Darkness reigned supreme in the cavernous expanse, an ancient, otherworldly energy seeping through the jagged walls of this forsaken palace. The very stone pulsed with a strange, eerie vitality, covered in runes that flickered like dying embers, their glow barely pushing back the abyssal blackness.
From the ceilings and walls, clusters of long, violet-hued stalactites hung like the fangs of a beast, their sharp edges glinting ominously. They filled the space with an oppressive weight, a suffocating presence that pressed down on everything, as though the grotto itself were a living entity, watching, waiting.
It was a place of unspeakable stillness, yet it breathed—a malignant, slumbering thing steeped in the echoes of long-forgotten secrets.
The deeper one ventured, the more profound the darkness became. Light itself seemed to cower before this abyss, swallowed whole by an overwhelming presence.
The only illumination came from the faint, ghostly glow of ancient symbols etched into the walls—intricate, almost grotesque carvings that spoke of eldritch rites long past. Someone, something, had painstakingly marked this place with purpose.
Beneath, the black stone floor was jagged and uneven, broken by patches of moss and small pools of crystalline blue water. These pools shimmered like fragments of a shattered sky, reflecting the eerie glow of the runes.
The air was thick with the sound of dripping water, each droplet sending ripples through the pools, a quiet, haunting melody that only added to the cavern's mystery.
But beyond the unsettling beauty of this place was an overwhelming, all-consuming force.
Thick, inky Demonic Qi clung to the air, writhing like living shadows. It corrupted, devoured, and shaped the surroundings, forming twisting tunnels that spiraled deeper into the abyss. This Qi was unnatural, its mere presence oppressive, as though it sought to drown all who dared to exist within its grasp.
At the very heart of this subterranean world lay a colossal chamber.
The vaulted ceiling stretched impossibly high, its surface adorned with even more elaborate carvings—depictions of titanic battles between demons and immortals, of ancient struggles long buried beneath time itself.
And at the center of it all stood a grand jade altar.
The altar was carved from a deep white stone, yet it was stained in places, as if it had absorbed centuries of bloodshed and suffering. Glowing inscriptions slithered along its surface, pulsating like veins in a living body. But what drew all attention was the massive purple crystal embedded into the ground and ceiling, its surface crawling with black tendrils of Demonic Qi.
The Qi converged here, flowing like raging rivers toward the crystal's core.
Inside the translucent depths of this enormous gem, a long, fleshy cocoon lay suspended, pulsating with a slow, rhythmic beat—like the heart of some slumbering god. Veins of deep crimson and violet ran along its surface, thrumming as it greedily devoured the dark energy surrounding it.
And within that cocoon, curled into himself as if trapped in an eternal nightmare, was a boy.
He looked no older than ten. His body floated weightlessly in the viscous darkness, arms wrapped tightly around his legs, his long white hair drifting like wisps of moonlight in the blackened fluid. Two small, dark bulges sat atop his head, the faintest hint of something inhuman beginning to take shape. A single red dot burned at the center of his forehead, a silent mark of something ancient stirring within.
Though he appeared to be asleep, his expression was anything but peaceful.
Every so often, his eyes would twitch violently. His fingers would clench ever so slightly before relaxing again.
A sign of dreams.
No.
A sign of thought.
A voice, distant yet painfully familiar, echoed softly inside the crystal.
"Hmm… day three million or whatever, I guess. I lost count a long time ago."
The boy's words were flat, devoid of feeling, as if he had long since abandoned the need for emotion.
"I know I wanted to reincarnate, but not like this, bro."
"Well, Tao, you can't always get what you want."
A wry chuckle, utterly devoid of mirth.
"I can't even feel my body…"
His voice droned on, hollow.
It was the sound of someone who had long since made peace with their suffering but had never truly accepted it.
"Let's see… I've been in this damn crystal for who knows how long in the real world. But my soul? My soul has lived a thousand lives thanks to that fucking bug."
The fluid inside the crystal shuddered violently at his outburst, responding to his raw emotion.
Tao forced himself to take a breath—useless as it was in this bodiless state.
"Calm down, Tao. Getting angry won't solve anything. Think. Think. There has to be a way out of this."
He fell into silence, floating, absorbing.
"Here's what I know."
"I have reincarnated. When I first woke up, I was a baby. A baby who could see—who could understand things far beyond what an infant should."
"And the things I saw… the things I felt… were deplorable."
A deep, shuddering pause made his mind freeze for a moment.
"I don't know who those hooded bastards were. But if I ever escape, if I ever find them again—"
The crystal trembled violently, black veins surging over Tao's young body like ink spreading through water.
"No matter the cost… no matter how long it takes… no matter who they are or who they serve…"
"I will kill them all."
