The next morning, a cold mist lingered over the Azure Flame Sect.
Disciples moved in tight clusters, speaking in hushed whispers. Word had already spread like wildfire—Feng Mo, the sect's former servant, had not only survived a fall into the Blackthorn Ravine but returned wielding a terrifying bloodline power.
He had defeated Lin Zhen, an Inner Sect disciple, in a single strike.
This was no rumor. Lin Zhen now lay comatose in the Healing Pavilion, his dantian ruptured, his cultivation crippled.
Feng Mo's name, once spoken with mockery, was now laced with uncertainty... and fear.
Meanwhile, deep beneath the sect, hidden behind talisman-sealed doors, the Hall of Silent Vows stirred.
This forbidden chamber was home to the Shadow Tribunal—the sect's secret hand, responsible for executing threats before they could take root.
At its center stood a masked figure in obsidian robes, the Silent Executor.
"Feng Mo must not be allowed to awaken more veins," the Executor said. His voice was devoid of emotion, like bone scraping against stone. "His bloodline is cursed, sealed in history for a reason."
Another elder spoke from the shadows. "If we act rashly, the Eternal Bloodline may retaliate. You remember what happened to the Eastern Sky Sect…"
"I remember," the Executor said coldly. "That's why we'll use someone close to him. Someone he will not expect."
Far above, unaware of the trap being laid, Feng Mo stood before the Gate of the Tempering Grounds—an arena where outer disciples honed their skills under elder supervision.
"Name?" barked the gatekeeper.
"Feng Mo."
The elder raised a brow. "...You're not even on the entry list."
Feng Mo said nothing. He raised his hand. Blood swirled around his fingers like mist curling from a furnace. His aura struck the elder like a tidal wave.
"I'm not here to ask permission," he said.
The gatekeeper stepped back instinctively. "T-The arena is open…"
As Feng Mo stepped in, disciples inside the grounds turned in unison. Some whispered. Others backed away.
He walked to the center and spoke calmly.
"Three fights. Come if you dare."
Silence.
Then a voice rang out.
"I'll take you on, 'brother'."
Feng Mo turned slowly.
A boy with silver eyes, lean with long tied-back hair, stepped forward. His name was Yun Xiu—a rising star among the outer sect, and… once Feng Mo's closest friend.
"Didn't expect to see you here," Yun Xiu said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"I could say the same."
Yun Xiu bowed. "Then allow me to honor our old friendship… by putting you down quickly."
The duel began.
Yun Xiu's movements were sharp, fluid—a master of wind-based sword arts. His blade shimmered with spiritual qi as he moved like a whisper, too fast for most eyes.
But Feng Mo no longer moved like prey.
He dodged with inhuman precision. His blood pulsed in waves. The first and second forms of the Blood Devourer activated with flawless rhythm, countering Yun Xiu's blade strikes with bursts of raw force.
Each collision sent shockwaves through the arena.
"You've changed," Yun Xiu muttered. "But so have I."
Suddenly, Yun Xiu's blade flickered with black mist—a forbidden technique.
Feng Mo narrowed his eyes. "That's not wind qi. That's death essence…"
The realization struck.
"You're not here to spar," Feng Mo said. "You're here to kill me."
Yun Xiu's smile turned cruel. "The sect is scared of what you've become. And I agreed. You're a danger, Mo. You always have been."
Feng Mo's blood ran cold—not from fear, but from the betrayal slicing through his chest more sharply than any sword.
So even he… had turned.
"Blood Devourer's Pulse — Third Form: Crimson Bind!"
Chains of pure blood energy erupted from the ground, coiling around Yun Xiu's limbs mid-strike. He struggled, but it was too late.
Feng Mo didn't hesitate.
"Pulse Flare — Internal Rupture."
A burst of crimson energy detonated from within Yun Xiu's meridians. The boy screamed, collapsing as his sword shattered into fragments.
The crowd gasped.
Feng Mo stood above him, eyes unreadable.
"I was willing to forgive your silence all those years," he said softly. "But betrayal? That has a price."
He turned to the gatekeeper.
"Announce it. Feng Mo is no longer an outer disciple. Anyone who tries to touch me… will leave in pieces."
That night, Feng Mo returned to his shack.
A package lay waiting for him.
Inside was a parchment soaked in beast blood. Only three words were written:
"Unlock the Tomb."
His heart pounded.
The Soul Tomb… was calling again.
To be continued…
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