Chapter 1: Orphan of War
The night sky burned red the year Fei Tan's life was torn apart.
He was only seven, too young to understand the clash of titanic sects that had descended upon his homeland, but old enough to feel fear. The earth quaked beneath his bare feet as golden swords and black spears rained from the heavens, each strike tearing mountains as if they were paper.
He remembered clutching his mother's hand as she pulled him through the streets, his father ahead of them with a broken spear in hand. He remembered the heat of fire licking the walls, the screams of neighbors cut short, and the roar of cultivators bellowing their battle cries as heaven and earth split apart.
He never saw his parents again after that night.
When the sun rose, the once-proud city was nothing more than rubble and smoke. The blood of mortals mixed with that of cultivators, staining the earth a deep rust-red. Amidst the ruin, a handful of survivors were gathered by men in black robes.
One of them placed a hand on Fei Tan's shoulder. The boy flinched, but the man's voice was gentle, almost kind.
"Child… your parents have returned to the cycle. You will come with us now. The orphanage will shelter you."
Fei Tan was too numb to resist. Too hollow to question.
And so his new life began.
The orphanage was a cold place. The walls were high, the rooms damp, and food always scarce. The elders in their dark robes gave orders with smiles that never reached their eyes. The younger children wept themselves to sleep.
Fei Tan did not weep.
At first, he tried. But his tears dried quickly. Crying did not bring food. Crying did not stop the fists of the older boys. Crying did not bring back parents whose faces he struggled to remember more clearly with each passing year.
Instead, Fei Tan endured.
Every day was survival—fighting for scraps, stealing when he could, taking beatings in silence. His body grew thin, but his eyes remained sharp. Even when blood ran down his nose from another brawl, he would smirk and spit at the ground.
One boy, larger and older, once cornered him against the wall after stealing his bread. He sneered, "Why don't you cry, rat? That's what the others do."
Fei Tan had laughed, blood dripping from his split lip. "If Heaven wants me dead, it should try harder."
The older boy punched him again, but Fei Tan's grin never faded. That night, though bruised and starving, he felt something stir inside him—a tiny ember of defiance that refused to die.
Time passed, as it always did.
By the time Fei Tan turned fourteen, the truth began to surface.
It started with whispers. Children taken below the orphanage, never to return. Strange chanting at night, muffled through the floorboards. Shadows flickering where no torch burned.
Fei Tan was not a fool. He knew the world outside still reeled from war. Sects clashed endlessly, light and darkness tearing at each other's throats. But he never expected the war's shadow to reach so deeply into the place he slept.
On the eve of his fourteenth birthday, the elders gathered the orphans in the hall. Their smiles were wide, their voices warm.
"You have grown," one said, eyes glinting unnaturally. "The time has come for your true path to begin."
The children exchanged nervous glances. Some clutched each other's hands. Fei Tan merely frowned, his instincts screaming danger.
That night, the gates closed.
The truth revealed itself in blood and torment.
Beneath the orphanage lay chambers of stone and bone, carved with runes that pulsed a sickly red. The children were dragged below, one by one, and strapped to black altars.
There, the elders abandoned their masks of kindness. With needles of black steel, they pierced the children's bodies, injecting streams of demonic qi into their veins. Screams filled the underground halls, echoing until they blended into one endless wail.
When Fei Tan's turn came, he did not resist. Resistance would only make it worse. He lay bound to the cold stone as the first needle entered his arm.
Agony.
Black fire seared his meridians. His bones felt as if they would shatter, his flesh tearing from within. His vision blurred. The elders watched, nodding with satisfaction as his body convulsed.
"This one has strong roots," one murmured. "He will make a fine vessel."
Fei Tan bit his tongue until blood filled his mouth. His nails dug into stone. He wanted to scream, but instead he laughed, the sound cracked and wild.
"So this… this is what you've been feeding us for? To be meat for your rituals?"
The elder chuckled. "Foolish child. Be grateful. You will walk the path of power. Mortals live and die like insects. We grant you the chance to transcend."
Fei Tan spat blood in his face.
The torment continued for days. Children broke, one after another—some screaming until their throats tore, others falling silent forever.
Fei Tan endured. His body was weak, but his will was iron. Each needle carved new scars across his spirit, yet he clung stubbornly to life.
If Heaven has abandoned me, then I'll abandon Heaven first.
But fate, as always, was cruel.
On the third night of torment, the sky above the orphanage split open with a blinding light.
They came like thunder.
Swords of gold descended, tearing through the wards that cloaked the orphanage. Righteous cultivators, their robes gleaming white, filled the sky with their fury.
"The dark sect dares to hide in the shadows of the weak?!" a voice roared. "Cleanse them all!"
The halls erupted in chaos. Elders of the dark sect unleashed forbidden techniques, shadows rising to meet the light. The walls shook as spells collided, burning children and stone alike.
Fei Tan stumbled through the carnage, half-conscious, his veins still burning from forced demonic qi. He tripped over bodies, the stench of blood clogging his throat.
A sword shadow fell before him.
A righteous disciple stood there, face cold and unyielding. His blade gleamed with divine light.
Fei Tan raised his trembling hands, words forming on his cracked lips—but the sword pierced his chest before he could speak.
Pain blossomed. His vision dimmed. The disciple's voice echoed distantly:
"Demonic spawn deserves no mercy."
The last thing Fei Tan felt was the warmth of his own blood soaking his chest as his body was dragged with the corpses, tossed like refuse into the Forbidden Burial Grounds.
Rot. Silence. Shadows thicker than night.
Fei Tan should have died. His heart had been pierced. His body was broken. Yet as he lay upon the mountain of corpses, something stirred.
From the wound in his chest, black qi writhed like living serpents. The torment of the orphanage, the needles of demonic qi, the hatred in his heart—all fused into a single point of defiance.
His eyes snapped open.
Whispers filled the Burial Grounds—echoes of dead cultivators, resentful spirits bound by curses. Their voices crawled into his ears, seeping into his soul.
Instead of killing him, the poison in his veins twisted, devouring death itself.
Fei Tan coughed blood and laughed hoarsely, a sound that echoed in the graveyard of the forgotten.
"In death, I found life. If this is my Dao… then let Heaven tremble."
