The roads to the empire were drenched in blood.
Murong Chen had carved his way through countless cities, leaving nothing but corpses and burning ruins in his wake. The once-mighty imperial armies had crumbled beneath his blade, their generals falling one by one as he stormed through their fortresses. It had been a relentless march—one fueled by vengeance, an unstoppable force hellbent on a single goal: the destruction of Emperor Zhao Ren.
And now, that goal had been achieved.
The battlefield was silent.
Bodies littered the scorched earth, the acrid scent of blood and burning flesh thick in the air. Murong Chen stood at the center, his black robes billowing in the fading storm of Qi that had erupted from the final clash. Before him, Emperor Zhao Ren's lifeless body lay twisted, the once-mighty ruler now reduced to nothing more than a broken corpse.
The Abyssal Sect had won.
But at what cost?
Murong Chen swayed on his feet, his body ravaged by wounds that refused to heal. Deep gashes ran along his arms and chest, his once-imposing armor cracked and broken. Blood dripped steadily from his fingertips, yet he remained standing, held up only by sheer will.
A surge of energy roared through him as the System activated in response to his victory.
[Congratulations! You have successfully slain Emperor Zhao Ren!]
[New System Functions Unlocked:]
• Abyssal Devourer: Absorb the remnants of fallen experts to refine their Qi and techniques.
• Dominion's Gaze: Temporarily enforce absolute authority over weaker-willed individuals.
• Abyssal Ascendancy: Influence the fate of cities and sects, marking them for destruction or protection.
Murong Chen's eyes glowed dark crimson as the Abyssal Devourer function activated. The residual Qi of Zhao Ren and his strongest warriors surged into his body, merging with his own cultivation. The ground beneath him trembled, as if the world itself recognized his ascent.
The Abyssal Sect cheered in unison. Victory was theirs. The imperial dogs had fallen.
Yet, amidst the triumph, a shadow lingered.
Li Mei was gone. And so was the true mastermind.
Zhao Ren had not been the true enemy.
Somewhere, lurking in the darkness, was the one who had truly orchestrated Murong Chen's downfall all those years ago. That man had vanished, slipping through Murong Chen's fingers just as his revenge had come to fruition.
The realization struck him harder than any blade. For years, his existence had revolved around vengeance. It had consumed him, driven him forward, kept him alive.
But now? Now that the empire lay in ruins, now that Zhao Ren was dead—what was left?
His chest felt hollow, a vast emptiness expanding within. Was this all there was?
He had imagined this moment a thousand times—standing over Zhao Ren's broken body, hearing the cheers of his sect, watching the empire crumble. He should have felt victorious. But he felt nothing.
He staggered forward, his breathing ragged. Had all of this been for nothing?
Li Mei had disappeared without a trace, leaving no closure, no final confrontation. The one behind Zhao Ren's rise had escaped into the void, and Murong Chen stood here—bloodied, victorious, and yet utterly lost.
His hands curled into fists. No. This could not be the end.
But what was left for him now?
Was he simply a conqueror? A warlord meant only to tear down empires? Had he merely exchanged one chain for another—once shackled by revenge, now shackled by emptiness?
For the first time in a long while, Murong Chen wavered.
Was power enough?
Was destruction all he was destined for?
His vision swam. The battlefield blurred. He had come so far, only to stand at the precipice of meaninglessness. The empire lay in ruins beneath his feet, yet the weight of it all pressed down on his shoulders.
No.
A single thought rose above the storm of uncertainty. No. This is not the end.
His ambition had not died. It had simply outgrown its cage.
Vengeance had been the fuel that drove him forward, but now that it was spent, he required something greater.
Something eternal.
He would not merely be a warlord. He would not simply rule a sect or an empire.
He would reach the peak of all existence.
He would transcend even fate itself. If the heavens stood in his way, he would burn them to the ground. If chaos threatened to consume him, he would become its master.
[Abyssal Pact Available: Trade a portion of humanity for untold power.]
Murong Chen exhaled, his lips curling into a dark smile. Humanity? That was a small price to pay.
Without hesitation, he accepted.
A dark seal formed over his chest, scorching his flesh, merging with his very being. For power, he would sacrifice even his soul.
With a sweeping motion, Murong Chen turned to his gathered forces.
"Prepare to move. We are done here."
The Abyssal Sect had no need to linger among the corpses of the weak. Their war was far from over.
For Murong Chen, this was only the beginning.
I'll now fully expand and paste Chapter 27: Abyssal Ruin here, ensuring it reaches 2000+ words with:
• More depth on Murong Chen's emotions—his emptiness, doubts, and rediscovery of ambition.
• Detailed world-building—the state of the ruined capital, reactions of sect members and survivors.
• The System's growing presence—how it tempts him toward an even greater goal.
• Hints of future threats—traces of the missing mastermind, remnants of the empire, or celestial forces taking notice.