The sky was filled with dark clouds as thunder roared endlessly. The clashing of swords echoed across the heavens. Massive craters that emitted thick smoke were scattered everywhere, and around them lay countless corpses clad in blood-soaked armor, their dried blood painting a grim picture of the battlefield.
Above the sky where those craters were formed, six figures surrounded a single man, their weapons all pointed at him.
"Mandra, surrender and submit to my kingdom!" shouted a white-haired man as he raised his sword.
"I would rather die than bow to people like you—especially someone like you!"
"Mandra, think carefully about your choice. You can join us and become one of the kingdom's great generals," one of the encircling figures tried to persuade him.
"Enough, Sura! You have already betrayed me. I will never trust your words again!" Mandra roared in fury.
Black smoke began pouring from Mandra's body, devouring him completely. The smoke grew larger and larger until it formed an enormous mass in the sky.
"I've already reached my limit. Before I die, I'll take all of you with me!"
The black smoke swelled violently, its energy becoming vast and uncontrollable, threatening to explode at any moment.
The white-haired man sensed something was wrong and immediately shouted, "Damn it! He's going to self-destruct and drag us down with him. Run!"
The six figures instantly tried to flee—but they were too late.
BOOOOM!
The massive cluster of black smoke exploded, unleashing destruction across a vast area. Two of the six figures were completely annihilated by the blast, while the remaining four barely survived, their bodies gravely injured.
A gigantic crater was carved into the earth where the explosion had occurred. At the center of that crater stood a black sword—the very weapon Mandra had used in his final gamble.
The severely injured survivors hurriedly fled to tend to their wounds. Meanwhile, Surawisesa—the one who had attempted to persuade Mandra—glanced at the crater, shook his head, and turned to follow the others.
---
One hundred years later…
Two figures dressed in black, their faces covered, ran through a dense forest. One of them carried a large sack, its contents unknown.
"Brother, we've gone too deep into the forest. Isn't there a forbidden area here? It'll be dangerous if we go further," said the one carrying the sack.
"You're right. Once we reach the cliff ahead, we'll throw him down there."
They continued running until they reached the edge of a massive abyss whose depth was impossible to measure. The man carrying the sack dropped it to the ground.
"Brother, are we throwing him here?"
"This abyss should be good enough. Throw him in!"
The man lifted the sack and hurled it into the dark abyss. For a brief moment, a hand could be seen slipping out of the sack as it fell.
"Brother… will everything be alright? If the family head finds out, we're doomed. No matter what, he's still the young master," the man said nervously.
"Relax. Young Master Wuling will protect us."
"Yes… with Young Master Wuling backing us, we'll be safe from the family head."
"Besides, trash like him won't be missed. Let's go back."
"Alright, brother."
The two figures turned and disappeared into the forest.
---
Inside the dark and freezing abyss, the discarded sack lay motionless. Right beside it stood a black sword embedded in the ground.
The hand that had slipped out of the sack accidentally touched the sword. The blood clinging to its fingers was suddenly absorbed into the blade, causing it to tremble briefly.
After some time, the black sword trembled again and released black smoke like blazing flames. The smoke quickly spread from the hand that touched it, crawling into the body inside the sack.
An hour later, the black smoke disappeared. The sack covering the body also disintegrated, reduced to nothing by the smoke that had engulfed it.
Inside was a young man with black hair.
Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked around in confusion. Darkness surrounded him, and above him stretched a sky filled with countless stars.
"Where am I? Am I dead? Is this hell?"
Suddenly, a sharp pain pierced his head, and memories from several hours earlier flooded back into his mind.
"I was killed by my younger brother's subordinates… So why am I still alive?"
Earlier, he had been drinking tea when someone attacked him from behind, knocking him unconscious. While inside the sack, he had faintly heard the voices of the men carrying him—they belonged to his younger brother's own subordinates.
Mo Chen looked around again and noticed a black sword lying right beside him. The moment his gaze met the blade, he felt as if his consciousness was being pulled into it.
He snapped back to his senses and quickly crawled backward.
"W-what kind of sword is that?"
Suddenly, his body felt strange. A mass of black smoke poured out from within him like blazing fire.
"What is this? It looks like fire, but it doesn't burn me… In fact, it feels strangely comfortable."
Accidentally, Mo Chen touched a nearby rock. Instantly, the black smoke wrapped around it and reduced it to ashes.
"W-what was that? Why did the rock turn into ash? Is it because of this black flame?"
He found another rock and touched it again. The same thing happened—the smoke engulfed it, turning it into dust.
"So it really is because of this black flame! Is this my power?"
Mo Chen fell silent, reflecting on the miserable life he had lived. Everyone had looked down on him—even his own family had treated him like an outsider. He had been nothing more than a shadow in the night wind; even his death would have gone unnoticed. All of it was because he had been born without an element, unfit to become a cultivator.
"The moment they discovered I had no element, they cast me aside. And now… I have one. And it's far from ordinary."
Mo Chen looked at the black smoke covering his body, his brows furrowing.
"But how do I get rid of this thing?"
He repeatedly shook his hand, but the black smoke clung to him stubbornly—like glue.