He rose from the corpses, eyes glowing faint red, the shadows of the Burial Grounds swirling into his body.
From that night onward, the orphan named Fei Tan ceased to exist.
What remained was a cultivator who would one day bring calamity to all who stood in his way.
End of Chapter 1 -
Chapter 2: Seeds of Darkness
The Forbidden Burial Grounds were silent.
Not the silence of peace, but of suffocation—where even the air seemed heavy with death. The soil was black, thick with the rot of corpses and resentful qi. Skeletal remains jutted from the ground like broken spears, while shattered weapons glimmered faintly beneath the shadows.
Fei Tan lay among them, blood crusted over the hole in his chest. His breathing was shallow, each rise and fall of his ribs a battle in itself. By all rights, he should have been dead. And yet, he lived.
His eyes opened slowly.
The first thing he saw was the sky above: a veil of gray clouds that never shifted, never parted, as if the heavens themselves had abandoned this place. The second was the corpses piled around him—men, women, cultivators, mortals, all tossed together in a pit without dignity. Their faces were twisted in agony, mouths frozen mid-scream.
Fei Tan stared at them for a long time, then touched his chest.
The sword wound was still there, but black veins spread out from it like roots. With each pulse of his heart, the veins shivered, absorbing the deathly qi that saturated the air. The wound did not close—it fed.
Fei Tan's lips curled into a bitter smile.
"So… even death refuses to claim me."
He pushed himself up, his arms trembling with weakness. His body felt like a stranger's—heavy, poisoned, broken. But deep within, a strange vitality surged, burning hotter with each breath he took of this cursed air.
It was as if his torment in the orphanage, the needles of demonic qi forced into his veins, had been preparation for this place. Every child who had screamed and died was gone, but their agony lingered, whispering.
And now, those whispers were in him.
The wind howled. Bones rattled. From the shadows between the corpses, something moved.
Fei Tan froze.
A figure dragged itself from the heap—a corpse that was not truly dead. Its eyes glowed faint green, its flesh half-rotted, its robes shredded. It had once been a cultivator, its dantian shattered, its soul trapped here by resentment.
A corpse beast.
It turned toward Fei Tan, jaw snapping. With a guttural shriek, it lunged.
Fei Tan staggered backward, heart pounding. His body was frail. He had no weapon, no strength. The beast's claws raked across his arm, tearing flesh. Pain exploded, white-hot.
But something stirred.
From the wound in his chest, black qi flared. The pain did not weaken him—it sharpened him. His vision cleared, his limbs surged with temporary strength. The more blood flowed, the more alive he felt.
The corpse beast slashed again. This time, Fei Tan caught its arm. His fingers dug into rotting flesh, fueled by a strength that should not exist in someone half-dead. With a roar, he twisted, slamming the creature against the bones beneath them.
Crack.
Its skull split. Dark essence leaked out like smoke, rushing into Fei Tan's wound. He gasped as it merged with his veins, burning like fire and ice all at once.
The whispers grew louder. Countless voices spoke at once, weaving together into words that clawed at his mind.
Blood spilled is strength gained.Wounds endured are walls shattered.Pain is the foundation of eternity.
Fei Tan shuddered.
He understood nothing, and yet he understood everything. Instinct guided him where reason could not. He sat among the corpses, blood dripping from his arm, and began to breathe in rhythm with the whispers.
Inhale death. Exhale defiance.
The qi entered him like knives, tearing meridians, but he forced it into order—not the order of the dark sect's methods, not the order of the righteous path, but something new. Something his own.
His wound throbbed, spreading its black veins through his chest, arms, and legs. He could feel his body knitting together, even as the pain threatened to consume him.
A thought rose in his mind, sharp and clear.
If I must bleed to grow, then let my Dao be carved from scars.
Thus, the first seed of his cultivation was born.
The Blood Reversal Sutra.
Hours passed. Or perhaps days—time lost meaning in the Burial Grounds. When Fei Tan finally opened his eyes again, his body no longer felt like a corpse. His skin was pale, his veins darkened, but strength pulsed beneath his flesh. He could feel it—the faint stirrings of cultivation.
His lips curved into a bitter grin.
"The elders wanted me broken. The righteous wanted me dead. Heaven itself ignored me. So I'll carve my own path. My Dao… will not kneel to anyone."
As he rose, something caught his eye.
Among the corpses, a figure appeared. Not flesh and bone, but a faint mirage—an echo of memory shaped from resentful qi. A girl, pale and cold-eyed, scarred yet proud, bound in chains.
Fei Tan recognized her instantly.
The girl from the orphanage. The one who had not screamed even as the needles tore her flesh.
Her lips moved silently, as if whispering his name. Then the vision shattered, dispersing into black mist.
Fei Tan stood frozen.
"Was that… her spirit?" he muttered. Then shook his head. No. Not spirit. Not yet. It was a mark, a lingering memory—one that would not fade.
His hand clenched. "If you still live… I'll find you."
The Burial Grounds answered with silence.
Yet silence was never true in that place.
From deep below, the ground trembled. A sound like chains dragging echoed faintly, sending shivers up Fei Tan's spine. The air grew colder, the whispers sharper.
Something ancient stirred beneath the corpses.
And Fei Tan, standing amidst bones with blood-stained hands, felt the weight of destiny pressing upon him once more.
He smiled, defiant as ever.
"Good. Let it come. If Heaven won't spare me, then let the Abyss test me."
End of Chapter 2 -
Chapter 3: The Massacre of Light
The tremors beneath the Burial Grounds did not cease.
For three days, Fei Tan remained among the corpses, drawing in the resentful qi. His body was battered and frail, but each wound, each cut, became fuel for the strange method he had stumbled upon. Where another cultivator would be crippled, Fei Tan grew stronger, his foundation carved through pain.
On the fourth day, the earth split.
From the depths of the burial pit, black fog surged upward. Bones rattled, corpses twisted, and the air reeked of blood. Out of the churning shadows, a figure emerged.
It was not a living man.
Once, perhaps, he had been a great cultivator—a patriarch of some sect. His robes, though tattered, still bore traces of golden embroidery. His body, however, was hollowed, consumed by resentment. His skull's eye sockets glowed with crimson fire, and chains of bone bound his limbs, dragging against the earth with every step.
