In a dimly lit chamber, where ancient armors lined the walls and weapons of every shape rested in ordered racks—blades, spears, axes, and bows—a single massive throne dominated the shadows.
Upon that throne, Wang Zhen sat in silence, his form framed by flickering torches that cast his features into deep shadow. The faint glint of power shimmered in his eyes, sharp as cold obsidian.
Kneeling before him was a spirit—its form shifting and ethereal, comprised wholly of pulsing white and blue flames. It lacked even the hint of a face, its head bowed low in reverence."Master," the spirit intoned, voice echoing off the stone walls, "I've arranged for the two thousand remaining to fight to the death. The conditions you set are in motion."
Wang Zhen's lips curved in satisfaction. "Good. Let them fight. When a day has passed, return and report how many remain alive. Prepare the next phase."
The spirit's flames flared for a moment, then it nodded low. "Yes, master. By your will."With a faint hiss, the spirit dissolved into the darkness.
Wang Zhen leaned forward, the weight of his plans settling around him. All that remained was to see who survived—who would be worthy as tool or sacrifice in the ascent to the next realm.
...
Han Chen stood quietly in the dim expanse of the dark forest under the dome, its lack of natural light oddly balanced by the unyielding clarity of his vision. The eerie quiet enfolded him as he centered his thoughts, his senses sharpened beyond normal boundaries.
His internal gauge presented the stark reality: Death Qi reserves sat at a mere 0.013253%. It was dangerously low, yet not entirely depleted.
With measured precision, Han Chen drew a sliver—just 0.000200%—of Death Qi and directed it to halt a that bearded cultivator whose spiritual energy had been sealed completely, reducing him essentially to mortal fragility.
The remaining Death Qi after the move was tracked as 0.013053%. From the essence of that cultivator, Han Chen absorbed 0.000542% of Life Qi, replenishing his own reserves subtly but decisively. "Not bad." Han Chen thought, a faint spark of approval flickering alongside his pragmatic thoughts. "If I can use this stored energy to freeze others, I can get more Life Qi from cultivators—mortals, in all but name—trapped here just as I am."
His mind settled into the cold calculation of survival, each fraction of energy drawn a step toward the elusive goal of surviving no matter the cost.
The forest around him remained motionless, save for the faint rustle of distant footsteps echoing the deadly struggle unfolding across the dome.
Han Chen's gaze sharpened, ready to move again when opportunity arose.
...
In the shadowed depths of the dome's forest, a man darted through the dense trees with practiced agility. His broad shoulders and quick dodges betrayed a man used to combat, and his smirk carried both confidence and mischief."Old hags, catch me if you can!" he yelled in a teasing tone, his voice echoing sharply among the silent trees.
The two women chasing him responded not with words, but with fierce attacks—claws and spells aimed with deadly intent. Yet, amidst their ferocious assault, their attacks crossed paths, and they inadvertently struck each other, sent stumbling back with curses and furious glares.
The man kept dodging gracefully, provoking them. "Come on, if you're not an old hag, don't just chase—catch me!" his voice rang out, a taunt that seemed to drive the women further into their rage.
Suddenly, they exchanged glances, an unspoken understanding passing between them. Together, they stopped their attacks, nodding sharply as if reaching a silent agreement.
"Let's teach this man a lesson," one girl hissed fiercely.
"Time to settle this," the other added, their eyes blazing with renewed fury.
The man, hearing their collective resolve, let out a triumphant smirk. "Hahahaha, old hags are too slow!" he roared as he pushed deeper into the woods.
He burst through a thick patch of trees and into a small clearing—a perfect vantage point as he declared loudly, "Brother, the girls you wanted—I've lured them here!"
His voice echoed confidently, aiming for Han Chen. "Now, let's capture them!"
Han Chen, standing amidst the trees, narrowed his eyes in surprise. His thoughts flashed quickly: "This is unexpected. The prey has delivered itself, and even invited more to the hunt."
The two girls halted abruptly, their gazes falling on Han Chen and the man's words. They immediately suspected Han Chen was the mastermind behind this little trap.
"Now what do we do?" one girl whispered, her voice tense.
The other's expression hardened. "Let's fight to the death—inside the dome, it doesn't matter," she hissed, igniting her aura with barely contained fury.
The air crackled with impending violence, as the scene was set for a brutal confrontation.
Han Chen observed the trio warily. Although their spiritual energies were sealed inside the dome, the refined Rank 3 to 5 Gu they had cultivated granted them strong, reinforced bodies. Han Chen, however, was still a mortal at heart—his flesh and bones far more fragile.
Clashing with such opponents was not something he wanted unless absolutely necessary.
A cold smirk crept across Han Chen's face. Without hesitation, his forehead skin split open once more, revealing the obsidian-black sclera and the purple, watchful pupil of the Heavenly Eye pulsing steadily.
Drawing from his reserves with precision, Han Chen siphoned out exactly 0.000600% of Death Qi, leaving 0.012453% still stored within.
Suddenly, the three assailants froze in place, their bodies rigid and immobile, eyes wide with shock.
"What did you do to us?!" one yelled, struggling against the invisible bonds.
"Release me at once!" another commanded, voice strained with fury.
Han Chen's smirk deepened as he activated the Heavenly Eye once more. Ethereal threads of energy extended from his gaze, weaving through the air and piercing into the bodies of his captives.
The threads drew their life's essence, draining and shrinking their vitality. Their bodies rapidly withered, flesh fading as their spiritual energy was siphoned directly into the Heavenly Eye's dark well.
