Wei Shun's eyes opened to a dim sky. Smoke lingered in the air, his nostrils flaring over it. The smell of blood clung to his throat, and he felt nauseated in his guts.
His body still ached, but the sharpest pain in his chest and limbs had dulled. A bitter taste filled his mouth, something familiar, yet unnatural.
Is it medicine?
He was unsure when he had taken it, but it didn't matter for now. He pushed himself up, almost staggering on his feet as the world spun. Around him lay the ruins of Caojing Village.
Houses torn apart. Talismans burnt to ash. Bodies half-buried in dust.
The square, once held laughter, was now nothing but sparse and silent.
At the far end, Wei Shun caught something glinting in the rubble. Half-buried in the dirt lay a cracked crimson sword. Beside it was the familiar dark dagger that killed his mother.
His heart skipped a beat. These were the weapons of that demon cultivator.
He reached down, feeling the cold touch of the dagger's drip. As he held it, it no longer tore at his veins like before, as if the ferocity within had died down.
Carrying the dagger, he bent over to pick up the crimson sword. Though it was heavy, it felt dull and lifeless. Both seemed... to have been weakened by the storm that had just passed.
When he lifted his head, his breath paused. A figure lay against the shattered remains of the village hall.
Lingyuan Zhentian.
His robes were torn, blood soaking through every seam. Yet, even half-dead, his fingers twitched and took hold of talismans, drawing faint strands of life from the few surviving beasts who still breathed nearby.
Wei Shun's hands shook, his vision turning red.
This was the man who led to the demise of his family, acting so righteous in public, but was no different from evil cultivators.
The one who had smiled at the villagers, only to carve them into fodder for his own survival.
Wei Shun's jaw trembled, eyes dripping with warm tears.
"You!" he shouted, grabbing Lingyuan Zhentian's attention.
The old man turned slowly, his face pale and lips cracked. For a moment, he was no different from a dying scholar. No different from the mortals.
"Young one..." Zhentian coughed, his voice weak but still carrying weight. "Are there survivors? Please bring them to me..."
"Survivors...?" Wei Shun stuttered, "What do you even want the survivors for? To steal their lives, for you to survive instead of them?!"
His voice grew colder as he spoke. The killing intent from his trembling body slowly manifested into reality.
"I didn't steal their life essence, boy! They offered it for the greater good!" Zhentian argued, "If not for your lives, would I have stopped the evil cultivator, Mo Fengtian?!"
"Willing gave up? You deceived them, then you killed them—"
"You should be grateful that I did, mercifully!" Zhentian heaved a breath, looking haggard and out of energy. "Without it, none of you would have lasted even a heartbeat against Mo Fengtian!"
"And without your interference, I wouldn't have to drain them fully!"
Zhentian coughed again, now with blood on his chin.
"So that's it?" Wei Shun's laugh was hollow. "Our lives, our families, in the eyes of you cultivators, are just numbers in a little balance sheet? A sacrifice ready to be given at any time?!"
"You, as a mortal, will never understand," Zhentian rasped. His eyes, still sharp despite his wounds, flickered with annoyance, "The righteous path demands sacrifice. Mortals are weak, cultivators must—"
"Must what?" Wei Shun cut him off, his voice trembling. "Must pretend to be saviors while gutting the very people you claim to protect? You're the same as him. No, cultivators are worse. At least he never lied about being a monster."
Silence dropped for a moment. Wei Shun's breathing grew heavy, his hand shaking as the dagger seemed to pulse in rhythm with his fury.
Zhentian coughed again, trying to sit up straighter while clutching his wounded waist.
"I did what was necessary. And you... You should thank me, boy. Without me, you'd be dead already."
Wei Shun stared at him, his vision worsening under the heat and tears. His words were quiet, almost like a whisper.
"Then... then why am I the only one left to bury them?"
Zhentian's gaze hardened. "Insolent brat. Do you think you can lecture me on righteousness? You wouldn't last a day in this world."
His wavering hands raised, and a talisman flew out from his fingertips, flickering weakly towards Wei Shun.
Suddenly, a streak of force deflected it aside before it split into countless strips. Zhentian's eyes flicked past the boy, confusion filling his mind. At the corner of the ruins stood a figure, arms folded, watching in silence.
But Wei Shun didn't notice. His entire world had narrowed down to the man in front of him.
"I don't care if I last a day," he said, voice shaking but steady. "I just want you dead!"
Wei Shun charged. Zhentian raised another talisman, his lips muttering a curse. This time, a ripple of pressure struck from the side, scattering the talisman's power before it could ignite.
Who is that black fellow?! How can he cancel my talismation activation?
Zhentian shivered as he helplessly watched Wei Shun close in.
The dagger's edge struck Zhentian's chest. For the first time, he felt afraid. He grabbed at the hilt, attempting to pull it, but his strength was gone.
Blood seeped through his fingers, dripping into his arms.
Wei Shun pressed forward, clenching his teeth as he forced the dagger deeper into the heart. The talismans scattered around them flickered incessantly for a while, then dimmed.
Zhentian's voice echoed in his ear, half a whisper, and another, a curse: "You... you will regret this...! Tian Ming Ling will—"
His eyes rolled back, and his body slumped against the ruins.
The dagger pulsed once more in Wei Shun's grip, as if drinking in the moment — both from Zhentian's blood, and in Wei Shun's strength.
He staggered back, his chest heaving deeply. His legs gave way beneath him, losing all his strength.
The last thing he heard was a calm voice behind him, soft yet firm.
"Good. You didn't flinch."
Darkness swallowed Wei Shun's vision. Right before he lost consciousness, a faint line burned across his vision.
[ You have slain a cultivator. Power flows against the heavens. ]
[ Anti-Cultivator System: Awakening complete. ]