A corpse general.
The pressure that emanated from it was suffocating, crushing Fei Tan's chest. His breath came ragged, his meridians screamed, but his eyes did not waver.
"So this is the test you give me, Burial Grounds?" His lips twisted into a grin. "Good. If I survive, I'll take your strength for myself. If I die… well, then Heaven wins at last."
The corpse general roared, its voice like a storm. In an instant, it blurred forward, chains lashing down.
Fei Tan leapt aside. Too slow. One chain grazed his shoulder, tearing flesh to the bone. Pain flared, but with it came that strange surge of power—the Blood Reversal Sutra feeding on his suffering.
His eyes sharpened.
Then I must bleed more.
With a shout, he charged into the storm of chains, allowing them to cut his arms, his chest, his back. Each strike fueled him further, his blood sizzling in the air like molten fire. His movements grew faster, sharper, until he was no longer simply evading but pressing forward.
He seized a broken sword from the ground, its blade rusted and jagged. With a roar, he drove it into the corpse general's chest.
The creature shrieked, its body convulsing as dark essence spilled out. Fei Tan's wound pulsed greedily, drinking in the essence, binding it to his veins.
The crimson fire in the corpse general's eyes flickered, dimmed, then extinguished. Its body collapsed, scattering into dust and bone fragments.
Fei Tan fell to his knees, chest heaving. His vision swam, blood pouring from a dozen wounds. Yet in his dantian, something shifted.
A spark.
Qi, pure and dark, condensed within him. His meridians, torn and jagged, re-knit around it. A core began to form—not the clean, crystalline core of righteous cultivators, but something darker, blood-streaked, pulsing with faint light.
Fei Tan laughed, a raw and broken sound.
"This is my Dao… the Dao of scars. Hahaha… Heaven, look well. You failed to kill me again."
But as his laughter echoed, he felt it—eyes watching him from above.
He looked up.
Through the rotting clouds, rays of light pierced the Burial Grounds. Cultivators in white robes descended, their swords blazing like suns. Their presence burned against the deathly qi, scattering shadows.
Fei Tan's gaze darkened.
The righteous sects. Again.
They moved swiftly, purging the grounds. Corpses ignited in flames of cleansing qi. Resentful spirits were obliterated by mantras of light.
One elder, his robes embroidered with the sigil of the Radiant Sword Sect, raised his voice.
"The taint of the Burial Grounds grows too restless. Purge it all. Leave not even ashes."
Their swords cut down everything that moved. Even the broken husks of half-living children, survivors of the massacre, were incinerated without pause.
Fei Tan's teeth ground together.
His chest still bled. His qi was unstable. By all rights, he should have hidden. But as the disciples descended upon the corpses with righteous fury, something inside him snapped.
"Righteous?" he whispered. "You call this righteous?"
He remembered the blade that had pierced his chest. The cold eyes of the disciple who had declared him unworthy of mercy. The laughter of the elders as children screamed under their needles.
Righteous… demonic… in the end, both only saw tools and pests.
Something in Fei Tan broke. And from the cracks, something monstrous surged forth.
Black qi erupted from his wounds, forming a shroud around him. His eyes glowed faint crimson.
He stood, broken sword in hand, and whispered:
"If you wish to massacre… then let me show you a true massacre."
The disciples noticed him at once.
"A survivor?" one sneered. "Corrupted. Kill him."
They descended in formation, swords flashing.
Fei Tan roared. His body moved on instinct, every cut fueling his power. Blades pierced his flesh, yet each wound only made him stronger. His broken sword cleaved through qi shields, through flesh, through bone.
Blood painted the Burial Grounds. Screams replaced the silence.
The elder's eyes narrowed. "Demonic spawn… what have you become?"
Fei Tan stood amidst corpses once more, but this time, he was not the victim. His chest heaved, his body trembling from exhaustion, but his grin was wild.
"What am I?" he spat blood. "I am the orphan who defied Heaven. I am the corpse that refused to rot. I am Fei Tan… and I'll carve my Dao in your blood."
The elder raised his sword, golden light blinding. "Then you'll die here."
Fei Tan laughed, lifting his jagged blade despite his shaking arm.
And deep below, the Burial Grounds trembled again. Something darker, older, stirred in response to the bloodshed.
The massacre was only beginning.
End of Chapter 3-
Chapter 4: Ashes of Mercy
The Burial Grounds stank of blood.
Fei Tan sat among the corpses, his breath ragged, his wounds raw. The broken sword still dripped crimson, its jagged edge almost entirely red. Around him lay the bodies of Radiant Sword Sect disciples, their shining robes now stained and torn.
His body trembled. He could barely lift his arm. Each cut across his flesh burned, but at the same time, his meridians pulsed with new vitality. He had crossed a threshold.
The Blood Reversal Sutra had stabilized.
It was madness. A cultivation path built not on balance, not on harmony, but on injury and pain. The more he bled, the stronger he became—so long as his will could withstand it. Any other cultivator would have long since collapsed.
Fei Tan simply smiled bitterly.
"If this is the Dao that answers me… then so be it."
The ground was littered with the sect's disciples, but not all of them were dead. A faint cough reached his ears.
Fei Tan turned.
Among the fallen, a girl in white robes stirred. Her hair was black as ink, her skin pale from blood loss. She had been struck down in the chaos, her sword broken in half beside her. Unlike the others, she had not been burned by her sect's cleansing flames—perhaps abandoned in haste when they realized she was gravely wounded.
Her eyes opened weakly, meeting his. They were clear, bright, like mountain spring water—but now clouded with pain and fear.
Fei Tan walked toward her slowly, dragging his ruined sword. Each step left a trail of blood. The girl's lips trembled.
"You… you're a demon…" she whispered.
Fei Tan stopped before her, staring down with eyes that glowed faint crimson. For a long time, he said nothing. His grip on the broken blade tightened.
It would be easy. One strike, and her voice would be silenced. One strike, and she would join the corpses around her.
But as he raised the blade, he saw her trembling hands clutching her broken sword. Her determination reminded him of another—a memory of chains, of needles, of a girl in the orphanage who had not screamed.
His hand shook.
Slowly, he lowered the weapon.
