A heavy knock shook the frail wooden door.
"Liu Shen! Come out, now!"
The voice outside was sharp, laced with authority. Liu Shen opened his eyes, golden irises gleaming in the dark. The tiny wisp of spiritual energy he had just begun circulating dissipated with his rising breath.
They're faster than expected. Still… a test, then.
The door slammed open without waiting for an answer.
Two armored inner court guards stepped in, spears raised. Behind them stood an old man in green robes, his face carved with deep frown lines and authority—Elder Mo, the outer court enforcer.
"So," Elder Mo said, eyes narrowing. "The cripple shows fangs."
Liu Shen didn't speak.
He slowly rose from the floor, moving with calm dignity that didn't suit a servant.
"The Feng Clan tolerates much," Elder Mo continued, walking forward. "But when a lowborn dares injure a core disciple, it becomes a matter of blood and rules."
"You speak of rules?" Liu Shen said, voice low. "Were those same rules present when I was beaten to the ground daily for fifteen years?"
Elder Mo's eyes flickered.
So he remembers everything now. No sign of brain damage. Hmph.
"The weak must endure," the elder replied coldly. "And you were born trash."
"Wrong," Liu Shen said. "I was made trash."
The room fell silent. Then—
Boom!
Spiritual pressure exploded from Elder Mo's palm as he raised it.
"Disrespectful little—!"
Before the strike landed, Liu Shen moved.
His fingers traced a strange arc in the air—an ancient demonic symbol. Invisible to mortals, but etched into the very air itself.
A pulse of black mist surged from his palm, intercepting the elder's strike.
The blow dissolved mid-air.
"What?!"
Even the guards stepped back, eyes wide.
That black mist—the same one seen earlier—now spread like a creeping shadow from Liu Shen's body, coiling around his arm like a snake. It was faint, barely noticeable, but to a trained cultivator, it reeked of something ancient. Malevolent. Forbidden.
"Y-You—what technique is that?!"
So they don't recognize it.
Good.
Liu Shen let the mist fade slowly, returning to silence. "This servant apologizes," he said, voice flat. "I will accept punishment. But if anyone raises a hand to me again… I will break it."
He bowed.
It wasn't humility—it was a warning.
Elder Mo's face turned purple. But he didn't attack again.
He couldn't.
There was something… wrong about the boy now. The presence behind that black mist was suffocating. Ancient.
That pressure… this is no mere servant boy. Did the heavens misplace a monster among us?
"Put him in the Reflection Pavilion," Elder Mo growled. "Three days. No food, no water."
The guards hesitated.
"That's a place for rogue cultivators—"
"Three days."
"Yes, Elder!"
The men grabbed Liu Shen roughly by the arms, dragging him out.
He didn't resist.
His golden eyes simply narrowed… and smiled faintly.
A good place to cultivate.
Let's see how much of the Codex I can unlock before they realize what they've done.
---
Hours Later – Feng Clan, Reflection Pavilion
The cell was underground.
Cold. Silent. No light except for a single flickering spirit crystal on the ceiling. Most would have shivered in terror here—Reflection Pavilion was a place meant to break the minds of unruly disciples.
But Liu Shen sat calmly, cross-legged on the stone floor.
The moment the door slammed shut, he began to draw energy inward.
Time to peel away this seal, layer by layer.
The Demonic Codex pulsed inside him—its voice finally stirring.
"Awaken, Sovereign... the path of demons begins anew."
A circle of black light formed beneath him.
Runes ignited, one by one, across the floor.
Liu Shen's cultivation resumed.
And this time, nothing would stop it.