Chapter 8: The Crimson Horizon
Crimson Ambush
Zhou Fan stood at the edge of the Zhuo estate's border before dawn, the dim light of early morning cutting through the mist. He sensed it first as a faint disturbance in the air – a tingling undercurrent in the Qi around him. Dark clouds gathered on the horizon, and just as the first crimson streaks of sunrise split the sky, a black-robed figure burst from the thicket. His palm ignited with a thin circle of scarlet demon flame.
The intruder struck before either one had fully reacted. Flowing Qi coalesced around Zhou Fan's arms like living blood serpents as he blocked a savage spear thrust. The impact jarred his bones; the spear pulsed with ominous darkness, as if forged from shadows and blood. Pain rippled through his body but Zhou Fan merely grinned. The world seemed to tilt, time slowed into jagged shards of crimson light. In that instant, his body moved of its own accord – a blur of ferocity and intent.
Steel rang on steel as Zhou Fan's blade met the assailant's spear. Sparks of inner demon Qi danced between them, black and red coiling through the air like snakes. The newcomer was clad in smoky robes with a crest behind his ear: the swirling crimson lotus of the Bloodshade Pavilion. This assassin's movements were graceful and ruthless, an alchemist's precision turned lethal. Zhou Fan found himself on the defensive, feeling the weight of how even this ordinary soldier had honed his blood arts. Clever, he acknowledged internally, pushing beyond polite reserve as every cell screamed to survive.
They separated for a breath; the assassin's eyes narrowed. "Zhou Fan," he hissed, lips curling into a cruel smile. "You've been hiding. But the Zhou bloodline will not escape its debts." The name stabbed at Zhou Fan's heart for a moment, but he merely tilted his head with a mocking bow. "Debts? I think you overestimate your grasp on fate." In response, the assassin lunged again, a flurry of crimson Qi slashes forcing Zhou Fan to retreat deeper into the wilderness.
Desperate Awakening
Pain carved a ridge of determination through Zhou Fan's body. Every exchange tested him – a blow to the chest that blackened his vision, a kick that rocked the earth beneath him – but still he stood. His blood spirit stirred, whispering like a distant storm. As the assassin's spear sliced down, crunching wood and stone, Zhou Fan's back slammed against an ancient oak tree. Splintered bark buried itself in his shoulder. If he didn't do something now, he would be killed under the first light of day.
Agony spiked in his leg – the assassin's blade had nicked bone – yet Zhou Fan felt an icy calm spread through his mind. No. Desperation sharpened his thoughts into glittering focus. The system interface glowed at the corner of his vision as his Life Force dipped low, triggering an emergency response. With a low mechanical hum in his mind, he reacted on instinct: every muscle contracted and released in perfect timing. He gathered all his Qi and focused it into a single point in his core.
Without conscious thought, he performed the Souldevour's Grasp, a hidden technique that coursed venomous blood-Qi through his veins. His body trembled; the ground cracked beneath him as if acknowledging the eruption of power. For a heartbeat, he blurred into motion. The assassin's next strike was met with the roar of Zhou Fan's unleashed might – a palm eruption of black-red energy that detonated between them like a short-range explosion.
The assassin stumbled, visage twisted in shock as the Qi struck like a tidal wave. He soared backward into a gnarled pine, shards of the trunk sprouting from his chest. He crumpled to the ground, coughing blood tinted like ink. Zhou Fan stood over him, drenched in dawn's blood-scented light, unsteady but alive. Around them the mist parted to reveal trees with blood on their leaves from the high strikes.
A strange clarity enveloped Zhou Fan. He felt the seal break inside his dantian as the surge of insight filled him. The pain, the rage, the system's relentless calculations – all congealed into a roaring truth: he could transcend this ceiling of power. The demonic energy awakened in his veins, luminous and hungry. A raw draft of strength thudded in his temples.
His legs shook as he bent low, forcing the last of his Qi into his pores. A rumble echoed beneath the roots. In the silence that followed, Zhou Fan nearly collapsed – until golden light flared along his spine. When he caught his breath, he looked down and saw his armor, scorched and tattered, slowly reknitting itself under a rose-gold aura. His Qi reservoirs refilled in an instant. The breakthrough had taken hold.
System: Realm Advanced! bloomed in his mind's eye.