"I'm not merciful," he muttered, voice hoarse. "But I'm not righteous either. If fate wanted you dead, it wouldn't have left you breathing."
The girl blinked, stunned. "You… you're letting me live?"
Fei Tan knelt, his eyes cold. "Live or die, that's not mine to decide. But if you follow me… you'll never walk the righteous path again."
For hours, he carried her deeper into the Burial Grounds. She was too weak to walk, too injured to resist. The resentful qi gnawed at her, but wrapped in Fei Tan's aura, she was spared the worst of it.
At last, they reached a broken shrine half-buried in bones. Its walls were cracked, its statues headless, but it was shelter. Fei Tan laid her down against the stone and collapsed beside her, exhaustion crashing down on him.
Silence hung between them, broken only by her ragged breathing. Finally, the girl spoke.
"My name… is Bai Qing'er. Inner disciple of the Radiant Sword Sect."
Fei Tan's lips twisted. "Radiant Sword Sect… so you're one of those who call this massacre righteousness."
Her eyes flickered with shame. "I… I didn't know. They told us the dark sect hid here. That everyone inside was corrupted. We were ordered to cleanse it."
Fei Tan laughed bitterly. "Cleanse? That's what they called slaughtering children."
Her gaze trembled. She had no answer.
Fei Tan leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes. His body screamed for rest, but his mind burned. "Remember this, Bai Qing'er. Whatever your sect told you, whatever they claimed… to me, they're no different from the dark sect. Demons in white robes, hiding behind words."
She turned her face away, silent tears staining her cheeks.
Fei Tan smirked faintly. "If you live, you'll see the truth. If you die, you'll join the corpses. Either way… you're free to choose."
Night fell, though the Burial Grounds never truly darkened—they were always shadowed, always gray. Fei Tan sat cross-legged, focusing on his cultivation. His wounds bled slowly, fueling the sutra. Each drop of blood was a lesson, each scar a mark of progress.
In his dantian, the faint, unstable core pulsed with crimson light. He was still weak, barely above a cripple. But he was no longer powerless.
The girl watched him in silence. Fear lingered in her eyes, but curiosity had begun to take root as well.
Fei Tan's presence was terrifying—wild, untamed, demonic. Yet he had spared her when he could have killed her. Why? She could not understand.
And in that uncertainty, a seed was planted.
As dawn broke, Fei Tan opened his eyes. His wounds had stopped bleeding, the blood dried into dark patterns across his skin. He rose, stretching stiff muscles, and glanced at the girl.
"Can you walk?"
She shook her head faintly.
Fei Tan sighed, then offered his hand. She stared at it, hesitant, before slowly taking it. His grip was rough, calloused, but steady.
"Then I'll drag you along until you can."
Her heart skipped, though she didn't know why.
As they left the shrine, the Burial Grounds rumbled once more. The ground cracked, releasing a faint red mist. Fei Tan looked back at the corpses scattered behind them.
The massacre had ended, but its echoes would never fade.
And neither would he.
Fei Tan walked forward, dragging his broken blade, carrying the girl. His voice was quiet, but firm.
"One day, Bai Qing'er… you'll understand. The world doesn't need righteous or demonic. It only needs the Dao of those who refuse to bow."
End of Chapter 4-
Chapter 5: Chains of Trust
The Burial Grounds stretched endlessly, a sea of bones and shadows. Every step was treacherous. Every breath was heavy with resentment.
Fei Tan trudged forward, his broken sword strapped across his back, his other arm supporting Bai Qing'er. Her weight was light, yet every step strained his battered body.
"Why do you carry me?" she asked suddenly, her voice hoarse from silence.
Fei Tan didn't answer at first. He adjusted his grip and kept walking, eyes fixed on the broken horizon.
When he finally spoke, his tone was flat. "Because leaving you behind would make me no different from your sect."
Her lips trembled, but she said nothing more.
They found a shallow cave at the base of a fractured cliff. Bones littered its entrance, but it was dry, sheltered from the restless winds. Fei Tan set her down against the wall and began gathering scraps of wood and cloth from nearby corpses. Soon, a small fire flickered, its smoke curling upward.
The girl stared at him across the flames.
"You hate my sect."
Fei Tan smirked faintly. "I hate all sects. Yours just happens to be the one that killed me."
Her fingers tightened on her broken sword. "And yet you saved me."
Fei Tan met her gaze. His crimson eyes glowed faintly in the firelight. "I didn't save you. I spared you. There's a difference."
Bai Qing'er looked away, her heart pounding. She didn't know whether to fear him more, or… something else.
Night in the Burial Grounds was worse than day. Shadows shifted like living things. Whispers echoed through the cave, carrying fragments of screams.
Fei Tan sat cross-legged, his body covered in scars. Each breath drew resentful qi into him, fueling the Blood Reversal Sutra. His veins pulsed black and crimson.
Bai Qing'er watched, unable to sleep. His cultivation was unlike anything she had ever seen. Where her sect preached purity, clarity, and balance, his method was chaos—blood, pain, defiance. And yet, it worked.
Her voice was quiet. "Your body… doesn't it hurt?"
Fei Tan chuckled, low and bitter. "Of course it does. Pain is my master. Without it, I'd be nothing."
Her chest tightened. For a moment, she thought she saw the child behind the scars—the boy who had once lived in an orphanage before sects shattered his world.
The ground trembled suddenly.
Fei Tan's eyes snapped open. His hand gripped his broken sword.
From outside the cave, a low growl echoed. Bones crunched under heavy steps. A shadow loomed at the entrance.
Bai Qing'er's breath caught.
A beast entered—a monstrous wolf, its body twisted by resentful qi. Its fur was patchy, its eyes glowing green, its fangs dripping with black saliva.
A corpse beast… stronger than the one Fei Tan had faced before.
It lunged, jaws wide.
Fei Tan surged to his feet, shoving Bai Qing'er aside as the beast crashed into the cave. His sword slashed upward, sparks flying as rusted steel met bone.
The wolf howled, its claws raking his chest. Blood sprayed.
Fei Tan grinned through the pain. "Good… more fuel."
He swung again, the broken blade carving a deep gash across its flank. The wolf thrashed, slamming him against the wall. His ribs cracked, his breath staggered.
Bai Qing'er screamed. "Fei Tan!"
