In the heart of Qianyuan City, the air inside the private chambers of the Flame Gang was thick with a silence that felt heavier than stone. Jiang Dao had returned.
He had dismissed his Right Guardian, Xiang An, (with a casual wave of his hand after listening to the routine reports. The affairs of the gang were trivialities to him, necessary distractions at best. Even Han Ming, a man Jiang Dao kept close, was given no tasks, no purpose. To Jiang Dao, Han Ming was not a subordinate; he was livestock. He was a reserve of calories and vital energy, a walking ration waiting for the day Jiang Dao felt the pang of hunger or the whim to extinguish him.
Alone in the dim flickering light of his room, Jiang Dao sat cross-legged, his attention consumed by the object in his lap: the Heavenly Demon Heart-Crushing Claw.
It was a skeletal artifact, cold to the touch and radiating an ancient malevolence. Jiang Dao had spent hours probing it, pushing his internal energy against its calcium surface until he discovered a mechanism that defied the laws of conventional martial arts.
Whenever he compressed his Inner Qi and forced it into the claw, the artifact retaliated. It surged with a dense, terrifying Yin Qi—an energy so cold it felt like liquid nitrogen pumping directly into his veins. It was a sensation akin to a steel rasp scraping against his bones, a biting frost that sought to freeze his marrow. Even with his physique, tempered to near-indestructibility, waves of phantom pain washed over him.
But the pain was merely the cost of entry.
As the agony subsided, Jiang Dao realized that his body was reacting instinctively. His own scorching internal energy swarmed the invading cold, breaking it down, digesting it, and refining it. With every cycle of freezing pain and fiery consumption, his flesh grew denser, his muscles more explosive.
The Heavenly Demon Heart-Crushing Claw was not just a weapon; it was a whetstone.
"Excellent," Jiang Dao murmured, his eyes reflecting the dull luster of the bone in his hand. "My Extreme Heavenly Demon Body had hit a ceiling. The martial arts of the mortal world are useless to me now, mere child's play. But this… this can hammer me into something else entirely."
The question of whether this artifact might twist him into a monstrosity never crossed his mind. Or rather, it did, and he discarded it immediately. What was humanity compared to survival? As long as his mind remained his own, the shape of his vessel was irrelevant.
While Jiang Dao cultivated in the dark, the world outside was burning.
The Flame Gang had been acting with the voracity of a starving wolf. In mere days, they had annexed vast swathes of territory belonging to the rival Black Tiger Gang. The streets ran red as Hall Masters and Helm Masters of the Black Tiger faction capitulated, bowing their heads to the Flame Gang's banner. More than sixty percent had surrendered; the rest held on only by the thinnest thread of hope.
And then, that thread was pulled taut by an iron hand.
The rumors started as whispers and ended as screams: The Anyang Xie Family had arrived in Sifang City.
They were an ancient power, a "non-human" faction that viewed ordinary martial artists as insects. Their arrival was like a thunderclap. Overnight, the scattered remnants of the Black Tiger Gang rallied. Men who had been trembling in fear of the Flame Gang suddenly found their spines, weeping tears of joy as they flocked to the Xie Family's encampment.
The Xie Family did not disappoint. Their experts swept through Sifang City with efficient brutality, stabilizing the chaos and purging anyone loyal to the Flame Gang. The tide turned violently. Traitors who had jumped ship to the Flame Gang scrambled back to their old masters, begging for forgiveness, while Jiang Dao's loyalists faced a systematic slaughter.
In a spacious, shadow-drenched hall within Sifang City, a candle flickered against the oppressive atmosphere. A massive round table dominated the room, seated by representatives of three terrifying powers.
To the left sat the Anyang Xie Family, radiating an aura of aristocratic cruelty. To the right sat the Spirit Remover Tuoba Family, their eyes sharp and calculating. And completing the triangle was the Corpse Dao Sect, a group whose members looked less like men and more like desiccated cadavers, their skin clinging tightly to their skulls, void of any warmth or vitality.
In the center of the table sat a grotesque centerpiece: a severed head. It was twisted, oozing pus and black blood, pulsating with residual poison. It was all that remained of the Palace Master of the Spirit Child Palace.
"To think," the representative of the Anyang Xie Family mused, his eyes narrowing, "that the illustrious Palace Master, wielding a Sacred Artifact, could be butchered like a common animal."
