The third watch of the night brought with it a biting wind that howled through the jagged peaks of the Scarlet Cloud Sect, but inside the Broken Soul Pavilion, the air was eerily still. The silence was broken only by the rhythmic, heavy thrum of the black cauldron, which now glowed with a faint, necrotic purple hue.
Hua Sui sat before the cauldron, his eyes reflecting the dark flames dancing beneath it. In his hand, he held a Severing-Ice Stone—a crystalline ore so cold that the moisture in the air turned into frost the moment it touched its surface. This was the resource Su Qing had plundered from the Heavenly Ice Vault. To a normal Ice-Dew Peak disciple, this stone was a treasure used for gradual tempering over months. To Hua Sui, it was a snack.
"Inverse Art..." Hua Sui whispered, his voice rasping like grinding stones. "Glacial Consumption."
He didn't absorb the energy through his palms in the traditional manner. Instead, he crushed the stone into a fine, sparkling powder and inhaled the freezing dust directly into his lungs.
An ordinary Rank 5 cultivator would have had their internal organs shattered and frozen instantly by such a reckless act. But as the freezing essence touched Hua Sui's Inverse Meridians, the grey mist within him erupted. It didn't fight the cold; it devoured it. The toxic, corrosive nature of his Qi stripped the "purity" away from the ice, leaving behind only the raw, biting essence of destruction.
Ugh.
Hua Sui's body jerked violently. A layer of dark, jagged ice began to grow across his chest, piercing his skin like thousands of tiny needles. Blood welled up from the punctures, but before it could drip, it was frozen into crimson crystals. His heart slowed until it beat only once every minute, his breath becoming a faint, silver mist.
In this state of near-death hibernation, his cultivation began to climb at a terrifying pace.
Rank 5 Mid-Stage... Rank 5 Late-Stage...
He was hitting the ceiling of his current realm at a speed that would have horrified the sect's Elders. But the cost was immense. His reflection in the cauldron's polished surface showed a young man who looked less like a living human and more like a corpse carved from marble. His skin was translucent, showing the obsidian-colored veins that branched across his neck and face like a map of the abyss.
"More..." he rasped, reaching for the vials of Spirit-Refining Marrow.
He poured the glowing, silver liquid over his open wounds. The marrow, originally designed to soothe and strengthen a spiritual root, hissed as it met his Inverse Qi. It was being corrupted on contact, turned into a dark fuel for the Grey Seed in his Dantian.
As the days bled into one another, Hua Sui lost track of time. He lived in a cycle of calculated agony and forced empowerment. Every three days, Su Qing would appear like a silent ghost, dropping off more resources and leaving without a word. She was the perfect puppet—silent, efficient, and utterly broken.
On the tenth day, Hua Sui opened his eyes. The frost covering the interior of the pavilion shattered instantly, turning into a fine mist.
He stood up, his bones popping with the sound of breaking glass. He didn't just feel stronger; he felt sharper. He reached out and touched a thick iron pillar supporting the roof. He didn't use physical strength. He simply let a sliver of his newly refined Inverse Frost leak from his fingertip.
The iron didn't melt. It didn't break. It withered. The metal turned grey and brittle, crumbling into dust as if a thousand years of rust had occurred in a single second.
"This is the power of the late Rank 5," Hua Sui murmured. "Against a Rank 6, I no longer need to rely solely on traps. I can kill them with a single touch."
He turned his gaze toward the distant mountain peaks where the Great Sect Tournament was being prepared. He could see the faint glow of festive lanterns and the shimmering protective arrays of the combat arenas. To the rest of the sect, this was a celebration of talent and a chance for glory. To the man once known only as a slave, it was an all-you-can-eat buffet of geniuses.
"Su Qing," he called out into the shadows.
The girl emerged from behind a heavy silk screen, her head bowed low. "Master."
"The tournament begins in five days. I will not be entering as a Pill Slave. I need an identity. A hidden disciple from one of the minor peaks who has been in long-term seclusion."
Su Qing nodded slowly, her voice monotone. "The Blue Mist Peak is nearly abandoned. There is a disciple named Han Ming who died in seclusion three years ago. His death was never reported because the peak's deacon was too drunk to care. I can alter the records in the Hall of Records."
"Han Ming..." Hua Sui tasted the name. "Fine. From today, the slave Hua Sui remains in this pavilion, dying of poison. And Han Ming, the dark horse of the Blue Mist Peak, shall go to collect the prize."
He walked toward the door, his steps silent and predatory. He was no longer the boy who had been dragged here in chains. He was a blade, hidden in a plain scabbard, waiting for the moment to unsheathe and dye the Scarlet Cloud in the colors of a setting sun.
"Let the games begin," he whispered.