Her hands trembled as she raised her broken sword. She could barely stand, but seeing him crushed beneath the beast stirred something inside her.
"No…" she whispered. "I won't just watch."
With a cry, she plunged the jagged blade into the wolf's side. The beast shrieked, twisting toward her.
Fei Tan seized the chance. Blood dripping from his lips, he roared and drove his sword straight into the wolf's skull.
The creature convulsed, essence spilling like smoke. Fei Tan's wound absorbed it greedily, stitching his ribs with black qi. The wolf collapsed, lifeless.
Silence filled the cave once more.
Bai Qing'er fell to her knees, gasping. Her body shook with exhaustion, but her eyes shone. "I… I fought it. I didn't just watch."
Fei Tan looked at her, his expression unreadable. Then he laughed softly.
"You're a Radiant Sword disciple, proud and righteous. And yet, in this place, you fight side by side with a demon like me."
Her cheeks flushed. "Maybe… righteousness means less than survival."
Fei Tan's smile faded. His gaze grew sharp. "No. Survival is just the start. What matters is what you become while surviving."
She met his eyes, and for the first time, she didn't look away.
In the flickering firelight, something unspoken passed between them. Not trust, not yet—but a chain, thin and fragile, forged in blood and battle.
As dawn approached, Fei Tan sat at the cave's mouth, watching the endless field of bones. Bai Qing'er slept fitfully behind him, her head resting against the wall.
He clenched his fist, blood still dripping from his wounds.
"I don't know why I spared you," he murmured. "But perhaps… fate has a different torment prepared for me."
The Burial Grounds whispered in reply, their voices endless. Fei Tan closed his eyes, the broken sword heavy across his knees.
Whatever awaited them next, he would carve his path through it. With scars, with blood, with defiance.
And now, not entirely alone.
End of Chapter 5-
Chapter 6: Echoes of the Dead
The Burial Grounds stretched endlessly.
Fei Tan led the way, Bai Qing'er leaning on him for support. The battle with the corpse beast had drained them both, but silence was more dangerous than wounds. In this cursed place, silence meant the next predator was simply waiting.
Their footsteps crunched over bones. The air grew colder with every mile, until their breath misted in the gloom. Strange monoliths of black stone began to rise from the earth, carved with runes that pulsed faintly in the dark.
Bai Qing'er shivered. "These stones… they feel alive."
Fei Tan's crimson eyes narrowed. "Not alive. Bound."
As he touched one, whispers filled his ears—louder than ever before. Countless voices, some pleading, some furious, some maddened beyond reason. His blood stirred, resonating with the voices as if they recognized him.
For a heartbeat, the world around him flickered.
He stood not among bones, but in a battlefield of fire and steel. Ancient cultivators clashed, their arts tearing heaven and earth apart. Screams thundered, rivers of blood flowed. And at the heart of it all, a dark figure chained in countless bindings, roaring toward the sky.
The vision shattered.
Fei Tan staggered, clutching his chest.
Bai Qing'er's hand touched his arm. "Fei Tan! What happened?"
He shook her off. His face was pale, but his eyes burned with madness. "I saw it. These stones… they're seals. Something powerful is bound beneath this place."
They pressed on.
Hours later, they found a massive chasm splitting the ground. From its depths rose the stench of rot, and from its edges, faint red mist curled like living tendrils. Across the chasm lay a collapsed shrine, its roof shattered, its statue faceless.
Fei Tan's eyes narrowed. That place called to him.
But before they could move closer, the ground shook violently. Bones spilled into the chasm. The mist thickened, and from it, shapes emerged.
Dozens of them.
Resentful spirits, more solid than any he had seen before. They wore the faces of ancient cultivators, their mouths twisted in fury. Their bodies flickered like smoke, yet their killing intent was sharp enough to pierce flesh.
Bai Qing'er's hand tightened on her broken sword. Fear flashed in her eyes, but she stood beside him nonetheless.
Fei Tan grinned, blood boiling. "Good. More fuel."
The spirits surged.
The battle was chaos.
Spiritual claws tore at him, raking his flesh. His arms bled, his ribs cracked—but the Blood Reversal Sutra devoured his pain, flooding him with strength. His broken sword cut through the mist, scattering spirits with each strike.
Bai Qing'er fought too, her body weak but her will unyielding. Every swing of her jagged blade was desperate, every breath a struggle, but she stood firm at his side.
For every spirit they cut down, two more rose. Their numbers were endless.
"Fei Tan!" Bai Qing'er gasped, blood dripping from her lip. "We can't… win!"
Fei Tan's laugh was wild, eyes glowing crimson. "Then we'll carve a path through death itself!"
He slashed wildly, letting his wounds fuel him. His aura grew darker, thicker, until the spirits began to hesitate.
And then, the earth beneath them cracked open.
From the chasm, a column of red light erupted, scattering the spirits. The runes on the black stones flared, trembling as if straining against something immense.
In the light, a figure appeared.
It was not flesh, nor spirit—it was an echo, a shadow bound by the seal. A girl, draped in tattered robes, her hair flowing like ink, her eyes glowing with faint crimson. Chains wrapped her wrists and ankles, binding her to the chasm.
Her gaze swept across the battlefield and fell upon Fei Tan.
In that instant, his blood roared. The whispers of the Burial Grounds became a single voice, clear and sharp.
"Come… to me…"
Fei Tan's heart pounded. He didn't know who she was. A prisoner of the seal? A ghost of the Burial Grounds? A devil chained beneath the earth?
But as her crimson gaze locked with his, he felt it—familiarity. As if their fates were entwined, as if she had been waiting for him.
Bai Qing'er stumbled, eyes wide. "Fei Tan… what is that…?"
He did not answer.
Because deep inside, he already knew.
This was no ordinary spirit. This was the echo of something far more dangerous—perhaps the second heroine, perhaps his greatest curse.
And she was calling to him.
The spirits fled as the light dimmed. The chasm sealed once more, though the chains still faintly rattled in the depths. Silence fell.
Fei Tan dropped to his knees, chest heaving, his blade slick with blood. His wounds were many, his strength nearly gone.
Bai Qing'er knelt beside him, her hand trembling as it touched his arm. "You… you saw her too, didn't you?"
