The morning fog had not yet lifted when Li Dugu stood before the ancient gates of Mount Huayin, where the Heavenly Demonic Sect made its home.
Mist clung to the trees like spirits watching in silence. The path upward wound through cliffs and caves, steeped in legend and fear. Even birds did not sing here.
Clothed in plain robes and carrying only a sealed black scroll, Dugu kept his breath steady. His godfather's last words echoed in his mind, carried by memory rather than ink: "The truth lies where light dares not go. Trust only your eyes… and your courage."
He passed the final stone arch—tall, cracked with age, and inscribed with characters that seemed to shimmer beneath the fog. At its peak were three words, carved in blood-hardened strokes: 天魔宗 — Heavenly Demonic Sect.
"Another outsider dares climb the Demon's path," a voice drawled from the mist.
A figure appeared, lean, draped in dark red robes, with a half-mask of bone covering the right side of his face. A black scabbard lay across his back.
"State your purpose."
Li Dugu bowed deeply, reaching for the scroll within his robes.
"I come with a message… sealed in black, under direct authority."
The man didn't blink. His eyes studied Dugu like a wolf inspecting a wounded deer. After a tense pause, he reached for the scroll and broke the seal without hesitation.
His eyes flicked over the contents, then back to Dugu.
"…Follow me."
No further words were exchanged as they ascended through winding stone paths into a hidden sanctuary within the cliffs. The deeper they went, the stranger the air became. It was heavier, thicker, as if the very mountain rejected the presence of the imperial world.
They entered a cavern carved by hand and time, a hall of black stone lit by floating lanterns whose flames flickered blue. The walls were inscribed with martial texts, and the scent of burned incense mixed with blood and steel.
At the end of the hall sat a single figure on a high seat of obsidian and bone.
The Heavenly Demon.
He was not what Dugu expected.
No monstrous aura. No malicious grin. Just a man, weathered by time, draped in dark robes embroidered with shifting silver patterns. His eyes, however, were sharp, too sharp. Eyes that had seen kings fall and emperors beg.
The bone-masked escort bowed. "One from the capital. He bears a message."
The Heavenly Demon waved him away.
Li Dugu stepped forward and bowed. "This one is-"
"Spare the formalities," the Heavenly Demon interrupted, voice low but resonant. "I can smell the Imperial Qi on you."
Dugu froze.
The old man leaned forward slightly. "That cultivation… it's taught only within the palace. So tell me, child…"
The chamber grew deathly quiet.
"Do you have something to tell me?"
A drop of sweat slid down Dugu's back.
His heart thundered. This was not court, not some teahouse negotiation. If he lied, he would die before his next breath.
"I do," he answered, kneeling with both hands flat on the floor. "My name is Li Dugu. I was ordered to infiltrate the Heavenly Demonic Sect under the authority of the late Minister Wang Renchang."
The silence that followed was terrifying.
Then, slowly, the old man exhaled.
"So it was his idea," the Heavenly Demon said, more to himself than anyone else. "That explains the black seal."
He stood, robes whispering across the floor as he stepped down from the throne. Dugu dared not move.
"Wang Renchang was a lion in a den of serpents," the Heavenly Demon muttered, walking past Dugu toward the lanterns. "I knew it would happen. I warned him three winters ago, when his eyes first showed fear."
Dugu blinked. "You… knew him?"
The Heavenly Demon turned. "Better than most in your precious palace. We may not have agreed on many things, but he was one of the few who understood the cost of peace."
He paused.
"You are not the first spy the court has sent here. Most were liars. One tried to poison me." He waved toward a shadowed corner, where a skeleton slumped against the wall, still clad in faded robes of gold.
"You, however… chose to speak the truth."
Dugu remained silent.
"I'll let you live," the Heavenly Demon said flatly. "For now. You may remain here, train here, learn what we are… and decide for yourself who the real demons are."
He walked past Dugu once more, heading back toward the black throne.
