Chapter Fifteen: A Painful Departure from the Han Family

Heaven truly played a great joke on Han Bingyan; he didn’t even need to participate in the remaining two matches. The final opponents, chosen by drawing lots, turned out to be Han Bingyao and Han Bingwu. According to the established rules, since Han Bingyan had already fought both of them in earlier rounds, their previous results would be carried forward—meaning he was automatically marked as defeated in both matches.

So, with two forfeits and five losses, Han Bingyan concluded the Han family’s selection for the new generation, an undisputed king of defeat. In stark contrast stood his younger sister Han Bingran, who claimed the crown with a flawless record of seven victories. Han Bingruo’s results were equally dismal, with only one win—thanks to luck, drawing her own name for a bye—and six defeats, leaving her second to last among the candidates.

What awaited them now were cruel choices.

Han Liang strode onto the central dais, gathered his inner energy, and spoke in a loud, commanding voice: “The selection for our new generation has now concluded. Several outstanding talents have emerged: Han Bingran, at eight years old, has already reached the first level of the Earth Realm and shows signs of advancing further; Han Bingyao, at twelve, is also at the first level of the Earth Realm. These two are models for our Han family’s new generation, and I hope you will all learn from them, train diligently, and contribute to the prosperity of our clan!”

His tone shifted abruptly, and his face grew stern—a transformation so sudden it left everyone amazed. “But our family has also produced its share of shame—Han Bingyan and Han Bingruo!” He paused, fixing his gaze on the two of them. “Congenital blockage of the meridians is rare among martial artists, yet our Han family has produced two such cases at once. How lamentable! Martial cultivation is no longer their fate. Our family has always thrived through martial prowess, but for the sake of their personal growth and to temper them through adversity, I have come to this decision—”

At once, all ears strained to catch his next words. Though most already guessed the outcome, they feigned ignorance, eager to hear confirmation from the patriarch himself.

“From this day forth, Han Bingyan and Han Bingruo shall leave the Han family’s estate and fend for themselves. Their lives and deaths are now left to fate and have nothing further to do with the Han family!”

What a desolate fate. Han Bingyan and Han Bingruo exchanged glances as that decree echoed in their minds—“Their lives and deaths are now left to fate and have nothing further to do with the Han family!” What a cold, heartless pronouncement, delivered with such grand self-assurance by the head of the clan. And what an enraptured audience of Han family youths!

So be it. Must life mean death without the Han family? Han Bingyan thought resentfully.

Who knows how many hearts have withered among falling blossoms in the courtyard, or how many tears have been washed away by the tides? If one asks what is the shortest road in the world, it is the road of life itself.

From this day forward, Han Bingyan’s destiny would rest in his own hands.

He returned briefly to his room and packed a few changes of clothes. Gazing around the space he had lived in for ten years, he felt a pang of nostalgia—never imagining he would one day be forced to leave the Han family estate, and at only ten years old.

“Brother—” His younger sister appeared, eyes red and brimming with tears, hugging a long sword in her arms. He gently stroked her cheek. “Take good care of yourself from now on.” His voice trembled. “I’m only moving out, not disappearing forever, am I?”

She nodded, then seemed to remember something. She held out the sword. “This is the sword I promised to give you, brother.” Han Bingyan took it. The weapon was heavy, true to its iron make. After a moment, he sighed. “I have no use for this sword any longer. What can a martial cripple do with it but add sorrow to sorrow?”

Yes, Han Bingyan had made his decision. If he could not pursue martial arts, must he achieve greatness only on that path? Are there not other avenues? Better to let go of martial cultivation and seek a new way!

“But... I promised to give it to you. Why not keep it as a memento?” With no other choice, Han Bingyan nodded in agreement.

“Young miss, the lady is calling for you.” At that moment, a maid arrived. She addressed Han Bingran as “young miss,” and the “lady” was their mother, Han Xianyu.

“One more thing—” The maid turned to Han Bingyan. “The lady asked me to give you these. She and the patriarch are in discussion and cannot see you off in person. She sends her apologies.” With that, she led Han Bingran away.

Han Bingyan weighed the bundle in his hand. It contained money—probably tens of thousands. His mother had truly thought of everything. He felt no resentment toward Han Xianyu for being unable to see him off; he knew she had no choice.

At the gate, Han Bingruo was already waiting. “Let’s go. Still unwilling to leave?”

“How could I not feel reluctant?” Han Bingyan replied, his heart heavy. Han Bingruo said nothing more, simply walking alongside him.

“Are you two little ones leaving now?” A sudden, unexpected voice startled both children. Looking up, they saw their second uncle. “Uncle, is there something you need?” Han Bingyan asked.

“Come, come... Why so downcast? Chin up, young man!” Second Uncle squinted his small eyes, stepping forward as though to encourage them.

“No need to worry, Uncle. Bingruo and I will keep our spirits up,” Han Bingyan replied coolly. In truth, he had little fondness for this relative, well aware of his penchant for petty thievery. Who knew what cunning scheme he was plotting now?

Sure enough, hearing Han Bingyan’s lackluster response, Second Uncle forced a smile. “You know, I’ve looked after you well these ten years. Shouldn’t you show some appreciation?” He rubbed his hands together shamelessly.

“Looked after me?” Han Bingyan nearly spat. When had you ever cared for me? The only one you favored was your precious son, Han Bingwu, and I’ve suffered more than enough at his hands!

“I saw your mother give you a little bundle earlier, didn’t I? Why not let your uncle keep it safe for you? I’ll return it when you’re older.” Greedy eyes glinted, and Han Bingyan swore he could see a flash of green within. “Sorry, Uncle, but I wouldn’t dream of troubling you with this. I’d feel terrible imposing,” Han Bingyan replied coldly.

“No trouble at all!” Second Uncle insisted. Couldn’t he take a hint, or was he pretending not to understand? Han Bingyan fumed inwardly.

“I don’t think it’s necessary. It’s just a small bundle—Bingyan can take care of it himself,” Han Bingruo finally spoke up after a long silence. Then, the two siblings walked around their uncle, leaving him standing there in astonishment—perhaps he hadn’t expected it to be so difficult to take a little bundle from Han Bingyan.

“Wait!” A loud voice called out—not from Second Uncle behind them, but from ahead. “Han Bingwu!” Han Bingyan’s pupils contracted sharply, and hatred welled up in his eyes as he fixed them on Han Bingwu, who now blocked their path.

Han Bingwu ignored the murderous glare, stepped forward, and drove a fist into Han Bingyan’s thin chest. Agonizing pain shot through Han Bingyan’s body. Unable to withstand it, he fell to the ground, vision blurring as he felt rough hands reach into his robe and snatch away the little bundle.

“Give the bundle back to Bingyan!” Han Bingruo, wild with fury, lunged at Second Uncle, desperate to reclaim what was stolen. Yet the difference in their abilities was vast; Han Bingruo hadn’t even touched him before being hurled aside by an invisible force, collapsing to the ground and coughing blood.

“Bingruo, let it go,” Han Bingyan said, struggling to his feet and stopping Han Bingruo from risking himself further. “It’s just some money. Let them have it.” What did it matter if he resented it? The weak are trampled like ants; all they can do is remember and bide their time...

Greed and pettiness—father and son walked away, laughing together.

Faintly, words like “useless,” “waste,” and “good-for-nothing” drifted to Han Bingyan’s ears. “Someday, I’ll make you regret this...”

He drove his fist into the earth, pain lancing through his heart, blood blossoming like scattered plum petals...