At the edge of Black Mountain Town, the air was thick, suffocating, and tasted of sulfur.
Jiang Dao urged his steed forward, the hooves thundering against the packed earth as he led his convoy in a desperate sprint. They didn't slow down until they had put three or four miles between themselves and the encroaching wall of black fog. Only when the air cleared and the oppressive weight lifted did Jiang Dao pull back on the reins.
His gaze was electric, scanning the horizon with the precision of a predator. The immediate vicinity was clear.
"Guo Dutian, Du Feng," Jiang Dao's voice was a low rumble, devoid of panic. "I'm leaving the rest to you. Get them back to headquarters. Make sure they are settled and safe."
"Understood, Gang Leader!" The two subordinates clasped their fists, their faces grim but determined.
Jiang Dao didn't waste time with farewells. He wheeled his horse around and galloped straight back into the jaws of the nightmare he had just escaped.
He hadn't gone far past a fork in the road when a sudden chill pricked the back of his neck. He frowned, pulling his horse to a halt. On the adjacent path, a procession emerged from the mist, an image so jarringly beautiful it made his skin crawl.
It was a troupe of women dressed in crimson. They were ethereal, their movements fluid and graceful, with cascading black hair and faces that possessed a flawless, uncanny perfection. Their red dresses were scandalously short, barely covering their hips, and as the mountain breeze played with the fabric, it revealed flashes of pale, marble-white skin.
Floating in their midst was a red sedan chair, carried effortlessly. The gauze curtains fluttered, teasing the silhouette of the figure seated within. Waves of heavy, necrotic Yin energy pulsed from the chair, distorting the air around it.
Jiang Dao narrowed his eyes.
Not human.
It didn't take a master cultivator to see it. The Yin energy clinging to them was too dense, their forms too unstable. To walk openly in broad daylight meant they were either Fierce Monsters or top-tier Evil Spirits. He cast a cold, disinterested glance at the spectral parade and spurred his horse forward, plunging back toward the black fog.
The women noticed him. Heads turned in unison, smiles stretching slightly too wide.
"Hehehe..."
The laughter drifted from the sedan chair, light and tinkering, like wind chimes made of bone. Through the sheer curtains, the occupant was visible. It wasn't a person.
It was a white fox, sitting upright like a human, wearing a small, embroidered red jacket.
Its eyes were narrowed into crescents of mirth, glowing with a piercing green light that bored into Jiang Dao's retreating. It licked its chops, the motion distinctly animalistic despite the human posture.
"Such a strong human..." The voice was delicate, feminine, and utterly wrong coming from the beast's throat. "I wonder how he tastes..."
BOOM!
The moment Jiang Dao crossed the boundary back into Black Mountain Town, the world seemed to crack open.
A terrifying roar echoed from the earth itself, a sound like mountains collapsing and tectonic plates grinding together. The entire town shuddered violently. In that instant, every monster, spirit, and aberration lurking in the shadows was startled into motion.
Figures darted across rooftops and through alleyways, all eyes turning toward the looming silhouette of the distant mountain range.
"It's happening again? That sound?"
"It's coming from the mountain. The Sacred Artifact is emerging."
Whispers of greed and fear rippled through the supernatural community. But Jiang Dao stood firm, his eyes condensing into dangerous slits as he scanned the chaos.
Black Mountain Town sat in the shadow of the Black Mountain Ridge, a place where multiple trails snaked into the deep wilderness. Now, low, rhythmic rumbles rolled in from all directions, echoing through the streets like thunder trapped in a canyon.
Suddenly, the horizon ignited.
Rumble!
Waves of dense, blood-colored light erupted from the ridge, painting the sky in hues of violence. It looked less like a sunrise and more like a volcanic eruption of gore. The crimson light swept across the peaks, shattering stone and causing landslides that sent boulders raining down upon the town below.
Bang! Bang!
Rocks pulverized buildings, sending dust and debris choking into the air.
From the mountain paths, Spirit Removers—hunters of the supernatural who were often monsters themselves—came fleeing down the slopes. Their faces were twisted masks of true terror.
"Catastrophe! It's a catastrophe up there!"
"It's not a Sacred Artifact! It's a Destiny Artifact! A Destiny Divine Artifact has appeared!"
The scream tore through the noise, silencing the lesser commotion.
A Destiny Divine Artifact?
The faces of the entities at the foot of the mountain went slack with shock. That kind of power was the stuff of legends, something that shouldn't exist in this backwater hellhole.
DONG!
A bell-like toll resonated from the depths of the mountain, heavier and more terrifying than before. The endless blood light swirled and coalesced, projecting a blurry, titanic image into the high heavens.
It was a hand.
A massive, grotesque hand, spanning dozens of meters, hovered in the blood-red sky. It was a landscape of knotted muscle and throbbing blue veins that looked like pythons writhing beneath the skin. It hung there, exuding an aura of ancient, crushing terror, before fading away like a mirage, dissolving back into the crimson mist.