"If you lie again, however…"
Dugu didn't need the threat to be finished. The chill in the air spoke clearly enough.
Li Dugu was assigned no grand chamber, no retinue, no servants.
He slept in a quiet stone room with a straw mat, a single candle, and no door.
And yet he breathed easier here than in the palace.
In the Heavenly Demonic Sect, words were scarce, but eyes were sharp. Every step felt watched, every mistake judged. Yet unlike the court, there were no smiling masks, no honeyed tongues hiding knives.
Just truth. Brutal, but honest.
On the third morning, the masked man from before returned. "Follow."
They walked to a flat clearing high above the valley, where the wind howled between jagged cliffs. Several figures stood waiting, clad in gray-black robes, each bearing a different weapon; spear, glaive, chain, fan, sword.
Their eyes fell on Dugu as if weighing his soul.
"This is Shen Guang," the masked escort said, gesturing to a lean man with silver-threaded hair and cold, narrow eyes. "Your instructor."
Shen Guang didn't bow.
"You're the palace rat," he said flatly. "Let's see what you've got."
Without warning, Shen drew a twin-bladed halberd and struck.
Dugu barely rolled aside, brushing the dirt with his sleeve as the weapon split the air where his head had been.
"Rule One of the Heavenly Demonic Sect," Shen said, blade still spinning. "You don't get respect. You earn it."
Dugu grit his teeth. No time to think. He stood, body flowing into the first form of the Imperial White Tiger Style, passed down to him by Wang Renchang.
Shen's eyes narrowed. "You've been trained properly. Not just in form… in intent."
Their weapons clashed. Dugu fought defensively, never overextending, every movement rooted in balance and flow.
Then Shen smiled.
A flicker— Dugu saw the next attack too late. The halberd came low and swept his legs from beneath him. His back slammed against the dirt.
Pain struck.
Shen stood over him. "Rule Two. We don't teach you to win… we teach you to survive."
He extended a hand, Dugu took it.
The weeks passed, Dugu trained under Shen by day. Sword forms, shadow footwork, blood qi conditioning, meditation among venomous mists. At night, he copied scriptures in candlelight and read volumes on cultivation theory.
He learned of the Eleven Cores—how each human was born with a different elemental affinity, and how one's core shaped not only power, but personality.
He met others too.
Qiu was a talented healer within the Heavenly Demonic Sect, mastering both traditional medicine and the subtle art of soul qi manipulation. Her skills could mend wounds few others could, making her indispensable in times of conflict.
Luo Yan was a deadly assassin of the sect, skilled in stealth, precision, and silent elimination. His reputation for striking swiftly and disappearing without a trace made him feared among enemies and respected among allies.
Together, they kept a close watch on Li Dugu, evaluating his potential with keen eyes.
They didn't welcome him, but they didn't reject him either.
They watched, tested, waited.
Dugu expected betrayal. Poison in his tea. A blade in the dark.
But it never came.
Instead, he found scrolls waiting in his room—notes on formations, corrections to his technique, a stitched leather-bound copy of "Principles of Soul Qi Manipulation."
He began to wonder.
Is this what Renchang wanted me to see?
One night, as the moon shone silver on the cliffside temple, Dugu knelt before Shen Guang during their final meditation session.
"Why did you take me in?" he asked.
Shen didn't open his eyes. "Because your master asked."
"My master…?"
"Wang Renchang."
Dugu's breath caught.
"He sent a letter. Not through scroll. Through the wind. A whisper we caught weeks before your arrival. Only someone with my core—Wind—could've heard it."
Shen finally opened his eyes.
"You weren't sent to spy, Li Dugu. You were sent to survive."
Dugu bowed deeply, heart pounding.
He thought he'd been walking into enemy territory.
But perhaps… this was the only place left untouched by the rot of the palace.
