The tale of the Primordial War was known throughout the human realm. It was the story of Lucifer, the radiant star who rose in pride. He sought to overthrow the heavens and corrupt creation itself. Defeated, chained in the Eternal Sky Prison, he became the enemy of all that was holy.
Meng Xuan slowly opened his eyes after three months of silence.
The sterile scent of antiseptic filled his nose. The chamber around him was a medium-sized hospital room, clean but cold, with only the beeping of machines to break the stillness.
"How did I end up here?" he murmured. His thoughts were heavy, scattered fragments of that day refusing to fall into place.
Then came the voice.
"You are awake, my king." It echoed in his mind with startling clarity, brimming with delight. "I have waited three months to serve you."
Meng Xuan froze. He knew that voice. The same presence that had tried to seize his body in the demonic zone. Yet now it spoke not with hunger, but reverence.
"Why am I not possessed?" he asked aloud, though he knew it was a foolish question.
"I would not dare," the voice said, almost meek. "I exist only to guide you."
Meng Xuan narrowed his eyes. Was this reality, or some elaborate deception?
"Cultivation?" he muttered when the voice spoke again.
"In time, you will understand."
The door opened. A young nurse stepped in, dressed in a short white coat. She froze when she saw him awake, then quickly retreated. Moments later she returned with an elderly doctor.
The doctor checked Meng Xuan thoroughly, found nothing abnormal, and left the nurse to her work. She cleaned his half-healed wounds, her gaze flicking to his face again and again as though she were searching for something.
"Sir Xuan, are you alright?" she asked softly.
"Yeah. Just… really hungry," he said with a weak grin.
Her cheeks flushed faintly. "You've been in a coma for nearly three months. Of course you're hungry."
She adjusted the IV drip and chuckled lightly. "I should inform your girlfriend. She must be worried sick."
Meng Xuan didn't bother correcting her. Explaining would be pointless.
"Take care, Sir Xuan. Food will arrive soon," she said, tucking the blanket before leaving.
Half an hour later, the door creaked open again. A tall young woman entered, her emerald eyes glistening with emotion. Steam rose from the bag she carried.
Her eyes found him. In the next heartbeat, she rushed forward, throwing her arms around him and pressing her face into his chest.
"That's a good girlfriend you've got there," the mischievous voice in his head chimed. "Average chest, beautiful face, slender thighs—"
"Shut up!" Meng Xuan snapped inwardly.
"…Yes, boss," the voice muttered.
The woman lifted her head. Her cheeks were red, her lips parted as if she wanted to kiss him. She stopped herself, smiled instead, and whispered, "I would have kissed you… but you haven't brushed in three months."
Meng Xuan blinked, then laughed. "That's your reason?"
She laughed with him, her shoulders trembling with relief.
"You'll break my back if you keep hugging me like this," he teased.
The voice chuckled. "Humans are such liars. You enjoyed every second."
His face burned crimson. "Shameless," he muttered to himself.
She finally let go, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Her voice lowered. "But promise me one thing. Please… don't ever leave my side again."
Meng Xuan stared into her eyes. "I promise," he said softly. "But first, let me eat."
Her lips trembled into a smile. She sat beside him, opened the food container, and began to feed him carefully.
He ate hungrily—until her hands suddenly stopped. Her eyes fell to the floor.
"I didn't want to tell you this way… but your mother is dead."
Tears spilled down her face as the words broke free.
The spoon froze in Meng Xuan's hand. Slowly, he set it down. His chest rose and fell shallowly before he exhaled and closed his eyes.
Inside, the voice whispered faintly. "She was troublesome to fight. If she hadn't restrained herself to protect your soul, she would still live. She gave everything… for you."
There was regret in its tone, almost sorrow. "Now I am so weak I can barely sense my own existence."
But Meng Xuan heard none of it. His mind was hollow, his voice flat as he spoke. "My mother once told me… when something leaves you, it means it was never meant to stay."
The woman beside him wept harder. Even the voice inside him was stunned by his calm.
"…I'm starting to like you, Master," it whispered.
Meng Xuan arched an eyebrow. "You didn't before?"
"Not like this."
A quiet laugh escaped his lips. The woman—Xiao Long—laughed with him, her tears softening into a smile.
And just like that, the weight of grief lifted—if only a little.
....
Meanwhile, in Jade City, within the towering halls of the Demon Hunter Bureau, a middle-aged man stood before his superior. The elder behind the obsidian desk lifted his eyes from a stack of documents, his gaze sharp.
"Sir, the boy rescued from the Goblin Demonic Zone has woken."
The superior nodded once. "Good. Summon him when he is discharged."
"There is… one concern. His records show he is of the cursed Meng clan. He may have undergone a forced awakening, or worse… his soul may have been tainted."
The superior's eyes narrowed. "And the Seven Wing Faction?"
"They are already investigating. They want him."
The man slammed a fist onto the desk. "Outrageous. Do they think we cannot manage our own city? Say nothing. We will judge him ourselves."
---
Two days later, Meng Xuan was discharged. As sunlight touched his skin, two men in black suits approached.
"Sir Xuan," one bowed, "the Demon Hunter Bureau requests your presence."
"Fine," Meng Xuan replied calmly.
He entered their black limousine. The city passed outside the tinted glass, but his mind drifted elsewhere.
The Bureau governed the demonic zones. They held the power to dispatch hunters, explorers, and enforcers. Their word was law in Jade City.
At the Bureau's lower testing chambers, Meng Xuan underwent inspection. The result was unchanged: no holy force.
They questioned him relentlessly about his time in the zone, about the voices he had heard. But Meng Xuan, prepared, answered every inquiry with measured precision.
That evening, the Bureau escorted him home. Officially, it was for his recovery. In truth, they wanted to observe him—his home, his habits, his weaknesses.
They wanted to know how to kill him if it became necessary.
---
Knock. Knock.
"Who is it?"
The door opened. A middle-aged man entered, clad in a yellow robe patterned with green bamboo leaves. His graying hair betrayed his years, yet his body radiated vigor.
"Father…" Meng Xuan muttered. His eyes flickered with mixed emotions.
His mother had always praised this man as the best she had ever known. Yet Meng Xuan had only seen loneliness and hardship in her eyes. Why had he left her? Why now?
"Son," Meng Han said quietly, "can we talk?"
The voice within Meng Xuan stirred uneasily. Why do these people always appear beside him? That woman… now this man. I can't see through either of them.
After their brief talk, Meng Han rose to leave. At the door, he looked back.
"The Meng Manor is open to you anytime," he said, then left.
Meng Xuan's hand tightened around the object left behind—a green jade seal, granting him access to the academy hostel.
No more rent. No more debts. His father had cleared everything. Gratitude and suspicion twisted inside him.
Why now, after all these years?
And there was something else. His stepsister. She was transferring academies, likely to watch him.
I hope she won't be a hindrance. From what I've heard, stepsisters never like their stepbrothers.
His father had also hinted at something more—the chance to return to the Meng Clan and undergo the Awakening Trial, the sacred ritual to awaken one's holy force.
But there was another path.
Meng Xuan smirked.
"Master," the voice whispered, "have you decided?"