The Azure Pavilion stood in ruins. What had once been a grand martial arena—an open courtyard of jade stone surrounded by towering pillars—was now a battlefield scarred by fire, blood, and shattered bones. The smoke of burned incense still clung to the air, mixing with the stench of charred flesh.
Feng Xieyun stood at the center of this devastation, his robes torn, skin streaked with ash and blood. The lotus flames of his Dao Bone flickered faintly around him, crimson petals unfurling and dimming in rhythm with his breath. He looked like a youth on the verge of collapse, yet his very presence made the surviving cultivators take a step back.
No one dared to underestimate him any longer.
The silence was broken by the snap of wood. Elder Han—his face twisted by rage—slammed the half-broken staff he held into the ground. His voice carried through the ruined courtyard like a whip:
"This child cannot be allowed to live."
Murmurs rose immediately. Several elders exchanged glances, their expressions torn between fear and ambition. Only a handful still clung to hesitation.
"He bears a demonic aura," Elder Han continued, eyes gleaming with zealotry. "Did you not see the crimson flames? Did you not feel the heavens themselves recoil when he cried out? This is no ordinary child of the Feng family. This is a calamity born in human flesh."
A younger elder, his beard streaked with silver, frowned deeply. "And yet, he is the son of Feng Li. To raise our hands against him is to rebel against the patriarch himself."
"Patriarch?" Elder Han sneered. "Patriarch Feng Li is blind, deceived by his wife's bloodline. This boy is tainted by the Lin Clan. Worse—he carries the Heavenly Demon Dao Bone. Do you understand what that means?"
At the mention of the Dao Bone, the circle of elders stiffened. Fear and greed flickered in their eyes.
The Heavenly Demon Dao Bone. A relic of the Demon God Path, said to be born only once in a thousand generations. It was the inheritance of calamity, the power to devour Dao itself. Whoever controlled such a child could tilt the balance of the Six Realms.
Elder Han's lips curled into a thin smile. "We cannot allow such a monster to grow under our roof. If we do not act now, one day it will be our heads that roll."
Several voices rose in agreement.
"He must be eliminated."
"The sect cannot shelter a devil."
"For the future of the Pavilion, this child cannot remain."
Feng Xieyun listened in silence. His gaze swept across their faces—elders who had once taught him, guided him in small ways, smiled at him as though he were one of their own. Now their eyes gleamed with fear, greed, and malice.
Something in his chest twisted.
The System stirred. Its cold, mechanical voice echoed in his mind:
> [Hatred detected.]
[Host advised: eliminate threats before they eliminate you.]
[Kill, and grow stronger.]
The words slithered like venom, coiling around his thoughts. For a moment, his vision blurred. The flames at his fingertips pulsed with hunger.
And then—he remembered her.
A whisper softer than the System's roar, fragile yet unyielding: "Yu… do not lose yourself."
Xieyun's fists tightened. His heartbeat thundered like war drums.
But before he could act, Elder Han raised his hand.
"Elders," Han barked. "Form the Seal of Suppression. We will bind this boy before Patriarch Feng Li returns. Once restrained, we can decide whether to kill him… or use him."
The circle tightened. Sigils of light burst into existence as the elders moved in unison, ancient chants filling the night. Runes of suppression coiled like chains of lightning, weaving into a great net that closed around the youth.
The pavilion disciples watching from the shadows trembled in fear. To move against the patriarch's son—this was rebellion! Yet none dared intervene. The ambition of the elders was a storm no disciple could resist.
The chains descended.
Feng Xieyun lifted his head. His eyes glowed crimson, the lotus flames blooming into a storm around him.
"I gave you respect," he said softly. His voice carried, clear and cold, cutting through the chanting like a blade. "I treated you as elders. And this is how you repay me?"
The runes struck. The chains wrapped around him. For a moment, his knees bent. Blood dripped from his lips.
The elders roared in triumph. "Bind him!"
The disciples gasped. "They've done it—"
But then the air shifted.
The flames within him flared, not red, but deep violet, streaked with gold. The chains cracked. The runes flickered.
Elder Han's eyes widened. "Impossible—"
Xieyun raised his head, crimson fire wreathing his entire body. His voice shook the heavens:
"You call me calamity? Then let me show you calamity!"
With a deafening roar, the lotus flames exploded outward, tearing through the net of suppression. Sigils shattered like glass. The courtyard was drowned in a storm of fire, each petal of flame sharp as a blade.
The nearest elder screamed as his body was sliced apart, his flesh and soul devoured by the infernal lotus. Another tried to flee, only for a lotus petal to pierce his chest, igniting him from within until nothing remained but ash.
Blood sprayed across the broken stones. The elders' chants turned to shrieks of terror.
"Monster!"
"He's a devil!"
"Run!"
But there was no escape. The flames spread like a living sea, swallowing everything in reach.
Xieyun stood in the center, his robes torn, his eyes glowing like molten stars. His voice was cold, merciless:
"You wanted a weapon? You wanted a demon? Then die by the hand of the demon you sought to create."
One by one, the elders fell, their bodies consumed, their screams echoing into the night. The disciples watched in horror as their masters—the very pillars of the Pavilion—were reduced to nothing.
When the last elder collapsed into ash, silence returned.
Only Xieyun remained standing. His flames dimmed, leaving behind only scorched stone and the stench of death.
His body trembled. He staggered, nearly falling. His strength was spent, his soul aching from the eruption of power.
The System's voice purred in satisfaction:
> [Host has eliminated enemies.]
[Hatred harvested.]
[Power increased.]
Xieyun closed his eyes. His chest tightened. He could still hear their screams, still see the looks of betrayal in their eyes.
He whispered to himself, hoarse: "You forced this path upon me."
Above, the crimson moon glowed brighter, as if mocking his grief.
And somewhere, beyond sight, the shadow of the Unknown God stirred—watching, smiling.