Days turned into weeks as Li Dugu settled into the rhythm of the Heavenly Demonic Sect. Each morning began before dawn, with grueling training beneath the watchful eyes of Shen Guang. The discipline was harsh, but unlike the subtle poison of court politics, it was straightforward—painful but honest.
Despite the cold reception from many, Li Dugu found a strange comfort in the unvarnished truth of the sect. Here, loyalty was earned through deeds, not whispered favors or hollow smiles. Even Qiu and Luo Yan, who observed him closely, seemed to hold a grudging respect beneath their stoic exteriors.
Yet, beneath the surface calm, Dugu's mind remained restless. The secrets of the sect, the mysterious strength of its members, and the shadow of his godfather's death all pressed on him like a tightening noose.
One evening, as the crimson sun dipped behind the jagged peaks, Dugu found himself alone in the cavernous library, the scent of ancient paper and incense thick in the air. His fingers traced the worn edges of a volume titled "The Veil Between Worlds."
A soft voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Curious, aren't you?"
He looked up to see Qiu stepping from the shadows, a faint smile playing on her lips. Her eyes gleamed with knowing.
"The sect holds many truths, some better left unspoken."
Dugu met her gaze steadily.
"My godfather believed that understanding these truths could change the fate of the empire."
Qiu's smile faded slightly.
"Change often comes at a price, Li Dugu. Be careful which path you choose."
The warning hung in the air as she disappeared as silently as she had come.
Outside, the wind howled, carrying with it whispers of a storm yet to come.
That night, Li Dugu lay on his straw mat, staring at the flickering candlelight. Qiu's words echoed in his mind—"Be careful which path you choose." He knew she wasn't just warning him about the sect's secrets, but about something deeper, darker.
The next morning, Shen Guang arrived earlier than usual, his expression grave.
"Today, you will face a trial," he announced without preamble. "A test not of strength, but of resolve."
Dugu's heart quickened. Trials were common in the sect, but none so sudden.
Shen led him through winding tunnels deeper into the mountain. The air grew colder, heavier, the silence almost suffocating.
They emerged into a cavern lit by phosphorescent moss, casting an eerie glow on the jagged walls.
In the center stood a stone pedestal, atop which rested a simple black box.
"This is the Box of Shadows," Shen said quietly. "Inside lies a truth you must confront. Only those who face it without fear can move forward."
Dugu nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat.
As he reached for the box, a chill ran down his spine—the moment felt like crossing a point of no return.
He lifted the lid.
Inside lay a single piece of jade, carved with the emblem of the Qinwu dynasty.
A whisper brushed his ear.
"Remember… not all who wear a crown are worthy of it."
Dugu's vision blurred. Faces from his past—his godfather's steady gaze, the cold eyes of the new emperor, shadows of betrayal—flashed before him.
He clenched the jade tightly.
"Show me the way," he whispered.
The cavern seemed to pulse with silent energy as Li Dugu stood, jade clenched in his fist. Shadows flickered along the jagged walls, whispering secrets that seemed to stretch beyond time itself.
Shen Guang's voice broke the silence. "The path ahead is not easy, Li Dugu. What you carry now is not just a token—it is a burden."
Dugu nodded, swallowing his fear. "I understand. I carry the hopes of those who have fallen… and those still trapped in darkness."
Shen regarded him for a moment, then turned. "Come. You will meet those who have walked this path before."
They descended further into the depths, arriving at a vast chamber where flickering flames cast dancing shadows on ancient murals depicting battles, betrayals, and sacrifices.
There, seated in quiet contemplation, were figures clad in dark robes—the elders of the Heavenly Demonic Sect.
Their eyes lifted as Dugu entered, measuring him with centuries of wisdom.
One stepped forward, his voice a gravelly echo. "So, the palace sends another rat. Speak your purpose."
Dugu met the elder's gaze steadily. "I seek truth. To understand what lies beneath the corruption of the empire—and to find a way to bring light to its darkest corners."