System:
- Realm: Qi Gathering (Initial)
- Max HP: 450
- Max Qi: 120
- Stat Bonuses: +50 Strength, +50 Soul Power
- New Ability Unlocked: "Demonic Spine Shatter (Lv.1)"
Zhou Fan flexed his fingers. The air around him smelled of ozone and blood. So this is what it feels like to break free. A faint, triumphant smile touched his lips as the assassin twitched on the ground, still choking. Zhou Fan could have finished him with a thought – but he didn't. Instead, he closed his eyes for a moment, letting the rush ebb and silence the chaos inside his head. He had passed the trial by blood.
Confrontation in the Dark
Late that night, the Zhuo estate was silent beneath a veiled sky. A single lantern hung outside the steward's quarters – a signal he had set. Zhou Fan, now more blade than man with muscles taut and eyes glowing faintly, entered quietly. In the shadowed tea room, Zhuo Qin waited by a low table. Her sharp eyes gleamed at him, concern and calculation warring behind her usually serene face. Though they were well known to each other in the household, their roles made intimacy dangerous. Tonight, the balance was shifting.
He bowed slightly. "My lady Zhuo," he greeted in a low voice. Every inch of him was bruised and burning with fresh power; he chose to speak of trivialities. "It grows cold out. Should I fetch another candle?" She gave no answer, instead studying the new tension in his shoulders. For a long moment, no one spoke except the quiet crackle of the lantern.
Finally, Zhuo Qin poured tea and set it before him. "You are not wounded, Zhou Fan?" she asked softly. The question was simple, but her eyes knew better. He could hear the unasked question: What have you been doing beyond our lands? He sipped the bitter tea with a steady hand. "Nothing that I could not handle," he replied, refusing to meet her gaze. He claimed confidence he did not entirely feel.
Her voice was like ice. "I felt something out there. Power…changed." Her stare locked onto his face, searching. Despite himself, Zhou Fan felt exposed. She remembers how it felt the last time I awakened power, he thought. "Only the threat you warned me about," he said between clenched teeth, referring to assailants from before. "They will trouble us no more." His words were smooth, but each syllable hammered his resolve.
Zhuo Qin's lips trembled into a delicate smile. "I am glad," she whispered. She stood and approached, sensing more than she let show. "Zhou Fan," she said, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. For the first time he looked her in the eye – the depth of her loyalty flashing. "Whatever darkness you bear, remember that someone trusts you here." In the faint lantern light her voice took on warmth. But when he relaxed slightly under her touch, he noticed her hand didn't rest firmly on him – as though she remained half on guard.
A flicker of guilt roared through Zhou Fan's mind. She had protected him in front of her father and family elders; he had relied on her kindness. "My lady…" he began quietly. Words failed him. Instead he bowed again, a warrior's acknowledgment of a debt he couldn't repay. She drew back, maintaining the formality of rank between them.
Silence fell again like a shroud. Finally Zhuo Qin inclined her head toward the dusk sky visible through the window. "The world beyond these walls is not safe," she said softly. "If you intend to leave, be certain. The Crown Empire's clans are unforgiving. And," she added, voice hardening slightly, "I will hold you to your word when the time comes." She turned and left him alone in the hush, leaving the candle flickering and his thoughts unguarded.
Zhou Fan exhaled. When Zhuo Qin entered his mind he had tried to be a servant; when she left it he felt like a fledgling dragon testing its wings in the wind. Trust. He knew he could not fully trust anyone here, but her faith lent him a dangerous courage. As he extinguished the lantern, the system offered a quiet confirmation of his emotional gamble.
System: Emotional Risk Analysis:
- Trust Level with Zhuo Qin increased by +20.
- Hidden Demonic Aura still undetected.
- Suggestion: Maintain cordial subservience.
The line "Maintain cordial subservience" glowed briefly, and he smirked inwardly. They both played roles in this enclosed game of shadows.
Crimson Oath
On the eastern road out of Zhuo estate, Zhao Feng, his blood-infant companion, scouted ahead under the moonlight. From the silhouette of a broken pavilion, Zhao Feng raised an alarm. Zhou Fan's instincts kicked in – someone approached. He slid through the underbrush in silence to intercept.
Stepping into the moon-dappled clearing was a stranger: a lean man with cold black eyes, dark robes trimmed with red, and a subtle scar across his throat. He carried a crimson gourd painted with the Zhou family crest – a reminder of a lineage that Zhou Fan no longer claimed. A malachite glow surrounded him. An aura of intoxicating blood Qi wafted off the gourd's stopper.
