The world felt different. Smaller. Fragile. Li Yun's senses, once attuned to the vastness of the immortal realms, now recoiled at the simplest touch of the wind. His new body, young and frail, screamed in every fiber. Bones ached, muscles betrayed him, and meridians that once carried boundless energy were now sluggish, almost humanly feeble.
He rose slowly, testing his limbs. Each movement was a negotiation with a body that seemed entirely foreign. The Codex was gone—vanished in the chaos of his soul's fragmenting—but its resonance lingered faintly in his consciousness, a heartbeat away from recall. Even in this weakened state, Li Yun knew his potential was far from extinguished.
And yet, the reality was undeniable: the mortal realm did not yield to power alone. Patience, cunning, and strategy were now as important as strength. He took his first tentative steps through the forested hills, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and wild herbs. Each step reminded him that he was no longer supreme, no longer untouchable.
A sudden rustle caught his attention. His reflexes, though dulled by mortality, were still exceptional. He spun, hands ready to strike, expecting some minor predator or brigand. Instead, he saw a figure crouched in the underbrush—a boy, trembling, drenched in sweat, and staring at him with wide, uncomprehending eyes.
"You… who are you?" the boy stammered, voice small but edged with fear.
Li Yun studied him, noting the signs of cultivation—or rather, the feeble attempts at it. Not much, just the barest glimmer of energy barely forming in his meridians. A companion, perhaps, or merely a mortal witness? Li Yun's lips curled slightly, amusement flickering across his expression.
"Move closer," he said calmly. "Do not run. It will make things… unpleasant."
The boy hesitated but obeyed, sensing instinctively that flight was futile. As he drew near, Li Yun felt the stirrings of recognition—not of identity, but of necessity. This boy could serve. Not yet, not as a comrade of equals, but as a thread in the tapestry of his resurgence.
He knelt to meet the boy's gaze. "You have seen power, have you not? Something beyond your comprehension?"
The boy shook, and Li Yun could almost laugh. Pathetic, he thought. Yet even in his weakness, he allowed a shadow of protection to coil around the child, invisible and subtle. It was instinctual—those few who would stand near him, who might suffer due to his enemies, deserved his consideration, though he would never admit it.
As the boy's eyes adjusted to him, they widened further, catching sight of the faint aura now radiating from Li Yun. It was not overwhelming, not yet; the mortal vessel could not contain the full essence of his soul. Still, it shimmered, a dark pulse of power, tempered with control. The boy flinched instinctively, a mixture of fear and awe.
"What… are you?" the boy whispered.
Li Yun's gaze hardened. "Someone who will reclaim what was stolen."
He tested the flow of energy within him, feeling the remnants of the Codex's resonance flicker in his consciousness. Not enough to dominate, not enough to summon devastation—but enough to hint at what was coming. And perhaps, he thought, enough to begin the first step of a fusion.
He focused on a fragment of his spiritual energy, small, contained. From it, he pulled an essence not entirely of this world—a spark of demonic resonance, fused with a trace of his former immortality. His eye flickered unnaturally, perceiving a sliver of the future: the boy would survive threats, though barely, and would be instrumental in the trials to come.
The fusion left a strange mark, subtle but visible: a shadow pulse along his left arm. It was a reminder of his capability, a faint echo of what lay dormant. Pain flared, sharp and biting, but Li Yun welcomed it, for it reminded him that even in weakness, his body was learning, adapting.
The boy's trembling continued. "Are… are you a god?"
Li Yun chuckled softly, dark and humorless. "Far worse," he said. "Someone who will punish those who deserve it… and reward those who survive by my side."
He rose, the air coiling around him like a living cloak. His every movement, though limited, radiated authority. The boy instinctively stepped back, and Li Yun's shadow, though barely formed, stretched behind him, coiling like a protective serpent. This was the first sign of his latent sadism, the measure of his wrath yet dormant, triggered by threat. It was a whisper of the storm to come, a warning to those who would dare harm those under his watch.
A distant roar broke the fragile peace. Li Yun's eyes narrowed. Predators, or worse—cultivators scavenging the ruins, unaware of the threat he now represented. He took a step forward, each motion measured, each pulse of his aura restrained. He would not act rashly, not yet. But when the time came… even in this fragile shell, none would survive unscathed who dared challenge him.
The boy flinched as a small branch snapped behind them. Li Yun's senses, though dulled, detected it instantly. The mortal world was dangerous, yes, but he would bend it to his will. Shadows stretched further, wrapping around the boy like a silent vow. Those who would threaten him, or his companions, would awaken to horrors beyond imagination.
Li Yun allowed himself a small, fleeting thought: Shen Xuan. The name burned in his consciousness, a wound and a promise intertwined. That betrayal would not go unanswered. Each moment of weakness now was merely the eye of the storm, a necessary calm before the tempest of vengeance and ascension.
The boy looked up, eyes wide with confusion and fear, and Li Yun simply smiled—a shadowed, merciless smile, barely human in its intensity. "Come," he said. "You will learn, if you survive. The world is cruel, and you will need every lesson I can give."
As they moved through the forest, the faint glow of his fragmented soul pulsed in response to the boy's energy. Li Yun knew this path would be long, torturous, and filled with betrayal yet again. But each step, each breath, was a preparation. Soon, very soon, he would regain what was stolen. Soon, the Heavenly Gods, the treacherous disciple, and all who opposed him would taste the true depth of his wrath.
And in the shadows, even in his weakened form, Li Yun's eyes caught a flicker—a small, primal essence emerging within the boy. He smirked again, faintly, cruelly. Perhaps… he will serve well.
The mortal realm was unaware that a storm had arrived, quiet, patient, and merciless. The shadow of the divine demon had begun its awakening.