A murmur passed among the elders. The oldest nodded slowly. "Words spoken with courage… yet actions will prove your worth."
Shen Guang's gaze hardened. "Prepare yourself. Tomorrow, your trial begins in earnest."
As Dugu bowed to the council, the weight of his journey pressed down on him.
Outside, the winds howled against the mountain, as if warning the world of the storm brewing beyond the valley.
The next morning dawned cold and gray, the mountain shrouded in swirling mist. Li Dugu stood before the elders and fellow disciples, the eyes of the sect fixed upon him like the gaze of countless unseen watchers.
His trial was simple in name but treacherous in nature: survive seven days and seven nights alone in the Forbidden Hollow, a cavern rumored to be cursed, where the line between the living and the restless dead blurred.
Armed only with his wits, a short blade, and the teachings of Shen Guang, Dugu stepped into the yawning maw of the Hollow.
The air inside was thick, heavy with an unnatural chill. Shadows writhed along the walls, shifting into shapes that seemed almost human, then melted away.
Memories pressed against his mind—visions of Wang Renchang's last moments, whispers of palace intrigue, and the heavy burden of secrets that seemed to seep from every stone.
He pressed forward, each step measured and cautious, heart pounding like a drum in his chest.
At the heart of the Hollow, a faint glow emerged, revealing an ancient altar inscribed with faded runes.
As he approached, a voice echoed softly—familiar, yet distant.
"Seek not just to survive, but to understand."
Li Dugu closed his eyes, steadying his breath.
The trial was more than survival. It was a journey into the darkness within himself—and the empire he sought to save.
The cold breath of the Forbidden Hollow wrapped around Li Dugu like a shroud as he stepped deeper into its darkness. The narrow passage twisted and turned, its walls slick with damp moss and strange, faintly glowing fungi that cast eerie shadows. Every sound was amplified—the drip of water, the scrape of stone underfoot—until the silence itself became a living thing, watching him.
Dugu's mind raced, recalling Shen Guang's lessons: "The Hollow tests more than your body—it tests your spirit." He gripped the short blade at his waist, the only weapon he had. The jade token from the Box of Shadows lay pressed against his chest inside his robes, a silent reminder of the burden he carried.
As he pressed forward, the air grew thicker, as if the cavern itself breathed. Shapes moved just beyond his sight—whispers of past souls trapped between worlds. The legend said many who entered the Hollow never returned, their spirits claimed by the restless shadows.
A sudden chill seized Dugu's heart as a figure materialized before him—a silhouette wreathed in darkness, eyes glowing like embers.
"Who dares enter the Hollow unbidden?" the apparition hissed.
Li Dugu squared his shoulders, his voice steady despite the cold fingers of fear clutching at him. "I am Li Dugu, sent by Wang Renchang's will. I seek truth and light for a kingdom shrouded in darkness."
The specter laughed—a hollow, echoing sound that seemed to pierce the cavern walls. "Truth? Light? Foolish boy. This place is no sanctuary for hope."
Before Dugu could react, the shadow lunged, disappearing into a flurry of smoke. But he was ready—his blade flashed, slicing through the mist. The Hollow responded with a chorus of whispered curses and eerie laughter, but no further attacks came.
He pressed on, the weight of unseen eyes heavy on his back.
Hours passed—or was it days? Time twisted here, and Dugu had lost all sense of it. Hunger gnawed at his stomach, exhaustion pulled at his limbs, yet he refused to falter.
He found the ancient altar at the Hollow's heart as the faint glow of bioluminescent fungi bathed it in a ghostly light. The stone was inscribed with faded runes—symbols of protection, sacrifice, and hidden knowledge.
Kneeling before the altar, Dugu placed the jade token upon the cold surface. The runes pulsed faintly, and a warm glow spread through the cavern.
Suddenly, visions flooded his mind—scenes from a distant past. He saw the founding of the Heavenly Demonic Sect, warriors clad in black robes battling corruption and tyranny. He witnessed Wang Renchang standing tall amidst a court drowning in deceit, his roar echoing through marble halls.
