The storm had ended, but its echoes lingered across the land.
News traveled faster than arrows. By the time dawn touched the mountains, every sect, clan, and wandering cultivator had heard the whispers:
A demon has awakened.
The cursed orphan has broken death itself.
An undying monster now walks among us.
---
At the grand Martial Alliance hall in Luoyang, dozens of sect masters and clan leaders gathered in grim silence.
The air was heavy with incense and unspoken fear.
The Alliance Chief, Elder Xu, slammed his staff on the jade floor. "You all know why we are here. The boy… Shen Zong… must be eliminated before his shadow swallows the Jianghu!"
An old Taoist from the Heavenly Sword Sect stroked his beard, voice solemn. "Undying bodies belong only to the myths of the Immortal Ancestors. If this boy truly touched such enlightenment, then no blade can end him. We face not a man, but a calamity."
A scholar from the White Lotus Clan sneered. "Calamity or not, he is still a lone orphan. The Alliance unites hundreds of sects. Shall we cower before a boy?"
But murmurs rippled. None forgot the field of corpses left behind in one night.
---
Meanwhile, far from their plotting, Shen Zong sat alone atop a blackened cliff.
His robes were torn, his body drenched in blood—yet his breathing was steady. His eyes reflected neither triumph nor sorrow, only calm.
Immortality… he thought, gazing at his hands.
The wounds he received had vanished as though erased. His qi circulated endlessly, no longer bound by the limits of flesh. Yet with every pulse of power, the cursed mark on his chest flared, whispering in a tongue only he could hear.
A blessing… or a shackle?
He closed his eyes, sinking into meditation.
---
Below the cliff, the world was not still. Scouts trailed him like wolves, waiting for a moment of weakness. Messengers raced to deliver news. Assassins sharpened blades.
For the first time in centuries, the Jianghu united in purpose—not against foreign invaders, not against rival sects, but against one boy whose existence threatened their balance.
And yet, in the silence of his meditation, Shen Zong's lips curved into the faintest smile.
"Come, then. If all the Jianghu wishes to bury me… I shall bury the Jianghu."