Chapter 4: Emotional breakdown

Still wrapped in the trembling aftershock of fear, Yan Jiayi’s delicate body could no longer hold on.

Her numb legs gave out completely, and she slid down to the cold, dusty floor, helpless.

Tears welled up, blurring her vision.

Her throat ached with the sobs she stubbornly swallowed back.

Mom… Dad… where are you?

I miss you... I’m scared...

She curled in on herself, small and fragile, like a child lost in a nightmare.

Her broken voice mumbled between soft hiccups, “I... I didn’t... hiccup…”

She clutched the broken chair leg tightly, as if it could somehow protect her.

Across the room, the red-robed man silently watched the scene unfold.

The proud, sharp figure he had seen earlier was gone.

What knelt before him now was just a girl — young, vulnerable, and heartbreakingly alone.

He lowered himself slowly, crouching down to her level.

Face to face.

The sword in his hand stayed lowered.

His dark eyes narrowed slightly.

He had seen many royal princesses before — arrogant, proud, cold as jade.

But this one...

The empire’s most favored princess.

The golden flower of the fallen nation.

And yet here she was — crying silently, bruised and trembling, without even the dignity to curse him.

He could still hear the faint mumble from her lips.

"I didn’t… hiccup…"

It was almost laughable.

Almost pitiful.

His fingers brushed the hilt of his sword unconsciously, a strange, unfamiliar irritation flickering through his chest.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

His voice, deep and powerful, carried a different tone this time — not mocking, not cruel.

More complicated.

Almost... questioning.

But Yan Jiayi, lost in her sorrow and fear, didn’t even seem to hear him.

She huddled closer into herself, muffling her cries into her arms.

In that moment, she wasn’t a princess.

She wasn’t a survivor.

She was just a girl who had lost everything.

The man stared at her for a long time, silent.

Finally, with a sharp breath, he straightened.

The air grew heavier around them.

His voice dropped lower, cold but slow, as if choosing his words carefully.

"Get up," he said.

Yan Jiayi didn’t respond.

She just hugged her knees tighter, trying to disappear into herself.

The man’s brows furrowed.

Without warning, he reached out — grabbed the back of her thin collar, and hauled her up roughly.

"Did you not hear me?" he said coldly, voice like iron scraping stone.

"Stand. Up."

Yan Jiayi struggled weakly, but her strength was already spent.

She dangled helplessly in his grip, her feet barely touching the ground.

Tears clung to her lashes, and for a second, she looked at him — really looked.

There was no mercy in those eyes.

No pity.

Only a cold force, like a storm that would crush anything in its path.

She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.

Slowly, painfully, she forced her legs to move, to straighten, even as they shook under her.

Her fists clenched tight at her sides.

The man let go, watching silently as she swayed on her feet like a broken doll.

But she stood.

Barely.

His mouth twisted slightly — not quite a smile, but something close.

"Good," he said, his voice low.

He turned and began walking toward the broken doorway.

His red robe, soaked in old blood, dragged against the cracked stone floor with a soft, eerie sound.

He didn’t look back.

"Follow," he ordered.

Yan Jiayi staggered a step forward, then another.

Her body screamed in protest, but she gritted her teeth and moved.

I have to survive.

I can't die here.

The ruined hallways stretched endlessly ahead, darkness swallowing the edges.

The only thing she could see was his back — broad, proud, like a blade that would never bend.

The monster’s howls still echoed faintly behind them.

But the man didn’t rush.

He walked slowly, steadily, like he owned the night.

Yan Jiayi limped after him, feeling her hands shake, her vision blur.

Still, she followed.

Because right now, no matter how terrifying he was—

He was the only thing keeping her alive.

"If you want to live… get up."

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