The conviction in his voice was absolute.
But then, as always, there was the block.
That void in his memory.
Something was missing. Something important. Something had been taken from him. And no matter how hard he tried, no matter how many times he reached into the depths of his mind, it was as if unseen hands covered his eyes, denying him the truth.
The frustration burned.
But he had long since given up trying to force it.
Tao groaned in his mind, stuffing the useless thoughts deep into the pit of his soul.
He could still feel the pieces of metal—those wretched, foreign intrusions embedded into his newborn body. His very bones remembered the violation.
His body trembled, black veins pulsing once more before slowly receding as he willed himself to breathe.
He turned his thoughts to his captor.
The bug man.
A man who had gleefully spoken of his so-called mystical Ten Lives Reincarnation Technique—a technique that ripped Tao's soul apart, again and again, forcing him to live, suffer, and die through countless existences.
And all of it… for what?
For purification. For "power."
For a better body.
For his body.
That was the truth.
This bug had taken Tao not just for an experiment but for his own personal gain. A mentally weak, pathetic man who had stumbled across something far beyond his own understanding, too much of a coward to use it on himself.
And so, Tao had suffered in his place.
Over and over. Again and again.
Until now.
His final life. His final death.
As that realization settled in, a whisper, bitter and hollow, escaped from the depths of his soul.
"…I'm weak."
His mind went blank. The weight of it all was too much. His soul could take no more, forcing him into unconsciousness.
That for all his strength, for all his suffering. For all his rage.
Tao could do nothing.
And so, he did the only thing he could do.
He slept.
....
Sometime later, Tao's mind stirred from its forced slumber. But unlike before, when he had spoken freely, when remnants of warmth and emotion had still clung to his soul—now, there was only coldness. A bitter, bone-deep frost that settled in the core of his being, creeping outward like a slow, merciless winter.
It was the kind of cold that seeped into one's marrow, the kind that could still a beating heart with a single glance. If Tao were to open his eyes, that chill would pour out from him, freezing everything in its path.
Silence enveloped him as he sat in contemplation, staring out into the darkness that had become his world. His mind, though battered, was sharp, and now, devoid of distractions, he took his time to assess everything around him.
That was when he saw it again.
The corpse.
It lay sprawled across the jagged, blackened floor, twisted unnaturally, as if discarded by some unseen force. Shrouded in writhing tendrils of black mist, the body was half-consumed by whatever malevolent force lingered here. Red symbols flickered to life and faded away in irregular patterns as if something—or someone—had tried to lock this body away, to seal it from the world.
Every time Tao's gaze drifted toward it, his soul trembled violently. It was a sensation unlike anything he had felt before—a deep, instinctual disturbance that clawed at him from within, as though his very existence recoiled at the sight.
He didn't know why.
But something inside him screamed at him not to look.
And yet… he couldn't help it.
Keeping his distance, he stole short, calculated glances. The longer he observed, the more he began to notice small details, clues woven into the body's form. The subtle curvature of the figure, the faint remnants of grace even in death—it was a woman. And something deep within him, in the very essence of his blood and soul, whispered of familiarity.
Family.
His breath hitched. A suffocating pressure settled onto his chest, pressing down harder and harder, as if an invisible force sought to crush him beneath the weight of realization. His thoughts raced, spiraling toward something he was not yet ready to confront.
Tao forced himself to look away.
His hands clenched into fists as he let out a slow, measured breath. There was no use lingering on something he couldn't yet understand. But one thing was certain—this body, whoever she was, was bound to him in ways he could not yet fathom.
That knowledge alone made his skin crawl.
Then, something else caught his attention.
Beyond the corpse, in the endless abyss of this cursed place, he noticed it—something shifting. The black mist that blanketed the surroundings, the oppressive energy that had smothered this place for what felt like eternity…
It was fading.
Slowly. Almost imperceptibly. But fading nonetheless.
Tao's eyes narrowed, unease curling in his gut.
"That's not good."
Instinct whispered to him, warning of something lurking just beyond his understanding.
"Oh boy. How great."
....
The demonic qi that once filled the chamber had all but vanished, completely absorbed into Tao's body. Yet, at this moment, Tao wasn't focused on that.
Suspended within the crystalline prison, his body remained motionless, yet his soul stirred with silent unease.
His captor had returned.
And he wasn't alone.
Five figures surrounded the crystal, their gazes fixated on him as though he were a rare, invaluable specimen. Among them, a middle-aged man in crimson robes stood at the forefront, his black, chitinous face partially concealed in the dim glow of the grotto. His eyes, dark as the abyss, gleamed with satisfaction.
Meng Hao had waited long for this moment.
