Dong City was bustling with activity and rumors ever since the announcement spread like wildfire — an ancient temple, long buried under layers of time and forest, had been unearthed beneath the city's roots. The elders of the three great families — Su, Mo, and Xun — convened for an emergency council. The temple was unlike anything ever recorded in their scrolls. Its presence radiated a strange, archaic aura, untouched by modern cultivation arts. Every elder could sense it: there was something both divine and dangerous sealed within its walls.
Fearing the unknown power inside, and the risk to their own lives, the patriarchs decreed that no cultivator above the age of 40 would enter. "Let the youth face the future," Su-Family's elder had said. "Their destiny lies within that ancient threshold."
The news spread through Dong City like wildfire. All cultivators under forty, from nobility to lone wanderers, began preparations. Everyone wanted a piece of whatever secret treasure or legacy was hidden within.
Li Wei, walking through the dark alleys cloaked in commoner's robes, overheard a group of excited cultivators discussing the temple. He paused, and a slow, demonic smile spread across his face. His crimson eyes, hidden behind the black locks of his long hair, shimmered faintly.
"So, fate finally dares to crawl into my path," he muttered. "An ancient temple… untouched, unguarded by elders… and filled with secrets."
He clenched his fist gently — red veins pulsed slightly through his palm. Half of his demonic body art was already complete, and he needed powerful ancient energies to refine the other half. This temple might just be the final crucible he required.
The temple wouldn't just be a proving ground.
It would be a harvest ground.
And Li Wei was ready to reap.
The hall of the Su family was filled with tension and purpose. Many elite young cultivators, each under the age of forty, stood in two neat rows, their faces a mix of discipline and ambition. The walls of the room were carved with ancestral murals, and the scent of burning incense lingered faintly in the air. At the front, on an elevated dais, sat Su-Shen—an imposing man with a sharp jawline, silver-flecked black hair, and eyes that carried the weight of many battles and many regrets.
He sat like a ruler of old, dressed in crimson and gold robes stitched with protective runes. His fingers were steepled beneath his chin, his gaze cold and contemplative as he scanned the cultivators before him. These were not ordinary disciples—they were handpicked, the pride of the Su family's younger generation, honed for moments like this.
With a deep, authoritative voice that echoed in the silent hall, Su-Shen declared, "That ancient temple... we don't know what lies within. But the families have agreed—only those under forty may enter. That means this task falls to you. You carry the name of the Su family. You must bring back not just something… but the best thing."
The weight of his words filled the room. Every cultivator present bowed in solemn acknowledgment, saying in unison, "Yes, Elder Su-Shen!"
He looked at them, but in his mind, thoughts churned like a storm. This is not just about honor, he thought grimly. This is my last chance. I have lost too much… my niece injured, my nephew killed. If I do not gain something that reestablishes our dominance in Dong City, the Su family's influence may crumble. My brother will return soon… and I must not be seen as the one who failed to protect our bloodline.
Su-Shen's fists tightened on the armrests of the chair. Behind his calm demeanor was desperation burning like an unquenched fire.
He stood slowly. "Prepare yourselves. You leave at first light."
Outside the grand hall, the wind picked up. Somewhere far away, in the direction of the forest temple, an ominous energy pulsed.
In the dense, shadow-laced heart of the jungle, where even the sunlight struggled to break through the tall canopies, a quiet fire crackled. Its flickering glow danced on the bark of ancient trees and illuminated the face of a lone boy sitting cross-legged beside it. This was Li Wei.
He calmly rotated a skewer of sizzling meat above the flames, the aroma of roasted flesh rising with the smoke into the still air. The savory scent was intoxicating, thick with wild spices and something darker—something more primal. A subtle, twisted smile played at the corner of his lips as he stared into the fire, lost in thought.
A few days ago...
He had ventured into the deeper, more dangerous part of the forest—territory claimed by beasts that even most seasoned cultivators dared not approach. There, near the edge of a crystal spring, he had seen a small demonic beast, a cub barely the size of a wolf, its scaled body gleaming under the sun. It chirped and played among flowers, unaware of death approaching.
Li Wei hadn't hesitated. There was no mercy in his eyes—only cold calculation. With a swift, silent movement, he ended the creature's life. He didn't kill out of hunger. He did it for something far more complex—power, provocation… and practice.
That very night, he built a small fire under the cover of trees and roasted the beast's flesh on iron skewers. The smell of demonic meat—a rare delicacy—was rich and strange. It spread quickly, carried by the forest winds through leaves and branches. But it reached more than just wandering spirits. It reached the mother.
She was a massive demonic beast, a towering creature with six burning eyes and claws that could tear through mountains. The moment the scent touched her, she froze. Her entire body trembled as realization dawned. That was her child's blood in the air. Her roar split the night sky as she thundered across the forest, driven mad by grief and rage.
And then… all hell broke loose.
In her fury, she attacked every human encampment she could sense, believing any one of them responsible. Her wrath sparked chaos—humans retaliated, armies of cultivators marched into the forest to kill the rampaging demon. A great battle unfolded in the wilderness, blood painting the trees, both human and beast falling alike.
But in the midst of it all—silent, invisible, untouched—was Li Wei.
