort in the sea of sorrow.
Before he could ask his questions, her gaze shifted forward. He followed her line of sight and saw the altar. Her eyes were red-rimmed and glossy with tears.
Annoyed by her silence, Tianzun moved in front of her and pointed down at the floor. She understood immediately, bending down to meet his eye level.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly.
She forced a smile. "I'm fine."
Her smile was bittersweet, and it made his cheeks flush a deep shade of red.
Then, his innocent heart recalled the thought that had been gnawing at him.
"Where are my parents?"
This time, she didn't answer. Her eyes, locked on his, shimmered with silent tears that fell freely down her cheeks.
Tianzun's heart dropped. The light in her beautiful eyes had dimmed, lost its luster the moment he spoke those words.
A strange coldness seeped into the room, chilling him to his core. The weight of the situation crashed down on him, confirmed by the mournful faces all around.
His breathing grew ragged and shallow. His heart pounded wildly in his chest. He felt as if the air had thickened, making it harder and harder to breathe.
His small hand clutched desperately at his chest, tears spilling down as the cruel truth dawned upon him—her tears were the only answer he would receive.
Without a word, his body coiled like a spring, desperate and frantic. He lunged toward the altar.
His eyes fell upon the coffins—their occupants were his parents. Their faces were pale, whiter than any sleep, their eyes closed as if in eternal rest.
He stepped closer, voice cracking with desperation. "Mom... Dad..."
No answer.
Turning to his caretaker, his voice trembled with confusion and pain. "Why won't Mom and Dad answer me? Why are they doing like my toy?"
All he received was a tight embrace from her. She held him close, as if shielding him from the unbearable truth.
His child's intuition screamed that after this day, he would never see them again.
He turned to the silent crowd, his voice rising in anguish. "Why won't my parents answer me?"
No reply came.
His sobs turned into a scream, raw and heart-wrenching. "Noooooooo!"
Then, darkness crept over his vision as he fainted.
He was rushed to the hospital for rehabilitation, fragile and broken.