The corpses of Liu Feng and his disciples were never taken back.
Their husks lay in the village square until the crows came, tearing flesh from brittle bone. To the villagers, they were not martyrs, but warnings—reminders of what happened when one dared to challenge the orphan who walked with demons.
Whispers spread beyond Black Hollow.
Some called him a fiend born under the cursed moon. Others whispered of a youth who had slaughtered a sect elder with nothing but shadows and calm ruthlessness.
And the world listened.
---
In the Azure Cloud Sect, the sect master's fury shook the great hall.
"What do you mean Elder Liu Feng has not returned?!" His voice cracked like thunder.
The messenger disciple knelt, trembling. "Sect Master… reports say… he and his juniors were slain in Black Hollow Village. The killer used demonic arts."
The elders erupted in outrage.
"A demon dares kill one of ours?!"
"He must be erased! His corpse ground to dust!"
"Send the enforcers! Burn the entire village if need be!"
The sect master's face darkened. "Then so be it. Summon the Azure Enforcers. We will drag this fiend into the light and cleanse him with righteous fire."
The sect's banners rose. The heavens themselves seemed to stir.
---
Yet elsewhere, in the crimson-lit caverns of the Crimson Shadow Hall, another response brewed.
A cloaked figure knelt before a throne carved of obsidian, upon which sat a woman draped in robes as dark as night. Her beauty was cruel, her presence suffocating—a high-ranking cult mistress.
The emissary bowed. "Mistress, the boy who wields the Demon Lotus Scripture has revealed himself."
The woman's lips curved into a smile. "So, the Sovereign's legacy did not wither after all." Her voice was honey laced with poison.
She tapped a finger against her throne, eyes gleaming with interest.
"Send word. I want him found. Whether as ally, pawn, or corpse will depend… on his choice."
The shadows stirred, carrying her will into the world.
---
Back in Black Hollow, Shen Zong cultivated in silence.
The villagers no longer dared approach him. They left food outside his hut in trembling silence, not from kindness, but from fear. To them, he was no longer human—he was a curse they dared not anger.
Inside, Shen Zong sat cross-legged. His aura pulsed with each breath, black mist coiling like serpents around his body. His strength had grown rapidly, his cultivation nearing the third stage of Qi Awakening.
But he knew this peace was fleeting.
Already, he felt it—the shift in the air, the heavy gaze of fate. Both righteous and demonic forces were moving.
He opened his eyes, calm as ever.
"The world finally stirs. Good. Let them come."
The black lotus on his chest pulsed, its petals trembling as though eager for blood.
Shen Zong's faint smile carried no warmth, only resolve.
"The more they come… the faster I ascend."
Outside, the night deepened. Far away, armies of sect disciples prepared to march, and from the shadows, assassins of the cult began their hunt.
The cursed orphan's name had entered the game of the heavens.
And the world of cultivation… would never be the same.