The representative of the Corpse Dao Sect leaned forward, his voice sounding like two grinding stones. "There is no residual spiritual fluctuation on the flesh. A Spirit Remover did not kill him."
"Precisely why I called you here," said Tuoba Guang of the Tuoba Family. "No spiritual energy. No Yin energy. This was not the work of a Spirit Remover, nor was it a Fierce Monster or an Evil Spirit. So, what killed him?"
A heavy silence fell over the table. The implication was impossible.
"It cannot be a mortal," the Corpse Dao Sect leader rasped. "Mortals have limits. Someone must have masked their energy signature."
"The Nanzhou region is teeming with ox ghosts and snake spirits lately," the Xie representative grumbled. "An anomaly is not unexpected."
Tuoba Guang tapped the table. "Regardless of what did this, the entity capable of killing a Sacred Artifact wielder can certainly kill any of us. We need an alliance."
The terms were quickly struck. They would unite to secure the coming Sacred Artifact and purge the region of competitors. Once the prize was secured, the alliance would dissolve, and chaos would resume. It was a pact of wolves.
"Then it is settled," the Xie representative said, a cold smile touching his lips. "We cleanse Nanzhou. We start by exterminating the vermin. And that Flame Gang… is the most problematic vermin of all."
Tuoba Guang nodded slowly. "I have investigated the deaths of my kin. All roads lead to the Flame Gang. The leader… he is not human. He is a monster masquerading as a man."
"A monster who killed Xie Xuan and ruined ten years of my family's planning," the Xie leader hissed, his composure cracking to reveal pure venom. "I will handle the Flame Gang Leader personally. We will crush them, integrate their resources, and lock down the South."
Under the high, cold moon, the roads leading out of Sifang City were clogged with fear.
The remnants of the Flame Gang were in full retreat. They had abandoned their gold, their supplies, and their dignity. They knew what the Anyang Xie Family was. While common thugs might not understand, the high-level martial artists knew that facing the Xie Family was like fighting a natural disaster.
"Move! Do not stop!" bellowed Hall Master Guo Huaiyi from atop his sweating horse. "We reach Qianyuan City, or we die!"
They avoided the main roads, sticking to the dense mountain trails and heavy forests, hoping the shadows would hide them. But the shadows in this part of the world had teeth.
Deep in the heavy darkness of the tree line, a sound cut through the rhythm of galloping hooves.
Wah… Wah…
It was the crying of a child. High-pitched, mournful, and utterly wrong.
The fleeing gang members froze, goosebumps erupting on their skin. The temperature seemed to drop ten degrees in a second.
"What is that?" a Helm Master whispered, his voice trembling.
"Don't listen! Don't ask!" Guo Huaiyi screamed, panic edging his voice. "Ride! Ride now!"
They spurred their horses, hands clapping over their ears, but the sound was pervasive. It drilled into their skulls—a shrill, escalating wail that carried on the wind. The forest seemed to close in, the darkness becoming thick and viscous. It felt as though something vast was watching them from the canopy.
BOOM!
The underbrush exploded.
A massive figure launched itself from the grass. It was a dried, withered corpse, yet it moved with terrifying speed. It landed among them, its face twisted into a permanent, mocking grin. It opened its mouth, but instead of a roar, the sound that poured out was the same, ear-piercing infant's cry.
Wah… Wah…
"What is that thing?!"
"Run!"
Chaos consumed the night.
Two days later, inside Qianyuan City.
Jiang Dao sat in a meditative trance, his body shrouded in a layer of black light. For forty-eight hours, he had been a siphon, draining the Heavenly Demon Heart-Crushing Claw of its power.
The transformation was visceral. As the Yin Qi integrated with his biology, he felt the martial principles of the claw seeping into his mind. He didn't just absorb energy; he absorbed knowledge. He merged these insights with his Wind-Thunder Poison Sand Palm, twisting the technique into something far more sinister.
It was now the Heavenly Demon Poison Sand Palm.
Jiang Dao flexed his hands. Immediately, they swelled, the skin darkening as thick veins bulged like snakes beneath the surface. Coarse black hair sprouted along his forearms, and his fingernails elongated into jagged, obsidian daggers. He swiped a finger casually against a heavy iron sword resting nearby.
