Evil begets evil.
For a man to be evil, they must do evil.
And when a man is evil, what they do will be evil.
Xiao Chen sat unmoving in the shadowed depths of the cave, blood crusting his skin, clothes hanging in tatters. His breath was steady, deep, and deliberate, each inhale dragging the chill of the mountain into his lungs.
He guided his Dou Qi through his meridians.
With his malevolent core primed, it overflowed. His dantian flooded with raw malice — hungry, corrosive, alive — feeding on every strand of Dou Qi he had refined, only to feed the very darkness it was born from.
Eighth level of Dou Zhe… ninth…
Evil amplified evil. Energy surged like a storm tide, crashing through his system, tearing down the barriers of his cultivation.
Dou Shi.
His body quaked as the change took hold. His Dou Qi grew dense, heavy like molten metal, coiling within him like a living thing. But it didn't stop there.
First level. Second. Third.
His veins burned, his flesh stretched to contain the torrent, his bones singing with the weight of newfound power.
Fourth. Fifth. Sixth. Seventh.
The malice deepened, coiling tighter with every pulse, drowning out the faint remnants of hesitation that lingered in his mind.
Eighth level of Dou Shi.
The cave became hostile. Thick green energy twined with thin red threads seeped from his pores, clinging to the walls like a swarm of writhing ghosts. The very air became suffocating, as if unseen hands pressed against every surface.
Around him, a hundred faint, spectral forms writhed and howled — echoes of the excess energy, the ghosts of his heart demons made manifest — only to be crushed into silence by the weight of the demon lurking within.
Xiao Chen opened his eyes.
Pitch-black orbs, pale green pupils at their center, gazed unblinking into the void.