"Tsk—how awesome it must be to be a cultivator," Shen Yao muttered blankly, gazing up at the endless blue sky.
Ye Kaishan chuckled lightly. "Do you want to be one?" He turned toward Shen Yao, amusement flickering in his calm eyes.
"Who doesn't?" Shen Yao replied, his voice carrying a hint of frustration. "If you become a cultivator, you can live long—become strong enough to protect yourself and your loved ones. It's much better than some useless martial arts."
Ye Kaishan's smile faded slightly. "So, haven't you tried to join any sect or test your talent?" he asked, his tone calm but serious.
"Talent?" Shen Yao gave a hollow laugh. "Ha! That damned word again. Of course I've checked. What do you think my talent was?"
Ye Kaishan blinked. "Umm… talent isn't everything," he said quietly. "There's no need to be disheartened."
"It was Heaven," Shen Yao sighed. "I tested when I was ten. When I placed my hand on the talent stone, the light was so dazzling that it blinded people. Some even said it surpassed the rank of Heaven."
Ye Kaishan's brows lifted slightly. "Heaven? I don't know much about the rankings, but that sounds… pretty high." He glanced at Shen Yao, a spark of surprise flashing in his eyes. Is this guy really that talented? he wondered.
Shen Yao smiled bitterly. "Once, I was part of the Yaochi Holy Land. But after eight years—when I turned eighteen—they expelled me for failing to awaken my Dao Companion.
After that, I became the 'failed genius' of the sect." His eyes dulled with old pain. "It's not uncommon for men in this world. There are plenty like me. Maybe my destined Dao Companion died before I met her."
Ye Kaishan studied him quietly. So he's training here to grow stronger. But… he isn't using any real technique. Just hitting that wooden post over and over. He sipped his tea, eyes calm.
Shen Yao stretched, glancing at the sky. "Anyway, it's already afternoon. I should get going." He stood up slowly, then turned back with a grin. "Hey, Brother Ye—why don't you come with me?"
"Me?" Ye Kaishan set his cup down and looked at him. Should I go?
Song Yan probably won't return until night… It shouldn't be a problem if I accompany him for a while, he thought. A faint smile curved his lips. "Very well. Let's go."
The two stepped out, closing the manor door behind them as they walked toward the city gate.
Meanwhile…
Inside Heavenreach Citadel, chaos rippled through the air. A sharp metallic scent—like rust and blood—lingered between heaven and earth. The atmosphere grew heavy as cultivators soared toward the outskirts, where a cluster of thatched houses lay beyond the city walls.
"Hey! What's happening? Where's everyone heading?" a group of cultivators shouted, stopping a few robed figures flying past.
"The shadows from last night have appeared again!" one shouted back. "In the poor district outside the city. They've made a hellish mess there!"
"Let's go!" the others replied, urgency in their tone as they sped toward the outskirts.
Outside the wall, the world had turned crimson. Blood painted the ground and splattered against cracked walls, dripping down in rivulets that shimmered darkly under the sunlight. The stench of iron was so thick that many cultivators grew pale as they descended.
The streets were littered with corpses—men, women, the elderly, even small children.
Their bodies lay motionless, eyes vacant, limbs twisted at unnatural angles.
Some faces were drained of all color, their skin ashen and dry as parchment, as though every drop of blood had been sucked from their veins. Others were torn apart, blood pooling around them like rivers running red.
"What's happening here…?" Song Yan's voice trembled as she stepped into the blood-soaked street.
Such a massacre...Thousands of corpses littered the ground, bathed in pools of their own blood. The crimson stench hung heavy in the air, thick enough to choke even a seasoned cultivator.
She bent on one knee beside a lifeless child, Song Yan gently lifted his cold hand. His face was pale—drained of every drop of blood, his body nothing more than a hollow shell.
Her expression darkened. "Such methods…" she muttered, eyes narrowing. "It must be the work of an evil sect."
Rising slowly, Song Yan pulled the hood of her dark cloak over her head, concealing her features from the restless wind. Her gaze swept across the broken huts and torn bodies scattered like wilted leaves in autumn.
