Read An Immortal Love :: Rebellion

Pieces of wood and debris flew in all directions as a Great Wolf, its fur matted with dust and splinters, charges through the gate. People scream and scramble, stumbling over one another in their panic, desperately crawling away from the hulking creature. The wolf bounds forward with murderous intent, its sharp yellow eyes fixed on the dragon.

“Dragon!” the wolf snarls, skidding to a stop before the white-robed figure. The crowd, finally seeing the dragon clearly, gasps in realization. They gape at him—his silver hair billowing in the air, his cold eyes completely unfazed by the chaos around him.

“How dare you murder my clan!” the Great Wolf growls, “Do you think he won’t fight you because you’re a dragon?”

The dragon’s gaze remains impassive. “I give no thought to what you will do,” he responds curtly, his voice cutting through the commotion with chilling clarity.

The wolf’s lip curls, baring its fangs as saliva dripped from its maw. Behind him, more figures emerge from the shattered gate. A Great Boar and a Crane enters the scene, the boar stomping recklessly through the debris, heedless of the humans in its path.

“AAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!” an unfortunate man screams as the boar’s massive hoof crush him underneath, the crack of his bones breaking through the air like a whip.

Behind the boar stride a man dressed in fine, simple robes, his face noble and handsome, with slick black hair tied back with a silver coronet. His eyes flicker with disapproval at the boar's recklessness, and with a nod to his men, they quickly dart through the crowd, pulling people out of the city turned battlefield.

“Today!” the Great Wolf howls, his voice shaking the air, “So long as I am Chono of the Blue Mountain Wolf Clan, I swear enmity against the dragons! On this day, you will pay for my clan’s lives!”

Yijun felt a familiar, suffocating pressure building around them, one that warned of impending catastrophe. His heart races, and before he can shout for the people to take cover, the entire scene explodes into chaos. The air burst with screams, fragments of the city scattering in every direction.

Yijun is thrown back into the teahouse, his body crashing against the floor with a force that knocks the breath from him. Pain shoots through his limbs, but he grits his teeth and immediately rolls onto his stomach, crawling frantically under tables and chairs as debris rains down. He can hear the teahouse collapsing behind him, the floor giving way as beams and pillars shatter like twigs.

He barely had time to pull his limbs in before the second floor caved in, burying him under the weight of wood, plaster, and shattered tiles. Darkness envelopes him, thick with dust that clung to his skin and choked his lungs. He lay motionless for a moment, his mind numb with shock as the violent sounds of battle raged just beyond the rubble.

A deafening clap of thunder tears through the air, followed by the agonizing howl of the wolf. More thunder crackles, and he hears the unmistakable shriek of the Great Boar, a scream that send tremors through the wall he is pressed against. The earth beneath him shakes violently as the death throes of the beasts echoes through the wreckage.

Silence falls.

In the oppressive quiet, Yijun reaches out tentatively, his hand trembling as it searches for a way out. He feels his way forward, the weight of the debris pressing down on him like a suffocating shroud. Each movement is an excruciating effort, his muscles burning from strain and his body covered in cuts and bruises. His breath comes in ragged gasps as he inched forward, pushing through the rubble with desperate determination.

Finally, after what felt like hours of crawling and clawing his way through the wreckage, his hand breaks through into open air. Sunlight filters in through the gaps, casting slivers of light that illuminates his struggle. Gathering the last of his strength, he pulls himself free, dragging his bruised and battered body out of the debris.

The weak light of the sun pours into Yijun’s eyes. He squints until it wanes, then the tragic scenery unfolds before him. What was once a bustling village is now flattened and stripped bare of its buildings. Only fragments of walls and pillars remain standing. The streets, once alive with movement, are buried under the rubble of shattered homes and the bodies of those too unfortunate to escape. Cries echo through the desolate landscape, some sharp and piercing like bird calls, others deep and guttural, emerging from the depths of despair.

At the center of it all stands the dragon, his white robes soaked with rain and stained with blood, standing over the carcasses of the Great Boar and the Wolf.

Cold liquid drips down Yijun’s cheek. More wetness falls onto his hair, shoulders, and face—the heavens themselves seem to be weeping at the devastation. Yet, Yijun knows better. Heaven has no heart.

He stumbles toward the dragon, his steps heavy, struggling for purchase on the uneven rubble. The dragon retracts his glowing whip into his sleeve, turning his crystal-hard eyes toward Yijun. His face is emotionless, his bloodstained robes hanging loosely around him, indifferent to the destruction surrounding him.

“You’re the god of this world, aren’t you?” Yijun asks, his voice trembling, his eyes unblinking even as the rain wets his lashes. “Say something. Tell me they’d be alright.”

The dragon’s gaze flicks toward the ruin, the shattered homes, and the bodies buried beneath them. “They will be reborn again,” he says, his voice flat and cold.

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” Yijun shouts at him so loudly his hair whips against the pattering rain, as if he can throw all the weight in his chest that hangs heavy inside his body and constricts his throat while his hands grip tightly at his sides. “There were people here! Families! Children who hadn’t even grown up yet! They didn’t get a chance to know the wonders of this world!”

“Nevertheless, my sentiment remains the same,” the dragon replies, his tone unchanging, as distant as the sky.

Yijun’s face twists with rage and grief. “Do you dragons even care at all for this world?” His voice cracks. “What are we to you? Just worthless pawns you can destroy whenever you wish?”

The dragon’s expression remains unmoved. “Emotion is the illusion of existence. Suffering results from clinging to these illusions. You would do well not to attach yourself too much to these fleeting moments.”

Yijun lets out a bitter, broken laugh. “I’ve had enough of your apathy!” His voice rises, anger swelling in his chest. “Maybe that’s why you’re dealing with a rebellion! Because people don’t want to be ruled by unfeeling gods who treat us like puppets!” He jabs a finger toward the dragon’s face, his rage pouring out like a flood.

The dragon stares back with his cold, distant gaze, offering no acknowledgment of Yijun’s words, as though he were beneath notice.

“Maybe that’s why your marriage failed!” Yijun screams, his voice cutting through the rain. “Maybe that’s why you’re left here, dying alone and unloved as you deserve! Your husband couldn’t stand your wicked, cold heart!”

The dragon’s face tightens, his expression darkening as his jaw clenches. Yijun feels a twisted satisfaction at finally breaking through the dragon’s impassive facade. “So you do care,” he sneers.

“Be silent about things you know nothing of,” the dragon snaps.

“It’s true, isn’t it? You’re a cold, unfeeling creature who destroyed your family, and now you’ll die alone and unloved because of all the evil things—”

The dragon’s fist moves toward Yijun’s face. He sees it coming, and he welcomes it. Better this than watching more people die in front of him. At least now, he’ll join his family, instead of lingering in this accursed world alone.

The dragon’s palm connects with Yijun’s forehead, but instead of feeling his body shatter, Yijun feels something else entirely—his soul flying free.