For three days, Xuan Long remained inside a cheap inn tucked at the edge of Blackstone City.
The room was small. One cracked window. One rotting bed frame. The scent of mildew clung to the walls like mold on forgotten bread.
But Xuan Long didn't mind.
He didn't train.
He didn't meditate.
He simply… waited.
No ambitions stirred. No plans were drawn. He ate what little food he could buy and stared at the ceiling for hours. His body was still, but his mind churned endlessly — haunted by memories that replayed like broken echoes.
His mother's gentle smile as blood poured from her throat.
His brothers calling his name while blades stabbed through their backs.
His sister, trembling, whispering, "Big brother…"
And the laughter of the ministers.
Every breath he took was fueled not by qi — but by pain.
Until, on the morning of the fourth day, something inside him shifted.
He stood from the bed and muttered aloud, voice low, almost reluctant.
"I need to move... I need to do something."
The streets of Blackstone City buzzed with the chaos of life.
Vendors barked from roadside stalls, holding up jars of beast blood and cheap talismans. Children chased each other through alleyways, and armored guards patrolled with bored expressions. Cultivators — some powerful, some pathetic — walked proudly with blades strapped across their backs and arrogance in their eyes.
Xuan Long walked among them, unrecognized. His presence was muted. Aura-less. Invisible.
And yet… the world felt too loud.
Too alive.
Too unaware of the pain that birthed the man in their midst.
Then—
A shout.
Followed by a muffled sob.
He stopped.
Down a narrow alleyway, hidden behind broken barrels and crates, five young cultivators had surrounded a single boy.
The boy couldn't have been older than eighteen. His robe was torn at the shoulder, one eye swollen shut, blood staining his teeth. He tried to stand—only to be kicked back down by a sneering youth with a short blade in hand.
"Still standing, worm?"
"Kneel and apologize for bumping into us!"
"The Lu Family doesn't forgive disrespect!"
The name made nearby pedestrians turn and hurry away. No one interfered.
The boy spat blood.
"I-I didn't mean to… please…"
Xuan Long stepped into the alley.
His footsteps were quiet. Measured. Like a whisper in the middle of thunder.
"That's enough."
Five heads turned.
One of the Lu disciples frowned. "Who the hell are you?"
Xuan Long didn't respond to him. He looked instead at the boy—bloodied, broken, but not begging anymore. Their eyes met. Something passed between them.
Then Xuan Long finally replied.
"I should ask the same."
"Why are you attacking someone weaker than you?"
A taller Lu cultivator stepped forward, crossing his arms.
"We're from the Lu Family, trash. Our father's at Foundation Realm. You think we're afraid of some nobody with no aura?"
He grinned.
"You should've walked away."
And then—
They attacked together.
Blades slashed from both sides. Talismans burst into fire. One sent a wind slash; another tossed a chain of lightning. All aimed directly at Xuan Long.
[DING — Devour Activated]
Attacks stored internally.
Now eligible for controlled release.
Xuan Long's eyes widened. The sensation was different this time.
The flames didn't bounce back.
The swords didn't rebound instantly.
Instead… they lingered.
Coiled inside him like caged beasts.
"I can… hold it?"
The fire crackled inside his veins. The sword energy shimmered behind his eyes.
It didn't hurt.
It obeyed.
He raised a hand. Fire gathered in his palm — not his own, but stolen. Reflected. Held. Twisted.
"Your flame…" he murmured, gazing at the Lu disciple who had thrown the talisman,
"feels weak."
And then he released it.
BOOM.
The alley lit up with flame. The air shook with heat. Three Lu disciples screamed as the blaze consumed them. Their bodies flung backward into the wall, armor melted into flesh, limbs twitching.
The last two turned to run.
Xuan Long didn't blink.
He raised a hand — formed a blade out of stored sword energy — and flicked it forward.
SHLUNK.
The sword-light pierced cleanly through one fleeing back. The other collapsed from shock, barely breathing.
Silence returned.
[System Update]
Heavenly Mirror: Devour – Advanced
Host can now store, suppress, or release absorbed energy at will.
Choose between instant reflection, delayed release, or conversion to strengthen body attributes (speed, defense, flight).
System remains non-cultivation based.
Xuan Long stood over the bodies.
His breathing was calm.
His heart was still.
His thoughts, cold and measured.
"This is better…"
"Now I can choose."
"Kill or spare."
"Punish or protect."
"Control… that's what I was missing."
He turned to the boy.
Still kneeling. Still bleeding. But not looking away.
Their eyes locked again.
The boy's were filled with awe… and fear.
"What's your name?" Xuan Long asked.
The boy swallowed, voice shaking.
"M-Mu Chen… I'm 18… Qi Vein, Level 2."
Xuan Long nodded slowly.
"You fought back… even when weak."
"I like that."
He reached into his storage pouch — one of the bandits' spoils — and pulled out a small cloth bag.
He tossed it toward Mu Chen.
The boy caught it. Fumbled it open.
His eyes widened.
"T-these are… low-grade spirit stones! Why would you—?"
Xuan Long interrupted softly.
"Because I'm building something."
He turned to look at the rising sun over Blackstone's walls.
"An army."
"A force that will shake the heavens."
"Not of the strong… but of the willing."
His voice was quiet… but it struck like thunder.
"Do you want to join me?"
Mu Chen didn't hesitate.
He knelt low. Pressed his forehead to the ground.
"I will follow you."
"To death, if needed."
Xuan Long placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Good. Then rise… Mu Chen."
He paused.
And for the first time in days, a flicker of something appeared in his eyes.
Not warmth. Not joy.
But purpose.
"You are the first."