Silence hung over the wide streets, heavy and suffocating, broken only by the rhythmic clatter of hooves and the wet, grinding noise of something being dragged across the cobblestones.
Jiang Dao sat high atop his massive steed, a figure of imposing stillness amidst the chaos he commanded. Behind him, a cavalcade of Blazing Flame Gang members marched with grim purpose, heading toward the homes of their fallen brethren. Trailing the procession were two long, heavy iron chains. At the end of these chains, pierced through the collarbones and dragged like a sack of refuse, was a figure so steeped in blood he hardly resembled a man.
The captive's clothes were shredded tatters, revealing skin that wept blood from every pore. He had been dyed crimson by his own agony. As his body scraped against the rough stone of the road, he let out a continuous, high-pitched wail—a sound akin to a pig being slaughtered that pierced the oppressive quiet of the town and drew the terrified gazes of onlookers peering through cracked shutters.
Jiang Dao ignored the wailing. His lieutenants, Du Feng and Chen Ming, broke off from the main group to hammer on the doors of the deceased.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
For a long time, there was only silence. Then, after a dozen attempts, a door creaked open.
Chen Ming's eyes lit up at the sight of the living. He stepped forward briskly. "You are Tiger Zhang's father, are you not?"
The old man trembling in the doorway wore ragged green robes, his eyes clouded with age and cataracts. His hair and beard were a mottled white mess. Clinging desperately to his leg was a boy no older than seven, his eyes wide with a terror he couldn't fully comprehend.
"Tiger Zhang died for the gang," Chen Ming stated, his voice practiced but not unkind. "Our Gang Leader has come specifically to ensure your safety. How many are in your household? Gather them. You are coming with us. Additionally, here are two thousand taels of silver—a pension directly from the Gang Leader."
He pressed a crisp banknote into the old man's shaking hands.
The old man stared at the money, then at the gang members. The reality of the words finally pierced his haze. "My son... my son is truly..."
His voice broke. Tears carved paths through the grime on his face as he wept openly, his shoulders heaving. The boy buried his face in the old man's thigh, sensing the grief.
"Father Zhang, please," Chen Ming sighed, his patience wearing thin, but his tone soft. "Rest assured, the Blazing Flame Gang honors its own. We will not treat you or your grandson unfairly. But we must leave. Now."
"Let... let this old man pack a few things," the grandfather stammered, wiping his eyes with a trembling sleeve.
"No packing," Chen Ming insisted. "Just bring yourselves. The Gang has everything you need."
"Alright... alright," the old man quavered. "To be honest, my lord... There is no one else. Just my grandson and I are left alive in this house."
From his vantage point on the horse, Jiang Dao watched the exchange without a flicker of emotion. He merely flicked the reins, signaling the procession to move forward. As they advanced, his gaze prowled the streets, scanning the darkened alleys and rooftops in every direction.
The wailing of the man dragged behind him—the broken cultivator known as Daoist Black Crow—served as a grisly dinner bell for the entities hiding in the shadows.
As the procession moved deeper into the town, Jiang Dao felt them. Invisible lines of sight shot out from the gloom, sweeping over the convoy. When these hidden observers noticed the bloodied mess of Daoist Black Crow, with his shattered shoulder blades and missing jaw, the atmosphere in the shadows shifted perceptibly.
"That's Daoist Black Crow..." a whisper drifted on the wind.
"Captured? Him? Look at his pipa bones—pierced through. His jaw is gone. What kind of misery is this?"
"The Blazing Flame Gang Leader... is he a monster in human skin?"
"He doesn't feel like a monster. There's no fluctuation of Yin energy. No spiritual power. Just... brute force?"
"Impossible."
Shock rippled through the hidden observers. Yet, not everyone was cowed. There were true predators in the dark—ruthless entities with eyes as cold as the grave. They watched Jiang Dao like tigers stalking a deer, their gazes heavy with malice, twisting the very air around them.
Jiang Dao felt the pressure. His eyes narrowed, turning icy. He turned in his saddle, his gaze condensing into a physical weight of killing intent. He met those invisible stares one by one, a challenge issued in silence.
Look at me, his eyes seemed to say. And see your end.
After a long moment, he turned back and continued to ride as if nothing had happened.
Deep in a shadowy alley, a voice echoed, dripping with disdain. "Arrogant. Truly arrogant. To possess such a domineering gaze... he puts no one in his eyes. I didn't expect a backwater like the Great Ye Dynasty to produce such a character. Perhaps the demon slave we left behind was indeed killed by him."
