Chapter Ten: Fate Uncertain

"Han!"
"Young Master Han..."
The shouts pierced the stillness of the night in the Forest of the Abyss. The forest's outer region was vast, so Lu Tianhong thought it best for the seven of them to split up in their search, using fireworks as a signal if anything happened.

Lu Tianhong was growing anxious. Nearly an hour had passed, and still no sign of Han.
"Could he have ventured into the inner forest? Or perhaps he never came at all?" Lu Tianhong shook his head at the thought. Although Lu Han was only fifteen, he wasn't so reckless as to run into the inner forest—a place even Lu Tianhong himself dared not tread lightly. And if Han hadn't come, then what of that letter? Han had handed it personally to Lu Bang.

A muffled sound interrupted Lu Tianhong's worries, as a flare with a trail of red sparks shot into the sky and exploded.

"There's news at last? But that's from the south—near the Cloud Cliff by the Abyss!" He was both relieved and concerned. At last, there was a lead, but its location made him frown.

A series of swift, cutting noises followed.
The Lu family guards were not only strong but also highly disciplined.
Soon, Lu Tianhong and five of the guards arrived at Cloud Cliff.

"Master, there are signs of a fight here," reported Uncle Fu, holding a torch.
It turned out that in their divided search for Han’s whereabouts, Uncle Fu had come upon the very spot where Lu Han had battled the masked stranger—Cloud Cliff.

"Did any of you find clues nearby?" Uncle Fu asked the five guards.

"No," they replied in unison, their respectful gazes betraying a reverence for Uncle Fu. Though regarded by most as just an elderly servant, his years of loyal service at Lu Tianhong’s side had earned him a unique standing. That the family guards—symbols of both status and strength—should treat him with such deference was telling.

The seven followed the traces of conflict to the very edge of the abyss.

"Master, there’s blood here," one of the guards said, shining his torch on the ground.

Uncle Fu reached the bloodstain first, his face darkening as he knelt down to touch the blood.
"Judging by how it's coagulated, it’s been here four or five hours—just after nightfall. Could it be...?" Uncle Fu’s face paled. At Han's pace, that would have been shortly after he entered the forest.

"No, it can't be..." Uncle Fu shook his head, unwilling to believe it.
He looked at Lu Tianhong, who stood motionless, eyes fixed ahead, silent tears sliding down his cheeks as he murmured, "Han... Han..."

"Master, though few come to the Forest of the Abyss these days, it’s not unheard of. This blood might not be Han’s," Uncle Fu tried to comfort him.

"Uncle Fu, I want to believe that too, but look ahead..." Lu Tianhong’s hand trembled as he pointed toward the abyss, then walked forward.
There, on the ground, lay a blood-stained scrap of white cloth, no larger than a palm.

"Uncle Fu, this... this is Han's clothing." Lu Tianhong crouched to pick it up, his strength seeming to drain with each word. Though only a fragment, he knew his son’s garments as well as his own.

"Master, a single scrap isn’t proof. It might just be a coincidence," Uncle Fu ventured, clinging to hope.

"This was a gift from Han’s grandfather in Tianlan City. The fabric is unique to that place." Lu Tianhong wanted desperately for this to be coincidence—but the timing of the blood, the origin of the cloth, all pointed to Han.

"If it truly was Han here, then the final struggle took place by the edge of the abyss..." Uncle Fu could hardly bear the thought. He had watched Han grow up, cherished him like a grandson, but no one knew how deep the abyss was—falling meant certain death.

"Master, as the saying goes, living or dead, we must see him. The blood may not be Han’s—he’s blessed, surely nothing will happen..." Uncle Fu, seeing Lu Tianhong clutch the cloth with vacant eyes, spoke with gentle urgency.

"Right, right! Living or dead, we must see him," Lu Tianhong said, a faint spark of hope in his eyes. "Lu family guards, gather sturdy vines— as many as you can find. I’m going down to look for Han!"

Uncle Fu had only meant to comfort him, not expecting Lu Tianhong to insist on descending into the abyss.
"Master, the abyss is bottomless, and it’s night. It’s too dangerous!" Uncle Fu cried.

"Uncle Fu, don’t try to stop me. My mind is made up." Lu Tianhong knew it was nearly hopeless, but without seeing his son’s body, he could not believe Han was gone.

"Lower me down slowly, holding the vine." With a torch in hand, Lu Tianhong tied the vine around his waist and secured the other end to a large stone.

"Master, let me go instead," Uncle Fu offered.

"Uncle Fu, let me do it. You wait here for my word," Lu Tianhong replied, cutting him off.

"Very well, Master. Be careful. If anything happens, call out, and we’ll pull you up immediately," Uncle Fu relented.

Dawn broke.
"Pull the master up," Uncle Fu ordered the five guards.

This was the fifth time Lu Tianhong had descended the cliff—each attempt ending in failure.

"Master, the vines are nearly a thousand meters long now, and you’ve gone down five times. You’re exhausted. Let’s return and think of another way," Uncle Fu said, seeing Lu Tianhong’s disheveled state as he climbed back up. Rarely had Lu Tianhong been so worn out.

"Uncle Fu, I don’t know how I’ll face Wan’er when I return," Lu Tianhong said, despair replacing the last threads of hope with each fruitless descent.

At the gates of the Lu residence, Meng Wan’er had not slept the previous night, waiting for Lu Tianhong to return with Han. When no news came by dawn, she waited at the door, and if not for Xing’er holding her back, she would have gone into the forest herself.

"You’re back? Where’s Han? Why didn’t you bring him back?" Meng Wan’er hurried to meet the seven returning figures. Who else could they be but Lu Tianhong and his men?

"Wan’er, let’s talk inside," Lu Tianhong said, glancing anxiously at the street.

Meng Wan’er’s heart sank. She knew Lu Tianhong—his expression could only mean trouble.

"Han... he’s missing," Lu Tianhong said, his voice heavy in the hall.

"What? Missing? Tianhong, didn’t you promise to bring him back to me?" Meng Wan’er’s tears fell at once. They had only one son, and Han had always been so sensible.

"We found signs of a fight by the abyss, blood, and a torn piece of his clothing. From what we could see, it appears Han fell from the cliff—his fate uncertain."

"Fell from the cliff... fate uncertain..." Meng Wan’er repeated, before fainting dead away.

"Wan’er! Wan’er... Uncle Fu, Xing’er, quickly!" Lu Tianhong caught her in his arms.

Inside, Uncle Fu checked her pulse.

"Uncle Fu, is she alright?" Lu Tianhong asked anxiously.

"Madam will be fine. The shock and lack of rest caused her to faint. She’ll recover after some rest," Uncle Fu replied.

"Uncle Fu, send out all the family guards. Investigate my eldest’s movements yesterday and today. And send men to check around the Forest of the Abyss for any way down."

"Eldest... I refuse to believe this has nothing to do with you. As soon as I left, Han wanted to go to the forest—too coincidental. Pray there’s no evidence, or I’ll turn this house upside down. With my son gone, what reason have I to care for this family?" Lu Tianhong spoke, hands behind his back, staring out the window.