Chaos erupted in the town below.
"The aura of a Destiny Artifact... It's real!"
"How is this possible?"
Crash!
Ahhh!
Nearby, Jiang Dao watched a wall shatter. A Spirit Remover, eyes wild with bloodlust, broke into a civilian home. There was no hesitation. He slaughtered the mortals inside with efficient brutality.
As the victims fell, streams of scarlet blood lifted from their corpses, defying gravity. The liquid coalesced into fist-sized spheres, floating obediently into the Spirit Remover's palm.
Jiang Dao's eyes went cold.
He looked around and saw the pattern repeating. The remaining Spirit Removers and Fierce Monsters weren't fleeing anymore; they were hunting. They tore through the town, harvesting mortals, collecting these spheres of blood. Many had clearly been preparing for this, carrying bags already heavy with the grim harvest as they sprinted toward the mountain.
"Blood Sacrifice..." Jiang Dao's voice dropped to a freezing whisper. "These damn things are fueling the artifact with blood."
He had guessed right. Places where great power emerged were always paved with corpses. He was just glad he had evacuated his own men in time.
Whoosh!
Jiang Dao launched himself into the air, vanishing from his spot like a phantom.
Beneath the ruins of the East Mountain Academy, in a cold, damp cellar, a hundred souls held their breath.
They were students, ranging from terrified eleven-year-olds to teenagers on the cusp of adulthood. For eight days, they had huddled in the dark, listening to the screams from above. They had heard the weeping of women, the shrill cries of things that sounded like ghosts, and the heavy tread of monsters.
They were starving. The grain was gone. The radishes were gone.
"Teacher... I'm scared," a young boy whispered, his eyes red and swollen. "I'm so scared."
The teacher, Niu Xianru, was a man of fifty, a former scholar who had returned to his hometown to teach. He looked at the child, helpless. He had no words of comfort left, only the crushing weight of despair.
Step. Step. Step.
Footsteps. Not the chaotic running of the streets, but slow, deliberate, heavy steps. They stopped right above the cellar door.
"Hehehe..."
The laughter seeped through the cracks in the stone. "Still playing hide and seek? I let you marinate down there for a long time. Now, it's time to pay me back."
BOOM!
The stone slab covering the entrance was ripped away as if it were cardboard. Light flooded in, blinding the students, followed by the silhouette of a nightmare.
A withered, desiccated figure stood silhouetted against the sky. He looked like a dried corpse given life. He peered down at the huddle of nearly one hundred students, his eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. A long, scarlet tongue snaked out to lick his lips.
"Die, all of you. Don't worry, I'll make it quick. Just pray from the afterlife that the Destiny Artifact chooses me!"
He raised a finger, energy gathering at the tip, ready to slaughter them like cattle.
BANG!
A new sound. Heavy boots hitting the earth.
The withered man froze. Someone had landed directly behind him. He frowned, his neck creaking as he turned his head.
Towering over him was a man draped in a massive brown-gray bearskin coat. The stranger's face was a mask of indifference, his build impossibly broad.
"The Flame Gang Leader?" The withered creature's pupils constricted. He recognized the threat. "What are you doing? Are you here to fight me for this blood food?"
"Yes," Jiang Dao said. His voice was flat, calm, and terrifying. "I want it all."
The creature cackled, a dry, rasping sound. "Hehe, Gang Leader Jiang, didn't you already take your share? Why fight me for scraps? Are you trying to bully a humble monster?"
"Hm?" Jiang Dao's eyes flashed with a cold light.
BOOM!
There was no preamble. Jiang Dao simply ceased to exist in the location where he was standing. The air exploded with the force of his movement.
In the courtyard, dead leaves swirled in a vortex of scorching heat. The sudden temperature rise burned away the cloying Yin energy, replacing the chill of death with the fire of violence.
The withered figure lay on the ground. His chest was caved in, a crater of broken ribs and pulverized organs. His arms were shattered, bones protruding through dry skin. Blood gushed from his eyes, ears, and nose.
"Gang... Gang Leader..." he gurgled, blood bubbling in his throat. "I... I lost... The food... is yours... Spare... Spare me..."
Jiang Dao looked down at the broken thing. His expression didn't change. He lifted his heavy boot and brought it down on the creature's head.
Splurt!
It was the wet, crunchy sound of a watermelon being stomped on. The head exploded, brain matter and bone fragments scattering across the burning leaves. The headless body spasmed violently, hands clawing at the dirt, before finally going still.
Jiang Dao turned to the open cellar.
The students stared up at him, paralyzed. This savior was as terrifying as the monster he had just killed. Some began to scream.
"Get out," Jiang Dao commanded.
The old teacher, trembling so hard he could barely stand, climbed out first. He dropped to his knees, pressing his forehead into the dirt. "This old man, Niu Xianru, greets the warrior! Please, spare us!"
