The scent of blood lingered in the night air.
Beneath the pale moon, three corpses lay scattered in the mist — their eyes wide open, the terror of their final moments frozen forever. Wang Chung stood among them, his breathing heavy but controlled. His dagger dripped crimson, each drop falling to the ground like a solemn offering to the heavens.
He felt no joy, no relief. Only a cold calm.
The wind shifted, carrying the faint scent of smoke from Qingmu Town in the distance. The Scarlet Flame Sect had turned the entire region upside down in search of him.
> "You destroyed my sect," Wang Chung muttered, his voice low, almost a whisper. "So don't blame me when your blood dyes the soil."
He squatted beside one of the bodies, checking for useful items. Spirit stones, a few low-grade pills, and a talisman covered in runes that glowed faintly red.
A Scarlet Flame Tracking Talisman.
He studied it closely, feeling a faint connection tugging at it from afar — meaning others were linked to it.
> "So this is how you hunt," he murmured. "Then I'll turn your own fire against you."
The bead within his soul pulsed faintly. A calm, pure chi spread through his body, soothing his exhausted meridians. He had fought for his life three times in the span of two days, and yet, somehow, his body felt… lighter. His senses sharper.
The purification of the bead was subtle, but invaluable. It didn't give him power directly — it simply made every ounce of effort more effective, every cultivation session cleaner.
It was the perfect companion for someone who refused to rely on luck.
---
Wang Chung retreated deeper into the forest.
He followed a narrow, half-buried trail that led him to a cliffside waterfall. Beneath its roar, he found a hidden cavern, its entrance half-covered by vines and mist. Inside, it was dry and silent — a perfect hiding spot.
He lit a small fire and sat cross-legged, closing his eyes. The faint scent of herbs filled the air as he crushed a pill between his fingers and guided its essence into his dantian.
The chi within him flowed steadily, purified by the bead's energy. His cultivation base solidified.
Seventh Level of Body Tempering.
It was a small step for most cultivators — but for someone once considered talentless, it was a leap beyond imagination.
> "Power…" he whispered. "If I want revenge, I'll need more of it. Much more."
He opened his eyes, gaze reflecting the firelight.
Outside, the mist thickened. A soft rustle echoed from the forest.
Then — voices.
> "Over here! His aura trail leads into this direction!"
> "He can't have gone far. Search the waterfall!"
The Scarlet Flame Sect had found him. Again.
Wang Chung blew out the fire instantly, his body tensing. He pressed himself against the rock wall, controlling his breathing until even his heartbeat slowed.
Three cultivators entered the area, their red robes glinting faintly in the mist. Two held swords, while the third carried a talisman glowing faintly — a tracking seal.
> "The trail stops here," said one. "Maybe he hid in the cave."
> "Then check it. If we find him, the elder will reward us."
Their laughter was short-lived.
As the first stepped through the vines, a flash of silver streaked through the darkness — silent, precise. The man's eyes widened, but he didn't have time to scream before his throat was slit cleanly.
Blood sprayed the rock wall.
> "What—?!"
The other two charged, their swords glowing with faint flame qi. The cave erupted in sparks and sound as Wang Chung parried desperately, each strike rattling his bones. The seventh-level cultivator he had become was barely enough.
One sword grazed his arm — searing heat cut his flesh open. The pain was sharp, but his mind remained cold.
He waited. Watched.
Then — an opening.
The second man swung wildly. Wang Chung sidestepped, slammed his elbow into the man's chest, and plunged his dagger through his heart.
The last one shouted in rage and slashed downward with all his strength. The blade struck the ground as Wang Chung rolled aside, snatching the fallen man's sword. He turned and thrust it upward — straight through the attacker's jaw.
Silence returned to the cave.
The only sound was the waterfall outside, steady and cold.
Wang Chung dropped the sword, his arm trembling. Blood trickled down his face, but his eyes glowed faintly with a new light — calm, resolute, terrifyingly determined.
> "You hunted me," he said quietly, wiping the blade clean. "Now it's my turn to hunt you."
He gathered the corpses into a corner, stripped them of valuables, and used one of the Scarlet Flame talismans to ignite them. The flames roared for a moment, then died — their light swallowed by mist.
As he sat back down to meditate, the bead within him pulsed again.
This time, it didn't just purify his chi. For a brief instant, he heard something faint — like a whisper.
A sound that wasn't of this world.
It vanished as soon as it came.
Wang Chung opened his eyes slowly. "What are you…?"
The bead, as always, gave no answer. But deep within his dantian, its faint glow seemed just a little brighter.
That night, under the endless rain of the waterfall, Wang Chung cultivated in silence — his heart steady, his resolve like iron.
The path he had chosen was filled with blood, but he would walk it to the end.