"Enough," a second voice hissed, colder than the first. "Do not create unnecessary complications. Everything hinges on the Sacred Artifact. The energy signatures suggest it is an Earth-grade artifact. That is all that matters. Ignore the rest."
"Hehe. It is rare to meet such a character. Being provoked like this isn't my nature to ignore," the first voice sneered.
"I said enough! We return. Now."
"Fine..."
"Let's go. The South Mausoleum King intends to ally with us. Only by joining forces can we hope to contend with the Thirteen Corpse Demon Mountains. They are the true local tyrants here; my Combined Demon Palace is merely an outsider. If you want the artifact, you must endure."
A gust of sinister wind swept through the alley, and the two presences vanished.
Elsewhere, the atmosphere was even more macabre.
In a secluded, overgrown sector of the town stood a gloomy manor. The front gate was desolate, battered by howling winds. A man in bright yellow robes sprinted toward it, skidding to a halt before the massive doors. He straightened his attire, took a deep breath to compose his terror, and knocked.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The heavy doors groaned open. A blast of frigid air rushed out, carrying the scent of decay.
The man stepped into the courtyard, bowing deeply as he walked. He passed through several intricate gardens until he reached the inner sanctum. There, the horror of the town was laid bare.
Four figures sat in the courtyard. They were massive, hulking shapes covered in bone-like scales, emitting a stench that made the eyes water. They looked like corpses that had refused to rot, evolved into something far more lethal.
They were feasting.
In their hands were chunks of crimson, raw meat. They tore into the unidentified flesh with mouths that split too wide, crunching through bone and gristle with wet, snapping sounds. These were the terrors of the Thirteen Corpse Demon Mountains.
"What is it?" one of the scaled figures growled. The voice was low and bestial, vibrating with a power that chilled the soul.
"Reporting to my lords," the man in yellow stammered, keeping his head low. "I saw the Blazing Flame Gang Leader, Jiang Dao. He... he has appeared here."
The chewing stopped. Four pairs of terrifying eyes locked onto the messenger.
"Where are Ah Da and Ah Er?" one asked.
"Unknown. We cannot contact them. The royal disciples with them have also vanished. Subordinate worries... they may have been killed."
"Killed?" Another figure narrowed his eyes. He held a piece of dripping meat in his clawed hand. After a tense silence, he snorted and took another bite. Snap. Crunch. "Understood."
The tension broke as the monsters resumed their meal.
The messenger blinked, confused. "My lords... are we not going to pursue this?"
"What is the rush?" the creature mumbled through a mouthful of blood and bone. "A tiny Blazing Flame Gang. The monk can run, but the temple remains. Once we deal with the Combined Demon Palace and seize the Sacred Artifact, we will settle accounts. He cannot escape. On the turf of the Thirteen Corpse Demon Mountains, nothing escapes."
"My lords, regarding the Sacred Artifact... do we have a time?"
"Soon."
Jiang Dao spent the entire day sweeping the town. By evening, the crowd trailing behind him had swelled to hundreds. They were a ragged, fearful bunch—families of gang members, relatives, anyone with a connection to the Blazing Flame Gang, desperate for protection.
Jiang Dao looked at them, and his brow furrowed.
They were mortals. In the face of the supernatural catastrophe brewing in Black Mountain Town, they were as fragile as soap bubbles. Staying here meant death.
"Guo Dutian," Jiang Dao commanded as they reached the branch headquarters. "Tomorrow morning, we evacuate. You are responsible for escorting everyone out of Black Mountain Town."
"Yes, Gang Leader!"
As the lieutenants scrambled to arrange logistics, a gang member rushed up to Jiang Dao, holding a sealed envelope. "Gang Leader! A letter. Urgent. For your eyes only."
Jiang Dao snatched the letter. The wax seal was unfamiliar. He tore it open.
It was an invitation to a dinner banquet. The topic: An alliance to seize the Sacred Artifact.
The signature: The Great Yu's South Mausoleum King.
Jiang Dao frowned. He had never heard of this king. Why invite a local gang leader? Was his display of strength earlier that impressive?
"Where is the messenger?" Jiang Dao asked.
"Outside, sir."
"Bring him in."
Moments later, a tall, gaunt elder in black robes entered. Despite his skeletal frame, Jiang Dao's sharp eyes noted the dense, corded muscle hiding beneath the fabric.
"This old man pays respects to the Blazing Flame Gang Leader."
"Who are you? Why the invitation?" Jiang Dao cut to the chase.
The old man smiled, a practiced expression. "The Gang Leader's strength is unfathomable. My Lord appreciates talent and wishes to form a connection. The Sacred Artifact is about to emerge, throwing all factions into chaos. An expert like yourself has a high chance of seizing it. Are you not tempted?"