Jiang Dao looked at them—weeping, broken, terrified. He turned his back.
"If you don't want to die, follow me."
The streets were a slaughterhouse. Spirit Removers and monsters roamed freely, but Jiang Dao walked with a heavy, rhythmic stride, his bearskin coat flapping in the cold wind.
The students huddled behind him, a flock of sheep trailing a wolf. They were too scared to speak, too scared to cry.
Jiang Dao's mind was a dark churn of thoughts. Born as humans, yet they refuse to act like it, he thought, eyeing the carnage. They think themselves high and mighty predators, but in the eyes of the real monsters, they are just walking meals. Why are they so eager to die?
He stopped.
Down a narrow alleyway, three Spirit Removers were lurking. Their eyes locked onto the group of students, hungry and predatory. When they saw Jiang Dao, they relaxed, assuming he was one of them.
The leader chuckled, stepping forward with clasped fists to make a joke.
"What are you laughing at?" Jiang Dao asked.
"I—"
Smack!
Jiang Dao moved faster than thought. His hand connected with the man's face. The force was so violent it didn't just slap him; it spun him like a top. The man rotated in a blur before his neck snapped and his head exploded from the centrifugal force.
"Brother!"
"Boss!"
The other two froze in horror. "Flame Gang Leader, you—"
Jiang Dao reached out. His hands, large as shovels, grabbed the two men by their heads. He brought them together with a sickening crunch. Skulls collapsed, and the two bodies dropped like sacks of grain.
"If you don't want to be human, then go be ghosts," Jiang Dao muttered, wiping his hands. "Assuming you even qualify."
He kept walking until he reached the spot where he had left his horse.
It was gone. In its place was a pile of flayed meat and bone, drained of every drop of blood.
Jiang Dao crouched, his hand brushing the bloody mane that still clung to a strip of hide. The wind howled. The mountain rumbled. The students behind him held their breath, terrified that this loss would be the thing that made him snap.
Jiang Dao stood up slowly.
Down the street, a new group approached. A middle-aged man in purple silk robes walked with the confidence of royalty, flanked by powerful Spirit Removers and three tall, pale figures in black robes—experts from the Heyao Palace.
"Flame Gang Leader?" One of the pale figures recognized him. His eyes burned with a challenge he had suppressed the day before.
"Oh? This is the famous Gang Leader?" The man in purple smiled charmingly. "You kept your promise."
Jiang Dao recognized the burly old man beside the noble. "Nanling King?"
"In the flesh," the King replied. "Are you ready to cooperate? Help me seize the Destiny Artifact, and name your price."
"Cooperation..." Jiang Dao mused. "And the benefits?"
"You dare ask for benefits?" The Heyao expert laughed, a grating, high-pitched sound. He licked his lips, eyeing the students. "You found us all this blood food. Hand them over, and we might let you leave alive."
The students whimpered, shrinking back.
"Strange," Jiang Dao said, picking at his ear. "I hear flies buzzing."
The pale creature hissed. "You think you're tough? Did you see what happened to your horse? I drank it dry. What are you going to do?"
The Nanling King stepped in, sensing the volatile atmosphere. "Gentlemen, peace! We are allies here. We need the blood food to approach the artifact, Jiang Dao. I have my own supply prepared, but more is better."
Jiang Dao stared at the Heyao expert for a long moment, then smiled—a cold, humorless expression.
"The King is right. I'll join you." He gestured down the road. "After you."
The King beamed, relieved, and led his entourage toward the mountain. The Heyao experts cast lingering, hungry looks at the students but followed their master.
Jiang Dao waited until they were gone, then turned to the trembling group. "Move."
He led them to the edge of town, where the fog had mysteriously lifted, revealing the road to safety.
"This is as far as I go," Jiang Dao said, his back to them. "Live or die, it's up to you now."
The old teacher wept openly, bowing low. "Warrior, your name? How can we repay—"
"Get lost!" Jiang Dao roared.
They fled.
Jiang Dao stood alone at the edge of the nightmare. He turned back toward Black Mountain Town.
His body began to spasm.
It wasn't a seizure; it was an evolution. His muscles swelled, ripping through the fabric of his clothes until they hung in tatters. His bones popped and cracked, realigning, thickening. From his back, jagged bone spikes tore through his skin with wet, tearing sounds.
And then, the pièce de résistance.
A sickening crack echoed from his tailbone as a meter-long skeletal tail, covered in razor-sharp barbs, drilled its way out of his flesh. It whipped the air behind him, heavy and lethal.
Waves of toxic heat rolled off him, scorching the earth beneath his feet.
"Since none of you want to be human," Jiang Dao growled, his voice deepening into something monstrous, "I'll make sure you all die like ghosts."
He looked toward the mountain.
"That artifact is mine."