Fei Tan's crimson eyes flickered with madness, but his grin was sharp.
"Yes," he whispered. "And I'll find her. No matter what lies beneath this place… she's mine to claim."
The Burial Grounds answered with silence.
But in the depths of the chasm, faint laughter echoed, soft and sweet—like a promise, or a curse.
End of Chapter 6-
Chapter 7: Temptation of Chains
The cavern was quiet again, but the silence felt wrong. Too heavy. Too expectant.
Fei Tan sat cross-legged at the mouth of the chasm, blood still dripping from his wounds. His broken sword rested across his knees, its jagged edge humming faintly with resentful qi. His crimson eyes were fixed on the depths below, where the vision of the chained girl had faded.
Yet in his ears, the whisper lingered.
Come… to me…
Each beat of his heart echoed with that call. It wasn't just sound—it was inside his veins, tugging at his soul.
Behind him, Bai Qing'er sat slumped against a broken stone pillar. Her body trembled with exhaustion, her robe torn, blood soaking the fabric. She had fought until she could no longer lift her sword.
Still, her eyes never left him.
"You saw her," she said softly. "That… thing in the chains. Who is she?"
Fei Tan didn't answer. His gaze never left the chasm.
Bai Qing'er's voice hardened, despite her weakness. "Fei Tan. That aura wasn't human. It was demonic. Whatever she is, she'll destroy you."
At last, he turned his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "Destroy me? Perhaps. Or perhaps she's the only thing that can complete me."
Her breath caught. For the first time, she saw not just the survivor, not just the scarred orphan—but the ambition burning in him. A madness that could devour anything in its path.
The night stretched on.
Fei Tan tried to meditate, but the whispers drowned his focus. They weren't pain—they were hunger. They demanded he move, descend, reach for the one bound in the chains.
Bai Qing'er stirred, her voice trembling. "Don't go down there."
He opened his eyes. She was closer now, her face pale but her gaze steady.
"You think I don't know what happens to those who touch forbidden seals? They're devoured. Corrupted. You've already taken in too much darkness… If you reach for her, you won't come back."
Her words might have been concern, or perhaps desperation.
Fei Tan studied her for a long moment. Then, unexpectedly, he laughed softly.
"You sound like someone who cares."
Her cheeks flushed, but she didn't back down. "I don't care for you. I care for survival. If you fall, I fall too."
His grin sharpened. "Liar."
She clenched her fists, but she had no strength to argue further.
Suddenly, the ground shook again.
From the chasm, a low hum rose, deeper than before. The black stones surrounding them lit up, runes blazing like fire. The red mist thickened, coiling around them like chains.
Fei Tan rose instantly, sword in hand. Bai Qing'er staggered to her feet beside him.
From the mist, figures began to form—more solid, more defined than resentful spirits. These were different.
"Puppets," Bai Qing'er whispered in horror. "Bound guardians of the seal."
They were shaped like armored cultivators, their faces hidden beneath helmets, their bodies forged of bone and steel. Their movements were slow but deliberate, each carrying a weapon glowing faintly with cursed light.
There were five of them.
Fei Tan's blood boiled. He could feel the pull of the chained girl, stronger than ever, urging him to fight, to bleed, to draw closer.
Bai Qing'er's hand gripped his sleeve. "Fei Tan—listen to me. If you fight here, if you let that seal feed on you, you won't escape its grasp."
He looked at her, his eyes glowing faintly red.
"And if I don't fight, we die here."
The guardians advanced.
Fei Tan surged forward, his broken blade howling as it clashed against bone-forged weapons. Sparks and black qi exploded with every strike. His body was already broken, but the Blood Reversal Sutra drank from his wounds, flooding him with more strength.
Bai Qing'er fought too, though her blade was shattered. She deflected strikes, bought moments, each swing draining her remaining energy.
But the guardians were relentless. Their power was not their own—it was the seal's. For every wound they took, their forms knitted back together, fueled by the chasm's red mist.
Fei Tan's laughter echoed wildly.
"Good! The stronger the enemy, the better the fuel!"
But Bai Qing'er's face twisted with dread. She could feel it—every drop of his blood spilled was being absorbed by the chasm, feeding the presence below.
And the whisper grew louder.
Come… closer… break my chains…
The battle raged until Fei Tan's body was barely standing. Yet each wound only deepened his madness, his grin sharp as steel. His crimson eyes glowed brighter than ever.
At last, the guardians faltered. He raised his broken sword, drenched in his own blood and theirs, and roared as he struck the final blow, shattering their forms into fragments of bone and shadow.
Silence fell once more.
Fei Tan collapsed to one knee, gasping for breath, his body torn and battered. But in his chest, his heart pounded like a drum, his veins flooded with violent power.
He looked into the chasm again.
And there—through the red mist—he saw her.
The chained girl. Her eyes were on him again, filled with quiet amusement. This time, she smiled.
Not mockery. Not cruelty. Something softer.
"Closer…" she whispered.
Fei Tan's lips curled into a grin.
"Yes…"
But before he could rise, Bai Qing'er's hands seized his shoulders.
Her voice cracked, tears burning in her eyes. "Enough! You'll lose yourself! Don't you see she's using you?"
Fei Tan turned to her, surprised at the desperation in her tone.
For a heartbeat, something in him wavered.
But then, he smirked, his voice low and dangerous.
"Maybe I want to be used."
End of Chapter 7-
Chapter 8: Chains That Whisper
The guardians' remains still smoldered in the red mist, their weapons dissolving into ash.
Fei Tan sat hunched, his breathing ragged, blood dripping down his arms. His broken sword trembled in his grip, as if thirsting for more.
The chasm pulsed again.
This time, it was not just whispers.
Chains rattled in the depths, sharp and heavy, their sound reverberating through the bones scattered across the land. The mist surged upward, curling around him, caressing his skin like unseen fingers.
And then she appeared.
Not a fleeting vision. Not a shadow.
She rose from the chasm itself, her body half-formed of light and shadow, her tattered robes fluttering as if moved by a phantom wind. Chains wrapped her wrists, ankles, and throat, yet her presence was regal, her crimson eyes luminous against the dark.
The chained girl.
Her gaze locked on Fei Tan, and this time, her voice was no whisper.
"At last… you came to me."