From betraying the Blood Moon Sect and stealing this child to acquiring the Ten Lives Reincarnation Technique and securing this ancient, hidden sanctuary—every step had been painstakingly orchestrated. The Immortal Demon Grotto was a place that severed heavenly secrets from the world, shielding him from the prying eyes of the cosmos. And soon, all of his efforts would bear fruit.
He couldn't take full credit, of course. The mysterious figures who had sought him out, those terrifying individuals, had provided him with both the technique and the perfect timing. They knew of the chaos soon to erupt in the Demon Realm. They knew how to stay hidden. They even knew of this grotto, a place he would have never found on his own.
Even a Great Saint Realm cultivator like himself, an elite of the Abyssal Locust Devil Clan, had to admit those people were beyond comprehension. The fact that they could locate him, weakened though he was at the time, sent a chill through his very soul.
Yet, in the end, he didn't care.
He had what he needed.
His gaze shifted to the still body lying nearby. A woman—her presence once powerful, now reduced to mere flesh and bone. Her beauty, unparalleled even in death, had long since ceased to matter.
Meng Hao clicked his tongue in mock pity."A waste," he thought.
Whatever she had been in life, whoever she had belonged to in the upper realms, none of it mattered now. She was dead. A husk, waiting to be used for whatever ritual those figures had in store.
And the child in the crystal?
Meng Hao's lips curled. A gift. A perfectly crafted vessel.
His new body.
He exhaled, steadying his nerves. Even now, standing too close to the woman's corpse sent waves of paralyzing dread through him, as though some remnant of her power still lingered in the void. He dared not approach any further. The fact that those mysterious people could handle her body, could even command what was to be done with it, only deepened his wariness of them.
He dismissed the thought.
Instead, his gaze sharpened, shifting to the four men standing beside him. Ignorant. Clueless. Expendable.
"It's time."
A flicker of movement.
Tao, though still bound, felt it—an invisible shift in the air. A presence vanishing.
His soul trembled.
A foreboding sensation washed over him, one he recognized all too well. The scent of it thickened in the grotto's air, seeping into his very bones.
Death.
Someone was about to die.
And then there was a whisper of green light.
A thin, nearly imperceptible line traced across a man's neck. His body stiffened, frozen in place as his head detached, weightless, before tumbling to the ground with a dull thud.
Blood sprayed like a fountain, staining the stone beneath their feet.
"Ahhh! Brother Cui is de—"
A second man's scream was cut short—another head sent flying.
The remaining two scrambled, their instincts finally screaming at them to flee. But before their legs could even carry them a step forward—
Slash. Slash-
Four blinding streaks of green severed their limbs, sending arms and legs crashing to the floor. They collapsed, writhing, their torsos quivering as their screams choked in their throats.
The smell of burning flesh filled the chamber.
A sickly, green vapor curled from their wounds, the poison eating away at their flesh, dissolving it slowly, agonizingly.
From the darkness, Meng Hao reappeared.
Expressionless. Cold. His black eyes gleamed with an eerie, detached amusement.
The two crippled men trembled, their paralyzed bodies unable to move, unable to resist, even as their souls frantically clawed at the boundaries of their flesh, desperate to escape.
But it was futile.
"You shouldn't have run," Meng Hao said, his tone almost gentle, as if chastising a child. He sighed, shaking his head. "Now your bodies are ruined. I suppose I'll just have to use your souls instead."
He raised his palm.
A few muttered words. A simple, practiced motion.
The two men convulsed violently, their mouths gaping in silent horror as their very essence was yanked free.
Their translucent, spectral forms twisted and writhed in his grasp—two pale, helpless souls, utterly at his mercy.
Meng Hao grinned.
With a casual wave, a small brown gourd appeared in his other hand. He uncorked it, letting the abyss inside swallow the wailing spirits whole.
The gourd sealed shut with a hollow thunk.
Silence.
Not yet satisfied, Meng Hao turned back toward the discarded torsos, lifting them effortlessly with a flick of his fingers. A swirl of qi siphoned the poison from their blood, gathering it into a shimmering droplet of pure venom, which he swallowed without hesitation.
His tongue flicked across his lips. A low sigh of pleasure.
Then, stepping toward the crystal, he exhaled.
"Now," he murmured, "it's time to prepare the organs."
Without hesitation, he began his gruesome work.
Tao watched everything.
His heart did not race. His face did not contort in horror.
Because he had already expected this.
And yet, the sheer cruelty of it all left him in quiet awe.
Inside his crystalline cage, he remained still. Watching. Observing, even lamenting his weakness.
As he awaited his fate, Tao's mind churned with a single, consuming thought.
"Can I even escape?"