He moved between the shadows of conflict, harvesting spirit cores from the fallen, looting the bodies of the dead, feeding on the chaos he had so subtly ignited. While warriors perished and beasts were slain, he grew stronger. He used the conflict like a farmer harvesting a field—cold, methodical, and merciless.
And now, back at the fire, he took another bite of meat, his eyes glowing faintly in the firelight.
"It's always the innocent ones that bring the most destruction," he murmured, amused.
The forest was still again—but not peaceful. Somewhere, more beasts had begun to stir. The scent of blood and roasted flesh still lingered. And deep in the forest, something even older… something ancient… had opened its eyes.
Li-wie ate a piece of meat and drank some liquor, he looked up at the sky and recited a poem.
He walks where angels fear to tread,
With blood-stained hands and eyes of dread.
No vow too sacred, no soul too dear,
He trades it all — for strength, not fear.
He burned his past to light the way,
Through cursed night and darker day.
A demon cloaked in mortal guise,
With dreams that scorch the very skies.
As soon as the last lines of the ancient poetry faded into the cold night air, Li Wei remained motionless. He stood with his hands behind his back, eyes fixed on the starlit sky above the jungle. The flickering firelight near him had long died, and the smoke had disappeared into the shadows. Not a single leaf rustled; it was as if even the night held its breath, listening to the silent storm brooding inside him.
He didn't sleep. He didn't blink. He just stood there, like a statue carved from fate itself, meditating over the chaos he had brewed and the storm yet to come.
By morning, Dong City's jungle had turned into a buzzing hub of activity. Cultivators of all kinds—dressed in vibrant robes, carrying weapons blessed with spiritual runes—gathered at the entrance of the ancient, half-buried temple. Its structure was colossal, wrapped in creeping vines and covered with symbols no one could decipher. The thick stone doors had finally opened after centuries, revealing a yawning darkness within.
Among them were the elite disciples of major clans, mercenaries, rogue cultivators, and secret sect assassins, all with one goal: treasures of the old world—techniques, relics, pills, weapons… or even immortality.
Su family, xun family, Mo Family—every power had sent their strongest under-40 warriors. There was no alliance here, only tension masked by politeness, like wolves in sheep's clothing. Everyone knew: once inside, betrayal was not only expected—it was strategy.
As the cultivators poured into the temple, its enormous stone hallways seemed to twist and shift, each team getting pulled into different paths by the temple's own will. Some laughed nervously, some gripped their weapons tightly, and some had already vanished without a trace, as if swallowed by the walls themselves.
Li Wei walked in last. Unlike the others, he wore simple red and white robes and carried no obvious weapons. His presence was quiet—so quiet, it was terrifying. He didn't form a team. He didn't speak. The shadows welcomed him like an old friend.
Hours passed.
Inside the ancient halls, time felt broken. Light didn't behave naturally. In some places it flickered like fire; in others, it felt like it stood still. Strange paintings moved when not being looked at. Statues whispered if one stood close. The deeper one went, the more the pressure increased—some cultivators' minds cracked before even facing an enemy.
Li Wei moved alone, his sharp senses alert. He passed several destroyed hallways, places where traps had already been triggered—either by greedy fools or unlucky pioneers. Skeletons lay torn apart. Spirit stones, weapons, even bodies were ignored by him. He was searching for something else.
But then…
As he turned into one of the narrower, darker corridors lined with murals of heavenly wars and hellish beasts, a silent gust of killing intent struck him.
Without warning—a blade flew directly toward his neck from behind.
It wasn't just any blade—it was made of spiritual bone, coated in demonic aura, so fast and silent it bent light itself. Li Wei's eyes narrowed. With a half-twist of his body and a sudden wave of internal qi, he dodged—but just barely. The edge sliced a thin line across his cheek, drawing a drop of blood.
Instantly, eight shadows jumped at him from all sides. Assassins—cultivators trained not for battle, but for elimination. Each step they took was silent, their eyes dead, and their attacks precise. They weren't here for treasure. They were here for Li Wei.
Their coordination was perfect—flames, wind blades, gravity seals, poison mist—all aimed at pinning him down in a single moment.
But they hadn't accounted for what Li Wei had become.
The ground cracked under him as he forcefully unleashed a burst of raw physical force, dodging the seal and leaping upward toward the temple wall. As he landed mid-air, he twisted, drawing his hand through the air—and a spear of blood and bone formed in his palm.
He threw it without aiming.
It pierced through two assassins instantly. The others attacked again—but Li Wei was gone. He blurred behind one of them and drove his fist through the man's back, crushing his heart. Blood sprayed across the ancient murals.
The fight lasted less than a minute.
Panting softly, his robes stained with blood, Li Wei leaned against a broken pillar. He turned his head to look behind—
and froze.
There, standing in the dim torchlight, was someone he never expected to see. Their face was familiar, painfully so, yet changed by time… and hatred.
Their eyes glowed not with rage, but with something more terrifying—a personal vendetta.
"Li Wei…" they said, voice filled with restrained fury. "You were supposed to be dead in the northern valley. But now, I get to finish what should have ended ago."
Li Wei's lips curled slightly, not in fear—but in interest.
The ancient temple suddenly felt smaller. The hallway darker.
Something old was about to awaken.