After some time, the three adversaries collapsed to the ground, hollow husks devoid of life or spirit.
Han Chen calmly noted the increase in his reserves — gaining 0.001631% of Life Qi from their drained essence.
His ruthless pragmatism guided him; this method of survival and expansion was efficient, silent, and deadly—a perfect tool in the merciless confines of the dome.
...
Han Chen moved through the dense shadows of the forest with cold precision, every step calculated, every breath measured. The dome's oppressive silence was occasionally interrupted by the rustle of leaves or the distant shouts of other cultivators locked in desperate combat, but Han Chen's focus remained unbroken. He was a predator stalking through his hunting grounds, methodical and merciless.
His Death Qi reserves were running low—0.012453% left—a mere sliver of power. But he knew exactly what to do.
Spotting a pair of cultivators sparring in a narrow clearing, Han Chen slipped behind the cover of trees, unseen and silent. His eyes, the black sclera and violet pupil of the Heavenly Eye, glowed faintly as he wove his soul power, threading tendrils of darkness through the undergrowth.
Suddenly, with a swift motion, he unleashed Death Qi in a silent binding spell, freezing one of the cultivators mid-strike. The other barely had time to react before Han Chen emerged like a shadowy specter, his fist colliding with precise force onto the frozen enemy's chest.
A decisive crack echoed as the cultivator crumpled to the ground, breathless and lifeless. The frozen victim broke free seconds later, but it was already too late for that lifeblood to be restored.
Han Chen's Heavenly Eye pulsed, siphoning life essence from the fallen, threads of death and life qi weaving between the two energies in a deadly dance.
The other cultivator, wide-eyed with fear, lunged at Han Chen, but the battle was brief. Han Chen dodged with ruthless efficiency, striking at the throat with spiritual energy condensed into a sharp blade of force. The cultivator fell silently, a shadow draining from body and soul, feeding Han Chen's Life Qi reservoir.
Over the hours, Han Chen repeated this grim ritual. He struck quickly, eliminating opponents one by one with surgical strikes—no prolonged battles, no grand displays of cultivated power. His attacks were like whispered death: a sudden pulse of Death Qi to freeze or weaken, followed by swift lethal assault, then the siphoning of Life Qi through the Heavenly Eye's ravenous gaze.
Sometimes two or three enemies approached simultaneously. In these moments, Han Chen unleashed a subtle symphony of power—binding one with Death Qi threads, darting toward another with a burst of speed, cleaving through defenses as if his fists were blades of night itself.
Each kill drained his Death Qi reserves, but replenished his Life Qi anew, pushing his total to 0.047615%, far above what he began this hunt with. Death Qi was depleted to 0% many times. But, replenished.
He paused at times beneath ancient trees, the weight of necessary murder heavy on his mind, but his heart remained unyielding.
In the dome, killing to accumulate Death Qi and using it to harvest Life Qi is more than survival—it's the perfect plan.
Each fallen cultivator carved him closer to his goal: the energy to activate the Heavenly Eye enough to tear a portal and escape this prison.
Han Chen's eyes glowed beneath the cold canopy, the flicker of ruthless hope sharper than any blade, relentless in its pursuit of freedom.
...
In the suffocating darkness of the dome's forest, the spirit materialized—its form a swirling sooty white and icy blue flame, faceless yet alive with restless energy. It had been tasked by Wang Zhen to monitor the aftermath of the first day's brutal fighting among the two thousand trapped cultivators.
The plan was simple, or so it seemed: those who died after refining their Gu should transform into caterpillars—lifeforms condensed from the essence of their very beings, intended as precious resources to further Wang Zhen's design.
The spirit drifted through the shadows, scanning the area methodically, its piercing gaze slicing through the gloom and brushing over the fallen bodies.
Yet, after an exhaustive search, a troubling truth became clear—no caterpillars were found. Instead, the forest floor was littered with hollow husks, lifeless remains with all vitality—as well as spiritual energy—drained clean.
The spirit's flaming form flickered with agitation, an eruption of sharp concern blossoming in its essence."What is happening?" it demanded, voice like the crackle of frozen ice. "Who has done this? Who has stolen the life force from these bodies?"With heightened vigilance, the spirit scoured the region, seeking the unseen hand responsible for this unprecedented depletion.
Its search brought it near a figure seated calmly beneath ancient trees—Han Chen. The cultivator's posture was still, meditative, completely at odds with the violent and bloody energy that hung heavy in the air around him.
Yue Ruo said "Master, use Life Qi to mask your killing intent."
With a nod, han Chen used Life Qi to mask his killing intent.
Though Han Chen had amassed over two hundred life-force over that day alone, and accumulated enough Life Qi to teleport away from the dome. But, did not. Because, he wanted to see this through the end.
his calm prevented the spirit from detecting his true nature.
As the spirit continued its fruitless search, it found evidence of the caterpillar forms it had been sent to find—the residual condensations of those who had died in combat, not by Han Chen's hand, but whose broken Life Qi still provided some material for Wang Zhen's designs.
These fleeting creatures flickered in and out of existence, ephemeral and transient, until they dissipated into nothingness like smoke on the wind.
Frustrated and powerless to further its mission, the spirit emitted a final pulse of energy—a silent scream of anger—and vanished back into the shadows from which it came.
Han Chen's eyes opened slowly, the weight of secret victory and covert survival settling within him.
His plan worked. The flow of Life Qi masked his killing intent from the spirit.
-----TO BE CONTINUED-----