Fei Tan's heart thundered. Every wound on his body burned, yet he felt no pain—only a strange warmth spreading through him, as though her voice alone was stitching his broken flesh.
He rose slowly, his eyes never leaving hers.
"Who are you?" he demanded, his voice rough.
Her lips curved faintly, as though the question amused her. "Names are shackles. Even mine was taken when they bound me here. But you… I know what you are. A child of torment. A vessel of pain."
Fei Tan's breath quickened. The words struck too close.
Bai Qing'er staggered to her feet, her broken sword clutched tightly. She stepped between them, trembling but resolute.
"Stay away from him!" she shouted. "You're nothing but a demon!"
The chained girl tilted her head, her crimson gaze falling upon Bai Qing'er. Her faint smile lingered.
"A fragile candle, flickering in a storm. You cling to him, yet you fear what he truly is."
Bai Qing'er's face paled, but she did not move aside.
Fei Tan's eyes flicked between them. The tension was sharp enough to cut.
The chained girl's gaze returned to him. "You seek strength, don't you? To crush the sects that abandoned you… to forge your own Dao from the ashes of pain."
Fei Tan's grip on his sword tightened. "And if I do?"
Her chains rattled violently, sparks bursting where they dug into her flesh of light and shadow. Yet her smile grew sharper.
"Then break these bonds. Free me. I will give you what no sect ever could. Power to carve your name into the heavens. Power to make the world bleed."
The Burial Grounds trembled as her words spread like waves. The runes on the black monoliths flared, resonating with her plea.
Fei Tan's blood roared. Every fiber of him screamed to accept.
But Bai Qing'er's cry cut through the air.
"Fei Tan! Don't listen!"
She grabbed his arm, her voice breaking. "That thing isn't offering you strength—she's devouring you piece by piece! You've already given too much to this darkness. If you give her more… you won't be you anymore!"
Her hand trembled against his bloodied skin, but her eyes shone with raw determination.
Fei Tan looked at her.
Her face was pale, her lips bloodied, her body weak. Yet she stood there, shielding him with everything she had left.
For a heartbeat, something stirred in him—an unfamiliar warmth, buried beneath the years of torment and pain.
The chained girl saw it too. Her smile faltered, replaced by something colder.
Her chains rattled violently. The mist lashed out, slamming into Bai Qing'er like a storm. She screamed, her body thrown to the ground, blood spraying from her lips.
"Qing'er!" Fei Tan roared, lunging forward.
But the mist surged, wrapping around his limbs, dragging him toward the chasm. The chained girl's voice was soft, coaxing, irresistible.
"Come to me, Fei Tan. Cast aside weakness. Cast aside chains of flesh and heart. You and I… we will forge eternity together."
His mind split.
One half saw Bai Qing'er's trembling hand reaching for him, her eyes begging him to resist.
The other half saw crimson eyes glowing in the abyss, promising power, glory, and vengeance.
The Burial Grounds shook violently, as if his choice alone would decide its fate.
Fei Tan's body trembled, caught between two chains: one of blood, one of fire.
He bared his teeth, blood dripping from his lips.
And then—he roared, his voice tearing the silence.
"I… am not a slave!"
His aura exploded, a storm of black and crimson qi blasting the mist away. The chains pulling at him snapped back, writhing in fury.
The chained girl's eyes widened, her crimson gaze flickering. For the first time, her composure cracked.
Bai Qing'er gasped, her tears mixing with blood as she forced herself upright.
Fei Tan's body shook with exhaustion, but his eyes burned, wild and unyielding.
"I'll take your strength," he growled, pointing his broken sword toward the abyss. "But not as your puppet. Not as your pawn. I'll forge it into my Dao, with my blood, with my scars, with my will."
The chained girl stared at him.
And then… she laughed. Soft, melodic, yet filled with something ancient and terrifying.
Her chains rattled like thunder, her voice echoing through the Burial Grounds.
"Good… very good… Break me, if you can, Fei Tan. Then we shall see whose Dao survives."
The vision flickered, and she vanished back into the depths.
Silence returned.
Fei Tan collapsed to one knee, drenched in blood, his chest heaving. Bai Qing'er crawled to his side, her trembling hand pressing against his arm.
Her voice was barely a whisper. "You… resisted her…"
Fei Tan chuckled weakly, crimson eyes half-lidded. "Resisted? No… I made her mine."
Bai Qing'er shivered. She didn't know if his words were strength—or madness.
But she knew one thing: the chains beneath the Burial Grounds were not just his curse. They were his destiny.
And she was bound to it now, whether she wished it or not.
End of Chapter 8-
Chapter 9: Trial of Blood and Shadow
The Burial Grounds were quiet, but it was not peace—it was the hush before a storm.
Fei Tan sat cross-legged within the ruined cave they had claimed for shelter. His broken sword lay across his knees, glowing faintly with black qi.
His body was torn and bloodied, his robes shredded. Every inch of him screamed in pain. Yet his eyes were closed, his breathing steady.
Around him, resentful qi spiraled like a storm, drawn into his wounds, his veins, his bones.
Bai Qing'er sat a few steps away, her arms wrapped around herself. She watched him with unease.
He looked as though he was dissolving into the darkness itself—his skin faintly translucent, his blood glowing crimson against the black mist.
Her voice trembled. "Fei Tan… if you force it, you'll die."
He did not reply.
Because already, his consciousness had fallen inward.
Inside his mind, there was no cave. No bones. No Burial Grounds.
Only endless darkness.
He floated in it, weightless, his wounds gone.
Then, one by one, figures emerged around him.
The orphans from the sect's orphanage—faces twisted in torment as they had been dragged into the darkness. The Radiant Sword cultivators, cutting them down without mercy. His parents—faces blurred by blood, falling in the flames of war.
They surrounded him, hundreds of them, their eyes burning with hatred.
"You should have died with us.""You're nothing but a remnant.""You're no cultivator—only a demon."
Their voices crashed like waves, striking into his heart.
Fei Tan grinned. His teeth bared, his eyes glowing crimson.
"Yes," he said. "I am a demon. But I am a demon who survives."
The shadows lunged at him.
Fei Tan raised his broken sword, now whole and gleaming within the dreamscape, and roared as he cut them down.