"The method of draining blood to enhance cultivation…" she whispered, a sharp glint flashing in her eyes. "Corpse Devouring Sect."
She exhaled sharply, her breath misting in the cold air. "The blood of children is rich in life essence. They've drained them first, then slaughtered the rest…" Her tone deepened, a frown creasing her face.
"But why here?" she murmured, confusion flickering through her eyes as the metallic scent of death thickened around her.
"Hey! do any of you found anything?"
A sharp voice echoed from above.
Song Yan's instincts flared—she vanished into the shadows, her body melting into the darkness between two collapsed huts. Her heartbeat steadied, her presence dissolving as if she were part of the night itself.
"No, Senior Sister," a young cultivator's voice replied anxiously. "We didn't find anyone or any survivors."
"They're still here somewhere," the woman in the air said coldly. Dressed in flowing pink robes that glimmered faintly beneath the sunlight, she surveyed the bloody streets below. "Search every corner. Don't let anyone slip past your eyes."
The group of cultivators dispersed instantly, their robes fluttering like hunting hawks as they scoured the area, searching every ruined home and shadowed alley.
Hidden within the veil of darkness, Song Yan's eyes glinted faintly. The Corpse Devouring Sect… they're still around here. She could sense their lingering aura—thick, sinister, and hungry.
"I should leave," she thought, her tone calm but urgent. "The Holy Land won't stay idle once this reaches their ears. They'll send an elder to investigate soon."
Drawing her hood lower, she stepped silently from the shadows and darted down the blood-stained street. Her figure blurred with the wind, vanishing into the crimson mist that hung over the devastated district.
"....."
"Is this the place you were talking about to hang out?" Ye Kaishan asked with a wry smile, glancing around the quiet meadow.
"What else?" Shen Yao stretched his arms lazily, his tone relaxed. "This place is outside the city, peaceful and quiet. The air's fresh, the breeze pleasant—and that huge tree gives a fine shade. Come, sit here."
He patted the smooth stone slab beside him, inviting Ye Kaishan to join.
Ye Kaishan sighed softly as he sat down. So much for exploring the city and seeing something interesting. Looks like this afternoon will drift away just like the breeze.
The meadow rustled gently around them, golden grass swaying under the warm light of the sun. A soft current of air brushed against their skin, carrying the faint scent of earth and flowers.
"Well," Ye Kaishan murmured, leaning back and closing his eyes, "this isn't a bad place to take a nap."
He let the warmth seep into his body, the sunlight and wind wrapping around him like nature's gentle blanket.
"See? Isn't it a good place?" Shen Yao said, smiling faintly as he, too, closed his eyes. "Just as long as those nasty kids don't come running around, this place might as well be heaven."
"Hmm… speaking of those kids," Shen Yao's brows furrowed slightly as he opened his eyes, scanning the meadow.
"I haven't seen them today. Usually, by this time, they'd be rolling in the dirt or chasing each other through the grass."
A faint unease settled in his tone as the wind blew past, rustling the tall grass beneath the lone tree.
"Hmm… what's that?" Shen Yao narrowed his eyes, squinting toward the distance.
A faint silhouette wavered at the edge of the meadow, half-hidden by the swaying grass and drifting haze. The figure was blurred—almost unreal—but as Shen Yao stared intently, his expression froze.
His pupils widened. A bead of sweat slid down his temple, tracing his cheek before falling onto his trembling hand. His entire body began to shake uncontrollably.
From the shadow of the woods, a small figure stumbled out. It was a child—his leg dragging behind him, leaving a dark trail of blood across the grass. He limped forward without stopping, his steps uneven and desperate, as though sheer will alone kept him upright.
Blood trickled from a wound on his head, matting his hair and staining his face. His nose snot ran freely, mixing with tears that streamed down his cheeks. The boy's entire body trembled, his breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps.
Then—perhaps sensing a familiar presence—he lifted his head. His dim eyes met Shen Yao's beneath the towering tree.
Recognition flickered. His lips quivered, and tears welled once more as his voice broke the silence, frail and trembling.
"B–Brother… Shen Yao…"