The man bowed low. "Brother Zhou Fan," he said with a twisted smile. The voice was smooth as oil, foreign yet faintly familiar in cadence. Doubt flickered through Zhou Fan's mind – the title "brother" was seldom used unless one truly knew the other's origins. Then realization sharpened like a knife: this was Lin Yue, once a protege of the same Luo clan elders who raised Zhou's original incarnation, now a disciple of the Bloodshade Pavilion.
Lin Yue straightened, his hand hovering near the gourd. "You leave so soon? The Pavilion has waited for you." He took a step forward, crimson flower sigils stirring along his sleeves. "Tell the Emperor of Earth's remnant that his defiance ends today."
Zhou Fan's sword was already in hand before Lin Yue could finish speaking. Blood-red Qi roiled around the blade, a dragon uncoiling. With a single low sweep he shattered the gourd stopper. A gout of lifeblood Qi gushed out, hissing as it touched the ground. The alchemist's eyes blazed, and tendrils of spiritual poison spiraled out from his feet. "You have power… but are you prepared for what lies ahead?" Lin Yue taunted.
In that breath, Zhou Fan lunged – a flash of demonic power meeting focused alchemy. Their clash filled the air with fire and mist: steel singing, Qi coils strangling, inner demons gnashing. Lin Yue spat a torrent of obscenities, baring fangs in rage at his gourd's destruction.
But Zhou Fan was no longer the youth he once was. He parried, twisted, struck – each move a lesson learned from battle and blood sacrifice. With a bone-jarring blow, he severed one of Lin Yue's crimson-etched sleeves. Lin Yue grimaced, his blood Qi faltering as the control over his poison faltered. He retreated behind an illusion of dripping blood vines, hissing threats.
Yet, just as quickly as it started, the fight ended. Lin Yue stumbled back into the shadows at the forest's edge, a thin smear of scarlet marring his neck from their close parry. "One day," he snarled before disappearing completely, "the Zhou blood calls me home… but today is not that day."
Zhou Fan stood alone, chest heaving. Zhao Feng slithered back to coil at his feet, sensing both triumph and new conflict. He realized with grim satisfaction that the fight had been a trap – designed not to kill him, but to draw him out. The traitor of his own bloodline had tied his loyalty to the Bloodshade's cause.
The night was quiet again. The red moon was obscured by drifting clouds, but in that darkness Zhou Fan felt his resolve solidify. He whispered under his breath, "Any ties I had to that past are severed. Only strength remains."
Beyond the Estate Walls
Dawn's first light broke across the sky as Zhou Fan crossed the main gate of the Zhuo estate for the first time as its true master. He paused on the threshold, feeling wind on his face – a simple sensation charged with meaning. The sprawling lands of the Zhuo clan lay to the west; behind him, the stone walls where he had once grovelled were fading into the light. Before him, the world yawned open.
To the east lay boundless wilderness: emerald forests and distant mountains wreathed in mist. New birdsong filled his ears. He realized, with a kind of wonder, that he had never known how vast the horizon truly was until this moment. The system quietly acknowledged his step outside the domain.
System: New Territory Detected. Coordinates: Eastern Hinterlands.
- Outside Zhuo Estate: Progress Unlocked (Stage 1/1)
- Active Quest: "Explore the Unknown"
- Note: Danger Level Uncharted. Proceed with caution.
Zhou Fan mounted his warhorse and looked back once. The Zhuo estate's grand gates loomed far behind, but already they seemed small. Zhuo Qin's words the night before resonated in his mind – be certain of your choice.
He returned a slow, confident smile. Every beat of his heart hammered a promise: this was where chains shattered. Ahead lay both danger and opportunity. He had tasted power, made new enemies, and stepped beyond a cage of his own servitude. Now, all that remained was the road.
As the estate's walls vanished behind a curve of road, Zhou Fan's thoughts turned to the future battles he would face, and the vengeance he would carve out of the world. The system pulsed quietly, a reminder that much remained to achieve. But in that quiet dawn, nothing could stop the rising storm he had become.
Zhou Fan urged his horse onward into the wilderness, the pursuit of power and revenge guiding every step. The road to ascension had finally opened before him, infinite and drenched in bloodlight. The Zhuo estate had become little more than a distant memory – one he would revisit only when he needed to watch the stars from its walls on the night of his triumph.