Every strike tore open his own scars, every swing was agony—but each time his blood fell, the darkness thickened around him, feeding his strength.
He carved through orphan and cultivator alike, his laughter echoing.
But then, a voice cut through the chaos.
"Fei Tan…"
He froze.
Through the sea of corpses, she appeared—the chained girl. Her form was hazy, wrapped in mist, yet her crimson eyes glowed with warmth and hunger.
Her chains dragged across the ground, rattling in the void.
"You cannot kill me here," she said softly. "Because I am inside you."
Fei Tan's chest tightened. He gripped his sword harder, veins bulging.
"Then I'll cut you out."
Her laugh was soft, melodic, terrifying. "You can't. You are mine already. Every wound, every drop of blood, every moment of torment—you forged yourself with my essence."
The shadows froze around them. Even his parents' broken faces turned toward her, kneeling as though she were their master.
The chained girl stepped closer, her crimson gaze locking with his.
"Break for me, Fei Tan. Break the line between man and demon. And I will be yours."
Outside, Bai Qing'er saw his body convulse. Black qi burst from his pores, swirling like a storm. His teeth ground together, his breathing ragged.
His aura grew heavier, darker—so dark it made her chest seize.
She pressed a trembling hand against his arm. "Fei Tan! Fight it! Don't let her—don't let her take you!"
Inside, her voice pierced the darkness.
Fei Tan blinked, blood dripping from his lips. For a heartbeat, he saw Bai Qing'er standing before him, not the chained girl—her pale face, her trembling hand reaching for him despite her fear.
The chained girl's eyes narrowed.
"Softness will destroy you."
Fei Tan laughed bitterly, raising his sword. "Softness? No. It's a chain of its own. And I…"
He roared, driving his blade through the shadows, through the chained girl's form, through himself.
"…I'll make all chains mine!"
The dreamscape shattered.
His eyes flew open.
The cave shook violently, stones cracking, bones rattling outside. His blood erupted in black and crimson flames, swirling around him like a storm. His aura expanded, pressing against Bai Qing'er with suffocating force.
And then, it collapsed back into his body.
Fei Tan exhaled slowly, his crimson eyes gleaming brighter than before. His skin was pale, but his wounds no longer bled—they pulsed faintly with living black lines, as if etched with runes.
He had broken through.
The Blood Reversal Sutra had advanced. No longer just a method of surviving through pain—now, it was a Dao of turning torment itself into power.
Bai Qing'er's heart pounded as she stared at him. She wanted to look away, but couldn't.
"You… you changed…" she whispered.
Fei Tan smiled faintly, sharp and weary. "No. I just became more of myself."
But in the depths of the Burial Grounds, far beneath the earth, chains rattled in amusement.
The girl laughed softly, her voice echoing through the seal.
"Yes… grow stronger, Fei Tan. Every chain you claim, every torment you embrace… brings you closer to me."
End of Chapter 9-
Chapter 10: The Righteous Hunt
The Burial Grounds never rested. Bones whispered. The mist writhed. The air was thick with malice.
But for the first time, Fei Tan's breathing was calm. He sat with his eyes closed, his aura condensed, his veins pulsing faintly with black-red light. Every scar on his body glowed faintly, like chains etched into flesh.
He had changed.
Bai Qing'er sat nearby, her eyes never leaving him. She tried to tell herself it was caution, fear of what he had become. But deep down, she knew it was not fear that made her chest tighten.
It was something else—something she did not want to name.
The ground trembled.
Fei Tan's eyes snapped open. His hand closed around his broken sword. Bai Qing'er stiffened, her face paling.
This was no echo of resentful qi. This was something heavier, sharper, colder.
Killing intent.
From beyond the cave, voices rose—chanting, rhythmic, each word heavy with righteousness. A glow spread across the horizon, banishing the mist like sunlight.
Bai Qing'er's blood ran cold.
"That's… Radiant Sword Sect…"
Fei Tan stood, his grin sharp and mocking. "So the hounds finally came sniffing."
At the edge of the Burial Grounds, more than a dozen cultivators marched in formation, their swords blazing with golden light. At their head was a man clad in flowing white robes, his presence steady and suffocating. His sword aura alone carved open the mist, holding back the Burial Grounds' resentment.
His voice rang out, deep and clear.
"In the name of Radiant Sword Sect, we purge this land of corruption. Leave no remnant of the Dark Sect alive."
The cultivators raised their swords, light gathering into a single wave.
Inside the cave, Bai Qing'er's body shook. Her hands trembled around her broken sword. She knew that voice—her senior brother, chosen heir of their sect.
She had once admired him. Followed him. Sworn to uphold his ideals.
But now, her gaze shifted to Fei Tan, standing in the shadows, blood-red aura swirling faintly around him.
Her heart twisted.
If they saw her with him… she would be branded a traitor.
Fei Tan laughed softly, his crimson eyes blazing.
"Perfect. I was beginning to think this graveyard was too quiet."
He turned to Bai Qing'er, his grin cruel and daring. "So, Bai Qing'er. Will you run back to your righteous brothers… or will you stand beside me?"
Her breath caught.
The glow outside grew brighter as the cultivators advanced. The cave shook with the pressure of their combined aura.
Bai Qing'er's lips trembled. Her mind screamed at her to run, to rejoin her sect, to reclaim her place among the righteous.
But her heart…
Her heart remembered Fei Tan carrying her when she was broken. His laughter through blood. His defiance against chains, against fate, against gods themselves.
Her heart knew she could not watch him die.
She raised her broken sword, stepping beside him. Her voice was barely a whisper, yet steady.
"I'll stand."
Fei Tan's grin widened. For the first time, a flicker of something softer—approval—lit his eyes.
"Good."
Outside, the Radiant Sword cultivators unleashed their attack. A storm of golden blades descended upon the Burial Grounds, each strike filled with righteous fury.
Fei Tan raised his broken sword, his aura flaring, black and crimson against gold.
The clash shook the earth. Bones shattered, mist roared, light and darkness collided in a storm that split the sky.
And in the depths of the chasm, chains rattled violently.
The chained girl's laughter echoed faintly, carried on the wind.
"Fight, Fei Tan… fight them all. Every enemy you slay brings me closer to freedom."
End of Chapter 10