The night swallowed his vow, the moon shining like a witness to his lust and vengeance.
Kael turned back to his hut, his steps slow but steady. Inside his chest, desire and rage burned together, forging the path of his return.
And far away, in her chamber, Lira lay awake. For reasons she could not understand, her heart beat faster, and a shadow of unease clouded her dreams.
The morning sun was warm, its rays falling across the tiled roofs of the Azure Sect. Bells rang across the mountain, calling the disciples to the main courtyard. It was the day of the sect's monthly gathering — a time when disciples showed their progress, elders gave lectures, and the higher-ranked disciples reminded everyone of their place.
Kael had no choice but to attend. Though crippled and despised, the sect still counted him as one of their disciples, if only to use him as a warning for others: Do not fail, or you will end up like him.
He walked slowly through the stone paths, his legs aching, his thin body trembling with every step. Some disciples saw him pass and smirked. Others spat on the ground. A few muttered insults, loud enough for him to hear.
"Trash."
"Should've died long ago."
"A cripple doesn't belong here."
Kael ignored them. He had grown used to such words. His face showed no anger, no shame. He moved like a shadow, quiet and unbothered, but inside his heart burned.
The courtyard was wide, paved with white stone. Dozens of disciples were already gathered, forming neat rows according to their ranks. At the front stood the inner disciples, their robes neat, their faces full of pride. At the back stood the outer disciples, more plain, more restless. Kael stood at the very edge, alone.
On a raised platform, the elders sat in high-backed chairs. Their eyes swept across the disciples, judging, calculating. In the center of them all stood Lira.
She was dressed in pale blue robes, her long black hair tied with a silver pin, her face glowing with purity. A faint aura of light surrounded her, soft yet powerful. She was the sect's Saintess — the pride of Azure Sect, the flower every disciple admired.
Kael's eyes lingered on her. His heart tightened. Desire and vengeance twisted together inside him. She was beautiful, untouched, like a jewel. And she had mocked him once before. He swore he would see her break.
The head elder stood and raised his hand for silence.
"Disciples of Azure Sect," he said, his voice echoing. "Today we gather to test your progress. Each of you will show your cultivation. Strength is everything in this world, and those who do not rise will fall."
The disciples cheered. Excitement buzzed through the courtyard.
One by one, disciples were called forward. Some showed new techniques, others displayed their strength by striking stones or releasing waves of aura. The elders nodded and made comments, rewarding some, scolding others.
Kael stood quietly, watching, listening. He felt no jealousy, only patience.
Finally, the head elder's gaze turned toward him. "Kael," he said, his tone cold. "Step forward."
A ripple of laughter ran through the crowd.
Kael's body trembled, but he walked forward, every step heavy. He reached the open space in the center, where all eyes now fell upon him.
The head elder sneered. "Kael, once you were given a place among us. Once you had a chance. And yet here you stand — crippled, weak, useless. Tell me, what can you show us today?"
Before Kael could speak, a clear voice rang out.
"Nothing, Elder."
It was Lira. She had stepped forward, her hands folded neatly in front of her, her beautiful face calm. But her words were sharp.
"He is a cripple," she said. "Even asking him to stand here is an insult to the sect. He has no cultivation, no strength. Keeping him among us only lowers our name."
The disciples burst into laughter. Some clapped, some shouted insults.
"Trash!"
"Why is he even here?"
"Throw him out!"
Kael's fists tightened. His nails dug into his palms, drawing blood. His face remained still, but inside him, a storm raged.
Lira's eyes met his. They were full of cold pity, as if she were looking at something beneath her. "Leave, Kael," she said, her voice like silk. "You do not belong here. A cripple cannot walk the same path as us. Accept it."
Her words were like knives, cutting deep. The disciples laughed louder, pointing at him. Even some elders smiled cruelly.
Kael bowed his head. To them, it seemed like shame. But in truth, he bowed to hide the fire in his eyes. He was no prey. Not anymore. He had already tasted fragments of his old power. He had already planted commands in weak minds. His rise had begun.
In silence, he turned and walked back to his place at the edge of the crowd. His body trembled, but not from weakness — from fury.
The gathering continued, but Kael heard nothing. His mind replayed Lira's words again and again. Her cold tone. Her beauty shining above him, mocking him. The laughter of the sect.
That night, when the moon hung over the sect and silence filled the halls, Kael sat alone in his tiny room. The air was heavy with his rage. His eyes glowed faintly in the dark.
"Saintess Lira," he whispered. "You dare mock me before all? You dare step on my pride? Very well. I swear, by my soul and by the curse I carry — I will take you. I will corrupt your body, your soul, your heart. I will make you kneel before me. You will scream my name in pleasure and in despair. You will belong to me."
His voice was soft, but his words carried the weight of fate.
The whispers of Soul Dominion stirred within him, like a dark flame. His crippled body still trembled with weakness, but his spirit grew sharper, stronger. The humiliation of this day was carved deep inside him, feeding his hunger.
Kael closed his eyes and smiled — a cold, dangerous smile.
"The sect laughs now," he murmured. "But soon, they will kneel. And you, Lira… you will be the first."