The Blackflame Clan's Grand Hall had never felt so suffocating. The obsidian pillars stretched upward like spears piercing the heavens, each etched with blood-soaked history: battles fought, heroes slain, enemies crushed. Torches sputtered, their crimson flames bathing the Elders in flickering shadows. Rows of disciples whispered among themselves, their gazes fixated on the two figures standing at the center of the Bloodstone Arena.
Lian Zhen.
Lian Rong.
The Patriarch's son versus the clan's favored prodigy.
For many, this was no contest at all.
"Place your bets," a sharp-voiced disciple sneered from the crowd. "The Patriarch's useless son won't last three strikes."
Another chuckled. "Three? You're generous. One is enough for Senior Brother Rong."
Zhen heard every whisper. He let the words settle deep within, not with shame—but with fuel. His knuckles tightened until they cracked. The System's faint hum echoed inside his mind, a reminder that he wasn't alone.
\[Villain Quest Activated]
**Objective:** Humiliate Lian Rong in front of the clan.
**Bonus Objective:** Plant discord within the ranks.
**Reward:** Access to Poison Monarch's Basic Arts.
The blue text vanished, leaving Zhen with a smile no one understood.
---
"Begin!" An Elder's voice thundered like rolling drums.
Lian Rong lunged first. His blade whistled, gleaming with fiery qi as he cut toward Zhen's neck. Fast. Deadly. It was a strike designed not merely to win, but to kill. The crowd gasped in awe of his ferocity.
But Zhen didn't flinch.
*Shadow Maiden Yue…* he whispered in thought.
Her cold laughter rippled through his mind. "So eager, little inheritor. Very well—let the shadows be your shroud."
The world shifted. Darkness pooled beneath his feet, and in an instant, Zhen's body flickered away from Rong's strike. To the audience, it seemed like he vanished into smoke.
Gasps erupted.
"What?!"
"Impossible—how did he evade that speed?"
Lian Rong's brow furrowed, his teeth grinding. "A trick. That's all it is!" He slashed again, unleashing a storm of blazing strikes, but each one cut through nothing but shadows. Zhen's movements were fluid, his body weaving between blades as if he had rehearsed this dance a thousand times.
Finally, he appeared behind Rong, his lips curling.
"Are you finished showing off?" Zhen whispered.
The words were soft, but in the silence that followed, every single person in the hall heard them. The whispers turned to stunned silence.
Rong's face flushed crimson. His aura flared hotter, flames licking across the arena floor. "You dare mock me?!"
---
Zhen's heart pounded, though outwardly he looked calm. Inside, he knew—this was not his power alone. Without the System, without Yue's guidance, he would've been cut down already. But weakness was not failure. Weakness was a mask—and he would wear it until it no longer fit.
\[Villain Tip: Strike when pride blinds the enemy.]
The Poison Monarch's voice slithered through his mind, venomous and mocking. Zhen's gaze sharpened.
Lian Rong, consumed by fury, abandoned reason. He charged recklessly, his blade glowing hotter, leaving trails of fire across the floor. His strikes had power, yes—but no precision.
Zhen sidestepped, shadow tendrils licking at his form. His counter was not a strike, not yet. Instead, he murmured, just loud enough for the nearest disciples to hear:
"It seems the clan's so-called genius can't even land a hit."
The whispers spread instantly.
"Did he hear that?"
"He's provoking him—!"
Humiliation. That was the true weapon.
Rong roared, his flame qi bursting outward in a wave. It scorched the stone, the torches, and nearly engulfed Zhen. Nearly. At the last second, Zhen called forth Yue's power again, melting into shadow, letting the flames pass harmlessly through his afterimage. When he reappeared, he was directly before Rong, his fist wreathed in faint darkness.
He struck.
A clean, sharp blow landed squarely on Rong's chest. It wasn't enough to kill—but it sent him flying back several meters, crashing into the Bloodstone floor with a sickening crack.
The hall fell silent.
Rong coughed blood, his face twisted in disbelief. "No… no, this can't—!"
Zhen straightened, his shadow fading, leaving only his calm figure behind. His chest rose and fell with deliberate steadiness. He looked around the hall, meeting the eyes of Elders and disciples alike.
"Is this," he said softly, voice carrying like a blade of ice, "the genius you all praised so highly?"
Whispers erupted instantly.
---
The duel was over. The Elders exchanged uneasy glances, some intrigued, others unsettled. Patriarch Lian Xu watched from his throne, his eyes narrowing, unreadable. But Zhen caught it—the faintest flicker of approval.
The System chimed again.
\[Quest Completed: Humiliate Lian Rong]
Reward Unlocked: Poison Monarch's Basic Arts (Venom Qi Cultivation).
Bonus Objective Achieved: Clan Discord +10.]
Zhen smiled inwardly. He had not only defeated Lian Rong, he had planted a seed. A seed of doubt, of discord, of whispers that would grow in the shadows.
He glanced once more at Rong, writhing in fury and shame. Their eyes locked, and in that instant, Zhen knew—this was only the beginning.
---
Later that night, Zhen sat cross-legged in his chamber. The System Space unfurled before him once more. The Poison Monarch stepped from his blackened door, eyes gleaming like sickly green lanterns.
"You did well, child. Pride is the sharpest poison—administered not to the body, but to the heart. You've learned your first lesson."
Zhen closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. *Yes. Slowly, they'll all see. Slowly, I'll rise. Not as their hero… but as their shadow.*
From the darkness, countless doors loomed, whispers of 100,000 villains echoing faintly.
And Lian Zhen smiled.
For the first time, it felt genuine.
---