## Chapter One
Little Ling Han's laughter echoed through the modest courtyard, an innocent reverberation of the quiet life he lived under the care of his loving parents and his older sister, Ling Xiao, who was like the sun and moon to him. The little one, with hair as white as pure snow and eyes that had never seen the light since his birth, did not realize that his clear sky was about to collapse, and that his laughter would turn into an eternal wail.
It all began on that fateful day when the sun wore a mask of dust and blood. Ling Han, seven years old, was sitting under the ancient peach tree in the courtyard of their small country house, listening to his sister Ling Xiao tell him tales of heroes and adventurers in the world of Murim, a world he had never seen but imagined in vivid colors through her sweet voice. Her small hands would trace the features of his face, drawing a smile on his lips whenever she described a heroic scene or a funny situation. His father, Ling Jian, was a simple woodcutter with a kind heart, and his mother, Mei Hua, was a woman as delicate as a spring flower, her tenderness filling the house with warmth and security.
"...And so, my little Han," Xiao finished her story, her silvery laughter tickling his ears, "the legendary hero managed to defeat the nine-headed dragon and save the kingdom from the clutches of darkness!"
Ling Han clapped his small hands enthusiastically and said in a pure, childish voice, "Sister Xiao, when I grow up, I will become a hero like him! I will protect you and protect Father and Mother from all the bad guys!"
Xiao smiled and hugged him tenderly. "You are already our hero, little Han," she whispered in his ear.
At that moment, the tranquility of the peaceful village was shattered by a sudden scream, a scream that did not belong to their peaceful world. It was followed by the sound of a violent crash, then more screams, more terrifying and desperate. Xiao froze in place, her eyes widening in fear. She gripped Ling Han's hand tightly and whispered in a trembling voice, "Han, stay here and don't move! I'll see what's happening."
Xiao got up and ran towards the courtyard gate. Ling Han tried to follow her, but his small legs couldn't keep up. He heard his sister's voice screaming his parents' names, then a muffled cry of pain, followed by an oppressive silence, a silence heavier than all the mountains in the world combined.
"Sister? Sister Xiao!" Ling Han called out, his voice trembling. No reply came. The blind little one crawled towards the source of the sound, stumbling over the courtyard stones, his small heart pounding wildly. He reached what he thought was the entrance to the house, where he heard strange sounds, brutal cackles, and a muffled groan.
"Mother? Father?" Ling Han whispered, fear gripping him.
Suddenly, he was pulled forcefully by his arm and thrown to the ground. His head hit the dirt, and he felt a sharp pain. He heard a rough, coarse voice cackle above him: "Look what we found! A little blind rat! Is this Ling Jian's offspring? What a disappointment!"
More laughter, crueler. Ling Han tried to get up, but a strong hand pinned him down. "Where... where is my sister? What did you do to her?" the little one cried, tears beginning to well in his closed eyes.
"Your sister?" the rough voice said mockingly. "Oh, that little kitten? We had a bit of fun with her. She screamed quite beautifully, just like your mother is now!"
Ling Han felt a coldness spread through his body, a coldness he had never felt before. He heard his mother's groans grow louder, mixed with the harsh laughter of the men. Then, he heard his sister's voice, weak and broken, calling out to him: "Han... run... run, Han... no..."
Her voice was cut off abruptly, replaced by a muffled thud, then a deadly silence.
"Xiao! No!" Ling Han screamed, feeling something tear apart inside him. He tried to break free, to crawl towards the source of his sister's voice, but the hands holding him were like rock.
They forced him to "watch," or rather, to listen and imagine. They described to him in the most vile and brutal words how they had torn his sister's pure body, how they had enjoyed torturing her before ending her life. Every word was a dagger plunged into his little heart, every laugh a hammer shattering his innocent soul.
Then came his parents' turn. He heard his father's screams as he was tortured, begging them to leave his wife alone, to kill him instead. And he heard his mother's groans mixed with sobs, calling their names, her husband's name and the name of her blind child who would never see the light, and would never see the hell that had just begun for him.
They tied them up. They described to him how the rough rope tightened around their necks, how their bodies rose into the air, how their last breaths choked out as they stared into the void, or perhaps, at the face of their little son who could do nothing but listen in terror.
Ling Han no longer screamed. He no longer cried audibly. His tears turned into a silent river carving its path into his soul. His small body trembled uncontrollably, and his mind refused to comprehend this nightmare. Was this real? Could humans be this cruel? Was the world he had imagined through his sister's stories just an illusion?
When it was all over, when the horrifying silence descended upon the courtyard that had once been filled with laughter, the monsters left him there, lying on the ground, alone in his hell. They didn't kill him. Perhaps they thought that keeping him alive, blind and broken, was a punishment more severe than death. Or perhaps, he wasn't even worth the effort of killing in their eyes.
Ling Han crawled, not knowing where. He fumbled his way among the cold corpses of his loved ones. He touched his sister's frozen face, her lips that would never tell him another story. He touched his mother's hands that would never embrace him tenderly again. He touched his father's body that would no longer protect him from the horrors of the world.
And there, among the remains of his family, Ling Han began to weep. He wept as no child had ever wept before. He wept until his tears ran dry, until he felt his eyes burn, as if they were melting in their sockets. His muffled cries turned into a long wail, the wail of a wounded animal left to die alone.
With the sunrise of the next day, which seemed to mock his tragedy, Ling Han tried to open his eyes. But he saw nothing. There was only an impenetrable darkness, a darkness deeper and more profound than the darkness he was born into. He tried again, rubbing his eyes with his small hands, stained with dirt and perhaps... the blood of his loved ones. Useless.
The tears of grief and despair had taken from him what little hope remained of seeing the world. He became completely blind, not just in the physical sense, but blind to any meaning in life, any hope of salvation.
That was the moment something new was born in the depths of Ling Han. Something dark, cold, and as harsh as the frost he would later be named after. Something that whispered to him that revenge was the only way, and that annihilating everyone who had caused this pain, indeed, annihilating the entire human race that allowed such monsters to exist, was his sole purpose. And then... then he could join his family, end this hell himself.
But hell, as Ling Han would discover, had only just begun.