The night stretched endlessly above the Forbidden Forest, painted with streaks of starlight and drifting mist.
Beneath a shattered tree, Xiao Wang knelt, chest heaving, the blood-soaked snow beneath him evaporating in ripples of faint black light.
The corpse of the Crimsonmane Tiger was gone—devoured into nothing.
Only its echo remained… swirling inside him.
His veins burned. His bones trembled. His breath came ragged.
It felt as if a thousand storms were tearing through his body from within.
"Ugh—ahh!" He clutched his chest, eyes wide as the black orb materialized before him once again. It floated silently, pulsing with dark radiance—beautiful and terrifying at once.
Then, like a whisper in his soul:
"Consume… or be consumed."
The orb quivered, and tendrils of darkness seeped into his palm. His vision blurred as countless fragments of the tiger's life—its instincts, rage, and strength—flooded into him.
Images flashed before his mind:
Blood. Hunt. Survival. Power.
When the pain subsided, he fell to the ground, gasping.
He could feel it—his muscles denser, his senses sharper. Even the faint hum of insects in the distance was crystal clear.
"…So this is the power to devour," he murmured, looking at his trembling hands. "It's alive… no, it's feeding."
He glanced around—the once-frozen forest now trembling faintly, as though afraid of the presence he carried.
Then came another voice. Softer. Feminine. Like wind brushing over silk.
"So the sword has chosen a new master."
Xiao Wang froze.
From between the trees, mist swirled into a shape—a slender figure draped in white, with hair like moonlight and eyes that shimmered between gold and crimson. Her bare feet didn't touch the snow.
A woman—no, not quite human. Her beauty was ethereal, but her aura was ancient, primal.
"Who are you?" Xiao Wang asked cautiously, his hand tightening on his dagger.
The woman smiled faintly, her eyes curving. "I am Mei Ruo. The guardian of the Devouring Sword's seal… or what's left of it."
He frowned. "You mean this sword… was sealed?"
She nodded, stepping closer. "For ten thousand years. Its last master was called the Celestial Sword Emperor. He waged war against the heavens themselves. When he fell, the sword devoured his very soul—and was cast into this realm, bound by divine decree."
"And now…" she tilted her head, studying him with amusement, "…it calls to you."
Xiao Wang's eyes darkened. "But why me? I have no spirit root. No cultivation."
Mei Ruo's laughter was soft, like wind chimes in snow. "Perhaps because you have nothing. The sword devours greed, arrogance, fear—but emptiness?
"She smiled. "Emptiness is pure. Perfect for rebirth."
He looked down at his hand—the same hand that moments ago had destroyed a beast far stronger than him."But this power… it's dangerous."
"Power always is," Mei Ruo said, her tone suddenly serious. "The orb within you—the Black Hole Core—is the sword's heart. It feeds on essence. Life, Qi, even souls. The more you use it, the stronger it grows. But beware…"
Her eyes gleamed faintly red.
"One day, it may hunger for you."
Silence settled. The forest whispered.
Xiao Wang clenched his fist. "If that's the price for strength… then I'll risk it."
Mei Ruo tilted her head, her expression unreadable. "You sound like him."
"Him?"
"The one who defied Heaven."
Xiao Wang gave a faint smile. "Then perhaps it's fate."
Later that night, they sat by a flickering fire in a cave hidden deep within the forest. Mei Ruo rested on a rock, half-transparent in the glow—more spirit than flesh.
"So," she said, "what will you do now, little mortal?"
"Return," he said simply. "To Windcloud Village."
Mei Ruo raised a brow. "To the ones who mocked you?"
He looked into the flames. "Yes. Because I want them to see."
She chuckled softly. "Ah… the first taste of vengeance."
"No," he murmured. "The first step to justice."
The firelight glimmered in his crimson eyes. "My sister's starving. My mother's dying. The ones who have power crush the weak because they can. If this sword can give me the strength to change that… then I'll take it."
Mei Ruo gazed at him for a long time before whispering, almost fondly, "You'll regret it one day."
"Maybe," he said, standing and gazing toward the moonlit forest. "But until then…"
He raised his hand. The orb appeared, hovering above his palm like a miniature black sun."…I'll keep walking this path."
As dawn approached, the first rays of light broke through the mist.
When he stepped out of the forest, Xiao Wang was no longer the same boy who had entered.
The weak villager was gone.
In his place stood a young man with crimson eyes, faint sword-light flowing in his aura, and an invisible storm swirling around his presence.
Far in the distance, a bird cawed—and even the mountain trembled faintly, as if bowing to something awakening within him.
"The Waste of Windcloud Village" was dead.
The Celestial Devouring Sword Emperor had taken his first breath.