The Cadillac's Vengeful Ride: A Xian Bloodbath's Dark Retribution

The night was thick with the silence of the city, save for the occasional wail of an ambulance or the distant laughter of revelers. In the shadows of an alley, a figure emerged from the darkness, a silhouette against the pale glow of the streetlight. The Cadillac, a sleek beast of a car, idled at the end of the alley, its engine purring like a beast before a hunt.

This was no ordinary hunt, though. It was a chase that would span the very fabric of reality, intertwining the fates of the living and the dead. The driver, a man known only as Xian, his eyes a storm of pain and resolve, gripped the wheel with a vice-like grip. His face was a mask of determination, his skin pale, the shadows beneath his eyes the only testament to the turmoil within him.

Xian had been betrayed. By his own kin, by the ones he had sworn to protect. It was a betrayal that had torn him from his life, from the world he once knew. Now, he was a ghost in his own home, a specter driven by a single purpose: to exact dark retribution upon the ones who had cast him aside.

The Cadillac's headlights cut through the night, their beam slicing through the darkness like a scythe. The chase had begun, and Xian was on a collision course with his past. His target was a mansion at the edge of the city, the residence of his family, the ones who had turned their backs on him.

The car screeched to a halt in front of the grand gates, the Cadillac's engine roaring like a lion's roar. Xian stepped out, the door creaking open with a sound of finality. He took a deep breath, the scent of gasoline and metal filling his lungs. He reached into his coat and pulled out a silver blade, its surface etched with symbols of ancient power.

The mansion loomed before him, its windows dark, its doors sealed tight. Xian's steps were deliberate as he approached the front door. He raised his hand, the blade glinting in the moonlight. With a swift, decisive motion, he shattered the glass and pushed the door open.

The interior was a maze of opulence and decay, the smell of rich fabrics mingling with the stench of neglect. Xian moved silently through the halls, his footsteps echoing like the clatter of distant thunder. The mansion was a fortress, but it was a fortress under siege.

He entered the grand dining room, the table set for a feast that would never be enjoyed. The silverware clinked together as if in silent protest. Xian's eyes scanned the room, searching for his target. He found them in the library, the sound of laughter cutting through the silence.

There, seated around a grand oak table, were his family—his brother, his sister, his parents. They were unaware of the danger that loomed over them. Xian moved with the grace of a cat, silent and deadly. The silver blade danced in his hand, a silent promise of death.

The first to fall was his brother, a man whose betrayal had been the catalyst for Xian's descent into madness. The blade sank into his chest with a hollow thud, and the man fell back, eyes wide with shock and disbelief. The sound of his collapse echoed through the room, a stark contrast to the laughter that had filled the space moments before.

One by one, the family fell. The sister, a woman who had once shared his bed, was taken down with a swift, decisive strike. Her eyes, once filled with life, now glazed over as she collapsed into her brother's arms. The parents, the ones who had turned their backs on him, were taken in a moment of quiet, reverent fury.

The Cadillac's engine roared to life again, the sound of death and destruction. Xian climbed into the car, the silver blade clutched tightly. He turned the wheel, the car lurching forward with a sense of purpose. He drove away from the mansion, away from the life he once knew.

The mansion, once a beacon of wealth and power, now lay silent and abandoned. The Cadillac's headlights pierced the darkness, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. Xian's journey was far from over, but for now, he had avenged his pain.

The city was alive with the sounds of night, the pulse of life throbbing beneath the surface. But in the heart of the city, there was a silence that was deafening, a silence that spoke of the darkness that had been unleashed. The Cadillac's vengeful ride had left a Xian bloodbath in its wake, and the dark retribution was only just beginning.