But the visions darkened. He saw betrayal, whispered secrets, the rise of a new emperor whose cold ambition threatened to crush all hope.
Dugu gasped, tears stinging his eyes. The weight of history, of sacrifice and loss, settled upon him like a mantle.
A soft voice whispered in his ear.
"Only through understanding the past can you change the future."
He opened his eyes to find Qiu standing silently behind him, her gaze calm but fierce.
"You survived the Hollow's trial," she said. "Few do. But this is only the beginning."
Dugu nodded, determination reigniting within him. "I will learn. I will fight."
Qiu smiled briefly before turning away. "Then follow me. The sect awaits your next step."
Together, they emerged from the Hollow into the fading light of dusk. The mountain wind carried a chill, but Dugu felt a fire burning within.
His journey was far from over.
...
The moon hung low over the jagged peaks of Mount Huayin as Li Dugu followed Qiu through winding stone corridors lit only by flickering blue flames. The air was thick with incense and the scent of ancient herbs, a stark contrast to the cold darkness of the Forbidden Hollow he had just escaped.
"Few who enter the Hollow return with their sanity intact," Qiu said softly, her voice barely louder than a whisper. "But even fewer understand what they've truly faced."
Li Dugu glanced at her, curiosity mingling with exhaustion. "What does it mean? What was I shown?"
Qiu's dark eyes flickered with a mixture of sadness and resolve. "The past is tangled with blood and betrayal. The Heavenly Demonic Sect was born from the desire to punish a corrupt empire and protect the innocent. But even we are not immune to shadows."
They arrived at a low stone chamber where Luo Yan waited, seated cross-legged with closed eyes. At his side lay a set of throwing knives gleaming faintly in the lantern light.
"You've passed the first test," Luo Yan said without opening his eyes, voice calm and precise. "But passing alone will not save you."
Dugu bowed respectfully. "I'm ready for what comes next."
Luo Yan's eyes opened, cold and piercing. "Good. You will learn to move unseen, to strike without hesitation, and to heal wounds that words cannot reach. Your training begins now."
Days blurred into nights as Li Dugu pushed his limits. Under Luo Yan's strict tutelage, he learned the deadly arts of stealth and assassination. Every movement was precise, calculated, and silent. Luo Yan taught him to vanish into shadows, to read the faintest signs of danger, and to wield the dagger with lethal efficiency.
Yet it was Qiu's lessons in healing that kept his spirit from fracturing. She showed him how to manipulate soul qi, to mend flesh and soothe pain—not just of the body, but of the mind. Her hands were gentle but firm, her knowledge vast. In moments of despair, her presence was a balm.
One evening, as the cold wind howled outside, Dugu sat cross-legged beside the fire, replaying everything he had learned. The weight of his mission pressed down on him. He was no longer just the beggar boy from the streets of the capital. He was a warrior caught between two worlds—court and sect, light and shadow.
"Why do you stay?" he asked Qiu quietly, glancing at her. "Why dedicate yourself to this path?"
She looked at him with a smile tinged by old sorrow. "Because someone must. There are no heroes here, only those willing to fight for what remains."
Suddenly, a shadow passed by the entrance, swift and silent. Both turned instinctively, hands moving to weapons.
"Qiu, it's me," came a familiar voice. Luo Yan stepped forward, eyes wary but calm.
"We were watching," Qiu said, nodding. "The court's eyes are sharp. They have spies everywhere."
Dugu clenched his fists. "Then I must be sharper."
Luo Yan looked at him with a rare softness. "Remember, Li Dugu, survival is more than strength. It's patience, wisdom, and knowing when to strike."
The night deepened, but for the first time since arriving, Dugu felt a glimmer of hope. The Heavenly Demonic Sect was not merely a place of exile—it was a crucible. And he was being forged anew.