The first rays of dawn cut through the carved lattice windows, painting gold patterns across ancient stone floors. Li Tian sat on the edge of the grand bed, his eyes half-open, his breath slow and steady. Beneath the calm, his mind raced like a storm.
Last night, he'd awoken in a dead man's body — the heir of a disgraced clan, bound to a System that promised him power at a price. And now, before the sun had even risen fully, the System whispered again.
[Ding! First Villain Task Generated.]
Li Tian didn't flinch. He had been waiting for this.
[Mission: Kill Zhao Feng, Young Genius of the Zhao Clan, publicly during your duel. Make his death humiliating enough to shatter the Zhao Clan's pride. Reward: +1 Cultivation Stage, Villain Points +1000. Failure: Spiritual Core destroyed instantly.]
A blade of cold ran through his veins. Kill? Not defeat — kill.
So this was no test of strength. It was a test of resolve. A line that, once crossed, would mark him forever.
His old self would have hesitated, sought a way out, believed in mercy. But that Li Tian had died in a pool of his own blood, betrayed by those he loved most.
He rose and walked to the basin of clear water, splashing his face. The reflection in the polished bronze stared back — a young noble's sharp features, hair tied high, dark eyes glinting like cold obsidian.
A knock at the door.
"Young Master Li Tian?" A servant's voice trembled. "Elder Wu requests your presence in the Grand Hall. The Zhao delegation is waiting…"
Li Tian dried his face slowly, each motion deliberate. He could feel it — the eyes of the past watching him, judging him. The ancestors whose portraits lined these halls had spilled rivers of blood for far less.
They made me heir to this dying name, he thought bitterly. So I'll give them the villain they wanted.
The courtyard hummed with life as he stepped out. Young disciples swung swords, training in rows. Elders in flowing robes watched them like hawks. As Li Tian passed, conversations died mid-sentence. Some disciples turned away; others stared openly, eager to see if the rumors were true — that the disgraced heir would beg for mercy today.
A hush followed him all the way to the towering red doors of the Grand Hall. The massive bronze serpent carved into the gate gleamed in the morning light, its eyes cold, its jaws forever biting its own tail — a reminder that power consumed itself if not wielded ruthlessly.
The doors swung open. Inside, the clan elders sat on high seats like ancient statues. Younger clan disciples stood in rows behind them, whispering. And at the foot of the steps, basking in their attention, stood Zhao Feng.
Zhao Feng's embroidered green robe shone under the lanterns. His long hair was tied with a golden clasp — a proud peacock in human skin. He turned, flashing a grin as if he'd already won.
"Li Tian!" Zhao Feng's voice dripped with mockery. "I almost thought you'd run away like last time. On your knees yet?"
Soft laughter trickled through the rows of disciples. Some hid their smirks behind sleeves; others waited eagerly for blood.
Li Tian stopped at the foot of the steps. He didn't look at the elders, didn't acknowledge the stares boring into his back. His eyes were fixed on Zhao Feng alone.
Inside his mind, the System's voice purred.
[Reminder: Mission target — Zhao Feng. Objective — Death. Optional — maximum humiliation for maximum reward.]
Li Tian's lips twitched — not quite a smile, but a shadow of one. He tilted his head slightly, studying Zhao Feng like a butcher examines a pig before the cut.
"You talk too much, Zhao Feng," he said softly. His voice carried in the hall's hush, unsettlingly calm.
Zhao Feng's grin stiffened. "What did you say, cripple?"
Li Tian stepped forward, his shadow long on the polished floor. "I said…" He paused, savouring the silence stretching taut. "…your mouth will be the first thing to go."
Gasps broke out behind him. One elder slammed a cane against the floor. "Li Tian! Enough insolence. This duel is for honour, not slaughter—"
Li Tian's eyes flicked to the elder. Cold. Unblinking. And for a heartbeat, the old man flinched like prey.
Zhao Feng snorted and spat at Li Tian's feet. "You think you can scare me? You couldn't beat me last year when you still had your father's protection. Now you're alone. You're nothing."
Li Tian's mind replayed his final moments in that warehouse — the knife, the betrayal, the cold spreading in his chest.
He would not be anything ever again.
He stepped up onto the duelling platform at the centre of the hall. The floor was engraved with ancient runes, still stained dark from past duels fought to the death.
Zhao Feng swaggered up beside him, raising his hands theatrically to the crowd. "Watch closely, everyone! The mighty heir of the Li Clan, begging for mercy once more!"
Li Tian's heartbeat slowed. The System hummed behind his eyes.
[Target: Zhao Feng. Status: Alive. Objective: Kill. Countdown: Duel begins in 3… 2… 1.]
The Grand Elder raised his hand, voice echoing through the Grand Hall. "As the heavens bear witness, let this duel restore what pride may yet be salvaged. Begin!"
Zhao Feng lunged first, fast, sharp, a blade of green spiritual light flashing at Li Tian's throat.
Li Tian didn't dodge.
Instead, he stepped into the attack — a twist of his body, a flash of cold fingers — and Zhao Feng's sword arm jerked sideways. The blade missed his neck by an inch.
Gasps filled the hall.
Zhao Feng stumbled, eyes wide. "You—!"
Li Tian's hand closed around Zhao Feng's wrist like an iron vice.
His smile this time was real — terrifyingly calm.
"Did you think this was a game?"
He twisted. Bones cracked. Zhao Feng screamed as his arm bent backwards with a wet snap.
Li Tian leaned in close enough for only Zhao Feng to hear.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, so softly that the crowd leaned in to catch the words. "This is just business."
And then, with a single motion, he slammed Zhao Feng's broken arm down, forced him to his knees, and with the other hand, struck his throat like lightning.
A sickening crunch echoed in the silent hall.
Zhao Feng gurgled — then collapsed at Li Tian's feet, eyes wide, mouth frozen in a silent plea.
Dead. Humiliated. The Zhao Clan's bright star — extinguished in a heartbeat.
Li Tian straightened slowly, brushing invisible dust from his sleeve. His eyes swept across the stunned elders, the silent disciples, the horrified Zhao retainers.
A thin smile curved his lips — cold, unrepentant.
"Next!!!...."