They wound through narrow alleys that grew darker and more oppressive with each turn. The clatter of the city faded behind them, replaced by whispers, guttering torches, and the faint tang of blood mixed with cheap liquor. The deeper they went, the heavier the air grew — as though despair itself had soaked into the cobblestones.
While walking, the steward cast a sideways glance at the man following him. A sneer curled in his heart.
How arrogant… to follow me into my palace. How utterly stupid can one be?
Wang Chen, of course, knew what the man was thinking. He could smell the deceit on him — the way the steward's breathing quickened, the faint tremor in his shoulders.
Still, Wang Chen didn't care. He was walking into the wolf's den willingly — but this wolf would soon find its teeth turned inward.
Just as he stepped into the next alley, a faint hum echoed in his mind. A cool blue wind brushed his face like an invisible veil.
[Ding! Bearer of Great Dao Providence detected. Click to view details.]
Unconsciously, Wang Chen's thoughts triggered the response.
[Name: Lin Huang]
[Lifespan: 13 / 999]
[Race: Mortal]
[Cultivation: None]
[Talent: Undying Will, Bearer of Great Dao, Heir of Heavenly Providence]
[Abilities: Sword Heart (Infant), Lesser Dao of Fire (Infant)]
[Techniques: Dance of Seven Suns]
[Potential: Extremely High — if cultivated properly, the individual could become the Sword Saint of this generation.]
Wang Chen's eyes flickered faintly. "Lin Huang…" he whispered, tasting the name.
---
Deep beneath one of the Blood Fang Gang's outposts, a different kind of silence reigned.
Rows of chained figures hung upside down from the ceiling like livestock in a slaughterhouse, blood slowly dripping from their bodies into metallic troughs. Their skin was pale and bruised, their breaths shallow. Long tubes pierced their backs — feeding into glass containers that pulsed faintly red.
Each victim was no older than fourteen — the prime age for cultivating and awakening one's spiritual foundation. Now they were nothing more than hollowed vessels, kept barely alive. The stench of blood, sweat, and alcohol filled the air until it felt thick enough to choke on.
The iron door creaked open.
A masked man entered, pushing a wheelcart stacked with crimson vials.
His voice rang too loudly in the otherwise silent chamber. "I never understood why we keep feeding this useless trash," he said, throwing a blood-red pill toward the nearest captive. "Wouldn't it be easier to just replace them when they die?"
The pills rolled across the dirty floor, stopping just shy of the captives' reach. Despite that, every hanging figure strained desperately, stretching their weakened necks and arms. Some managed to clutch at the pills with trembling fingers; others could only stare as their chance at survival rolled away.
The masked man chuckled. His eyes glimmered with sadistic delight as he watched their frantic struggle.
He was a cripple — born without the ability to cultivate. But here, surrounded by broken prodigies with once-brilliant potential, he was a king.
"Hehehe…" His laughter echoed through the chamber, thin and vile, before he turned and left.
Only one figure remained unmoving.
In the farthest corner hung a young man. Though his frame had shriveled from hunger, his features still hinted at the handsomeness he once possessed. His eyes were hollow, staring blankly at the ceiling — empty, yet not dead.
If one listened closely, they would hear him whispering again and again, a single word drenched in despair:
"Why… why… why…"
It was as if his soul was stuck in that single question.
---
High above the facility, two veiled figures floated in the air — master and disciple.
The elder woman's beauty was mature, her every movement exuding a dangerous grace. The younger was petite but lithe, her body perfectly proportioned — soft where it needed to be, steel where it mattered.
The younger woman turned her gaze downward at the pitiful figure below, her eyes glinting like cold jade. "Let's go, Master. There's no need to kill him."
The older woman's laughter rang like silver bells, yet there was nothing gentle about it. Her ample chest shook as she laughed, an unnecessary flourish unseen by any man below.
"You've grown, little snake," she said, voice indifferent but tinged with approval. "You took everything from him — even hope. That is the mark of a true cultivator."
The young woman's lips twitched upward ever so slightly, the faintest ghost of a smile. Satisfaction glimmered there — cold and sharp.
Finally, it's over, she thought. I was getting tired of his pathetic eyes.
"Big brother, my foot," she whispered, voice dripping with contempt.
A cold wind stirred the clouds — and the two vanished, leaving not even a trace behind.
---
In the silent chamber below, the young man suddenly stirred.
His hollow eyes lifted toward the ceiling, as if sensing something beyond mortal reach. Slowly, clarity returned to his gaze. A single tear slid down his cheek and splashed onto the blood-soaked floor.
Then, the dam broke.
"Was it all fake from the start?" Lin Huang choked out. His voice cracked under the weight of betrayal.
He remembered everything — her laughter, her teasing scolds, the sunlight in her peach blossom eyes when she called him "brother."
And now… those same lips had called him useless.
At some point, the tears stopped. His breathing slowed. His eyes grew still — deep and dark as the void.
"So it was all fake," he whispered, voice trembling with restrained fury. "If you wanted my innate sword bone, you could've taken it. Why play with my heart?"
By the end, Lin Huang's words were practically shouting, his words filled with hatred.
While others didn't even spare him a glance. To them it was nothing special—every day one or two figures finally unable to bear it would go mad.
At that time, all the love that Lin Huang felt for the girl seemed to have turned into fire that seemed to burn him alive. Every moment was becoming a torture, every breath tormented him.
But no matter how much he shouted, or cursed, nothing was going to change. After shouting for a while his throat had started to hurt and a sense of dizziness hit Lin Huang, making his vision go blurry.
At some point, there was something else that he hated—it was his own weakness, his own stupidity, that he failed to see through her schemes.
Soon all of these whirlwind of emotions slowly turned into despair.
Is this how my life will end, in some nameless corner of the world?
Without even realizing, Lin Huang fainted, his eyes rolling backward.
---
Far above, the Imperial City of the Five Element Dynasty gleamed beneath a pristine blue sky.
Thousands bustled through its gates, faces filled with hope and greed alike. The air buzzed with merchants' cries and clattering hooves. But behind this facade of prosperity, shadows thrived.
In the outskirts, away from the glittering towers and clean avenues, the air grew foul — heavy with smoke, sweat, and whispers. Here, deals were made with blood instead of coin.
Among the gangs that ruled the underbelly, none were as feared as the Blood Fang Gang. Rumor claimed its leader was a close ally of the Song family — one of the Five Great Houses of the dynasty.
Song family huh..! Wang Chen lips curled upwards, from the predecessor memories, Song was an incredibly powerful family, producing multiple generals for the Imperial dynasty.
just as he was thinking, blood fang steward came to stop in front of an eerie looking hall.
with slightly cold eyes he declared, "this is the the place.."
Blood fang Steward wanted to say something more, but just than a bright white light flashed and a head fell to the ground, eyes still filled chilling coldness and a subtle grin on the face.
without sparing another glance, wang Chen walked inside his eyes flashing with cold light.
finally there was hope of extending his lifespan, this time he did not want to live again for another ten years.