I am the Villain

Rooftop Lament

The stars blinked faintly overhead, scattered across the deep black sky like silent witnesses to a life long cursed. The temple below lay quiet, still, and unaware of the soul unraveling atop its roof. Luo Zelin sat cross-legged on the slanted tiles, the wind tugging gently at the hem of his robe. A half-empty wine jar swayed loosely in his hand, damp with condensation and slick from where the wine had already spilled.

The other hand rested limply in his lap, twitching occasionally with the flickers of some forgotten emotion. Then, softly, barely above a whisper, he began to sing. "He rises slowly filled with hate, And seals their agonizing fate. The fire's low, but it's not gone,

The crown is broken, but worn on."

His voice was raspy, low, a tune meant not for ears but memory. The song was old, one he'd likely written himself as Feng Wuxin. A dark lullaby wrapped in bitterness and ash. "He'll fight again, he'll rise once more, And vengeance waits in store... He whispers softly, let it fade. A prisoner of choices made."

His voice cracked slightly as he reached the final lines. "Another star extinguished... done."

The wind blew a little stronger then, as if nature itself sighed with him. Zelin leaned back on his elbows, staring up at the night sky. The stars looked so far away. Distant. Cold. Just like how he used to be. He brought the wine jar to his lips and drank deeply. Some of the wine missed his mouth and spilled across his chin and onto his robe, staining the already-ragged white and silver fabric. He didn't care. He let the drops soak in like war paint.

For days, he'd been lost, wandering through this second life without purpose, without fire. But tonight... after that demon's terrified gaze, her trembling lips whispering "forgive me", he felt it again. He felt like himself. Not Luo Zelin, the pathetic disciple who couldn't follow rules or make breakfast.

But Feng Wuxin, the feared name spoken only in whispers. The man demons still knelt before, even in another form.

Zelin wiped his mouth with his sleeve and gave a quiet chuckle. "They still remember me..." He set the wine jar down beside him, arms falling back so he could look up again. His eyes narrowed as he focused on a single star, one that gleamed just a little brighter than the rest.

"You think I'm gone," he murmured to no one. "But I'm still here. And I'll carve my place back into this world... one way or another."

The wine made his body warm. But it wasn't the drink that brought the heat to his chest. It was the memory of fear in that demon's eyes. It was the sound of his name, his real name, echoing in his mind. Feng Wuxin was alive. And this time, he wasn't going to die a villain.

He would make the world pay. Or bow. Or both.