"You know the location and time?"
"We are eighty percent certain."
Jiang Dao scoffed. "And if we ally? Who keeps the artifact? You? Or me?"
"My South Mausoleum King's Manor will provide reasonable compensation. Why not meet the Prince? You might find our terms agreeable."
Jiang Dao paused. The invitation was suspicious, but the information was valuable. The Destiny Sacred Artifacts hidden in Black Mountain Ridge were powerful enough to make Royal Families go mad. If he ignored this, he would be flying blind.
"Fine," Jiang Dao said, rubbing the letter between his fingers until it disintegrated into dust. "But I have no time tonight. I will visit your Prince tomorrow at noon."
The old man blinked, surprised by the deferral, but quickly recovered. "Tomorrow at noon? Very well. I shall relay the message."
He bowed and left.
Jiang Dao had no intention of going out tonight. The town was crawling with monsters who would love nothing more than to ambush his base while he was away. He would secure his people first.
The rejection did not sit well with everyone.
In a lavish hall elsewhere in town, the "South Mausoleum King"—a burly man in purple robes—sat amidst a scene of debauchery. Experts from the Combined Demon Palace drank and fondled women, celebrating prematurely.
When the messenger relayed Jiang Dao's response, the King merely nodded. "Tomorrow, then."
"The King is too kind," a man from the Combined Demon Palace sneered. He was one of the shadows Jiang Dao had stared down earlier. "Rejected by a mortal gangster, and you accept it? If it were us, we would seek revenge for the slight. Should I test him? I hear he has gathered a lot of 'blood food'—civilians. Perfect for feeding the Artifact."
"No," the King said, his voice flat. "The Artifact is the priority. Do not complicate things. There is plenty of blood food in the town. Leave him be."
"A pity," the man murmured, eyes glinting with malice.
Night fell, but Jiang Dao did not sleep.
In the solitude of his room, he was engaged in a war. He sat cross-legged, his internal energy surging like a tidal wave, crushing down on the Blood Demon Armor he possessed.
The evil spirit trapped within the armor had been screaming for days. Its voice was now hoarse, a pathetic rasp as it cowered in the corner of Jiang Dao's consciousness.
"You monster! You thief!" it shrieked.
Jiang Dao ignored it, ruthlessly extracting the armor's Yin energy source. He channeled this dark, frigid power into his own body. His flesh, his bones, his very meridians were being torn apart and knitted back together, tempered by the stolen energy.
In his mind, ancient principles collided. The Extreme Dao Heavenly Demon Body began to mutate. It fused with the knowledge he had ripped from the Blood Demon Armor, the Heavenly Demon Evil Heart Art, and the Heavenly Demon Poison Sand Palm.
It was an alchemy of violence.
Finally, as dawn broke, the transformation settled. A new notification flashed in his mind's eye.
[Extreme Demon Overlord Body]
It was a completely new martial art. A top-tier body-tempering divine skill born from the fusion of demon and man.
Jiang Dao exhaled. A wave of visible heat blasted from his nostrils, scorching the air. He looked at his internal interface.
Modify.
He focused his will. The interface blurred.
Swish!
The text behind the new skill skyrocketed. His body became a furnace. An unimaginable power bred within his marrow, vast and terrifying, erupting silently like a volcano under the ocean.
Two hours later.
Creeaaaak.
The door to his room opened slowly.
Jiang Dao stepped out into the morning light. He had changed into a clean black robe, a bear-fur coat draped over his broad shoulders. To the naked eye, he looked unchanged—calm, composed, human. But the air around him seemed heavier, denser.
"Gang Leader, everything is ready," Guo Dutian reported, stepping forward.
The courtyard was packed. Carriages were loaded, horses saddled. The families looked at Jiang Dao with a mix of fear and desperate hope.
"Mm. Move out," Jiang Dao ordered. His voice was deep, resonating in their chests like a temple bell.
He mounted his horse and led the way.
As the massive convoy rumbled out of the stronghold and toward the town gates, the hidden eyes of Black Mountain Town watched in confusion.
"Why is he taking the blood food?"
"Is he fleeing? Taking his snacks with him?"
On a street corner, a young woman named Zhao Ziling watched the dust settle. "He's leaving? Just as the Artifact is about to appear?"
Beside her, Xu Zifeng frowned, shaking a handful of copper coins in his hands. "The Sacred Artifact is imminent... strange. But Ziling, I will say it again: That man is dangerous. Stay away from him."
"I know, I know," she sighed, watching Jiang Dao's back disappear. "Just tell me when the Teacher arrives."