Shhhk.
The iron peeled away like soft butter, leaving a deep gouge.
Jiang Dao checked his internal interface.
Name: Jiang Dao
Strength: 23.5
Speed: 19.8
Spirit: 3.0
The mutation level of his body had jumped to 26%. He was becoming less human by the hour, a masterpiece of violence.
"Pity," Jiang Dao muttered, staring at the bone in his hand. "It's dry."
Initially, the claw had been a raging river of energy. Now, it was a dried-up creek. He squeezed it, probed it, but nothing came out. It was as if the entity inside had realized it was being farmed and had shut the gates.
"Hey," Jiang Dao said, tapping the bone. "Can you hear me?"
Silence. It was just a cold, dead object. Jiang Dao shrugged and tossed it into a drawer.
Inside the pocket dimension within the bone, the trapped Evil Spirit was screaming in incoherent rage.
"You wretched parasite! You sucked away sixty percent of my source essence in two days! Sixty percent! I'll kill you! I'll swallow your soul whole!"
The spirit was apoplectic. Its plan had been simple: flood the human with Yin Qi, corrupt his body, and turn him into a mindless puppet vessel. But Jiang Dao was an anomaly. His body devoured the corruption and asked for seconds. The spirit had poured more and more power in, trying to overwhelm him, only to realize too late that it was merely feeding the beast.
Outside the room, unaware of the silent tantrums of an ancient spirit, Jiang Dao stepped into the hallway.
The headquarters was in a frenzy. Men were running back and forth with grim expressions. Xiang An and Yan Wushuang, the top lieutenants, looked as though they hadn't slept in days.
"Xiang An," Jiang Dao called out. "Why the panic?"
Xiang An's face lit up with relief, then immediately darkened. "Helper! You're out. It's a disaster. Sifang City is lost. The Anyang Xie Family has seized everything. They are hunting us. Our branch halls are burning, and we've lost contact with everyone we sent."
"Two days ago?" Jiang Dao's voice dropped an octave. "And the men?"
"Likely dead. All of them."
Jiang Dao's expression didn't change, but the temperature in the room seemed to plummet. "They have a death wish."
"Report!"
A muddy, breathless scout skidded into the hall, dropping to his knees. "Helper! Hall Master Guo has returned! He's at the gates, covered in blood!"
Jiang Dao vanished.
He reappeared at the entrance of the main hall just as two men were dragging a body in. It was Guo Huaiyi, but barely. He was missing an arm, and his body was covered in patches of thick, black fur—the mark of spiritual corruption. He was unconscious, his face twisted in agony.
"Yin corruption," Jiang Dao noted coldly.
He grabbed Guo by the shoulder. He didn't use gentle healing arts; he used brute force. He channeled his Health Preservation Secret—a misnomer for an energy that burned like a furnace—and blasted it into Guo's system.
Boom.
Steam rose from Guo's body as the Yin Qi was incinerated. The black fur withered and fell off. The wounds cauterized. It was a violent, painful cure, but it worked. Guo gasped, his eyes flying open as he was ripped back from the brink of death.
Seeing Jiang Dao, Guo burst into tears. "Helper! Save me! It was a massacre! The Xie Family... the Tuoba clan... we tried to run, but the things in the woods... the Evil Spirits... everyone is dead!"
"Tuoba," Jiang Dao said, the name tasting like ash. "So they found out about the youths I killed."
He stood up, his shadow stretching long across the floor. "Let them come. It saves me the trouble of hunting them down."
"Report!" Another voice, another messenger. This one held a wooden canister marked with red paint. "Divine Fire Urgent Order from Qingyang Town!"
Jiang Dao crushed the wood in his grip and read the slip of paper.
Qingyang Town has fallen. Evil Spirits are slaughtering the populace. The branch helm is decimated.
Jiang Dao's hand closed, reducing the paper to dust. Qingyang was their stronghold, home to over a thousand of his men.
"Recall everyone," Jiang Dao commanded, his voice devoid of humanity. "Pull every brother back to the city. No one wanders alone."
"Yes, Helper!"
Jiang Dao turned his gaze toward the gate, toward the road that led to Qingyang. His muscles coiled, the monster beneath his skin itching to be let loose.
"I'm going to Qingyang," he said. "And I am going to kill everything that isn't us."