The forest trembled with footsteps.
Birds fled the canopy as dozens of figures marched beneath, armored and armed with precision. These were not mere patrolmen, nor wandering Gu Masters. This was a hunt squad, handpicked from one of the region's mid-tier clans.
At their head strode an elder, hair silver, eyes sharp. A Rank 3 Gu Master, his aura oppressive. Behind him, twenty Rank 1 and Rank 2 cultivators moved in formation, their Gu complementing one another:
Defensive skin Gu users forming a vanguard.
Strength Gu reinforcing front-line fighters.
Attack Gu—arrows, flame, and blades—ready at range.
Support Gu users, prepared with healing, detection, and control.
It was not an army. But for one rogue cultivator—especially a "demon"—it was a death sentence.
The MC crouched among twisted roots, shadows coiled around him like a living cloak. His abyssal puppets twitched nearby, three corpses strung with tendrils, waiting for command.
He had known they would come eventually. The tribulation's lightning, the spreading rumors, the puppet sightings—it all painted a target on his back.
But to see them gathered like this… He exhaled slowly, tension sharpening into cold focus.
So. A clan finally moves against me.
The abyss purred, hungry. Devour them. Break them. Their essence will be ours.
"No," he whispered. "Not head-on. Not yet. This will be blood and shadows—my battlefield."
The squad reached the clearing. The elder raised a hand, halting them. His voice was grim.
"The demon is near. Spread formation. Do not underestimate him. He fights with powers outside our understanding. Crush him swiftly."
His words had barely left his lips when the ground erupted.
Abyssal tendrils speared upward, impaling two Gu Masters before they could react. The corpses convulsed, shadows burrowing inside them. Seconds later, they rose again, hollow-eyed, attacking their own allies.
"Control Gu!" someone shouted. "He's turning the dead into puppets!"
Chaos rippled through the formation.
The MC burst from the trees, abyssal armor crawling across his body, claws gleaming with the fused Abyssal Blade. He struck like a storm—tearing through one fighter, shattering another's defenses.
But the clan responded with discipline.
"Formation—lock him down!" the elder roared.
Defensive Gu Masters surged forward, their stone-hardened bodies intercepting his claws. Behind them, flame Gu lit the air ablaze, forcing him back. Arrows of light pierced the shadows, severing tendrils before they reached new prey.
He snarled, shadows lashing wildly. His puppets fought beside him, dragging enemies down, but were quickly destroyed under concentrated fire.
The abyss howled for slaughter, but his instincts screamed truth—he was being boxed in.
The elder stepped forward, activating his Gu. A wave of crushing gravity descended, pressing the MC to his knees. His abyssal armor cracked under the strain.
"You are no cultivator," the elder spat. "You are an abomination. Today, your demonic path ends."
The squad tightened formation. Dozens of attacks rained toward him.
For the first time since his reincarnation, the MC felt cornered.
But desperation breeds evolution.
He slammed his claw into the earth, shadows erupting outward like a sea of writhing tendrils. They dug deep, searching, grasping—until they found what he sought.
Roots. Dead corpses. Old bones. The remnants of forgotten battles.
The abyss surged, fusing with them. A wave of skeletal, half-formed puppets burst from the soil, swarming the Gu Masters.
Screams filled the air. Formation collapsed as the squad struggled against the sudden horde.
The elder's eyes widened. "This… this power—!"
The MC staggered to his feet, shadows burning around him. His body was broken, blood dripping, armor fractured. But his gaze was steady.
He knew now: he could not win outright. Not yet.
But he could survive. And survival was victory.
"Remember this," he rasped, voice carrying through the chaos. "The Abyss does not yield. I do not kneel. Hunt me if you dare—your corpses will serve me next."
With that, he vanished into the shadows, leaving behind fire, blood, and the echo of screams.
When the battle ended, half the squad lay dead. The survivors trembled, broken, dragging the injured elder away.
Word spread quickly.
The demon had fought an entire clan squad.
He had killed their best.He had escaped.
And worse—he had raised an army of the dead.