Li Tian awoke to a world painted in shades of gray. His body felt as if it had been run through a grinder—each bone splintered, each muscle torn, yet somehow still clinging to life. The taste of copper and dust lingered in his mouth from the impatient blood he had tasted yesterday. Above him, dull light filtered through a tattered canopy of pines, the needles whispering secrets he no longer could fully understand.
> [System Notice]
Vitality: 28%
Corruption Level: 27%
Warning: Internal hemorrhaging detected. Performance compromised.
He struggled to push himself upright. Every movement summoned agony: ribs fractured, spine bruised, and one shoulder joint hung together by a thread of sinew. Yet, the system pulled him forward. There was no rest in vengeance, only the promise of greater power at the end of every blade.
He reached instinctively for the pendant. Its jade fragment lay cold against his palm, half of the serpent's head missing. Mei Lin's symbol—lifelong reminder of what he had lost—had shattered under the force of his battle. Though the memories it once held were slipping fast, its weight grounded him.
"You fought a Celestial Envoy… and lived," the System intoned, voice soft but insidious. "Few can claim such a feat. Few should survive. Yet here you are. Do you feel worthy?"
Li Tian clenched his teeth. "I feel hollow."
"Hollow fuels the fire. Fire forges the strong."
He spat onto the ground, red ribbons mingling with pine needles. His left hand flexed, testing the injury. Numbness fought with pain. Memories fluttered: Mei Lin laughing under blossoms, Elder Zhao's talisman, his mother's lullaby at night. All began to unravel—like frayed threads of a tapestry washed in acid.
"These memories are liabilities," the System continued. "Sacrifice them to unlock deeper potential."
He did not respond. Instead, he rose on unsteady legs, searching the forest around him. Branches braided overhead, obscuring any view of the sky. The wind carried a faint fragrance of something ancient—tainted spiritual resonance that whispered of forgotten rites. He followed it, each step a struggle, each breath a ragged promise to survive.
---
1
The Cavern of Waning Light
Six days later, Li Tian found shelter in the ruins of an abandoned shrine, half-swallowed by the forest. Vines clung to moss-covered stone pillars, and muted glyphs glowed faint green, as if the spirits of the past lingered in the air. He collapsed beside the entrance, using a cracked stone block as a makeshift pillow, and drifted into a fitful sleep.
When he awoke, the shrine was empty—save for the echo of his own ragged breathing. Too weak to travel further, he knew he had to replenish his Qi or bleed out. His eyes roamed the altar at the rear: a scorched bronze brazier, blackened from age, flanked by faded murals of half-forgotten deities.
"Worship the old gods," the System whispered, "and learn their secrets. The Celestial Envoys draw power from the Heavens; you must draw from the deeper roots."
He closed his eyes and knelt before the brazier, pressing palms against the cold metal. He forced his remaining Qi to surge, attempting a minor healing technique. Pain flared—bones grinding to reknit, flesh closing wounds—but a part of him hesitated. The memories of his mother's face, Mei Lin's gentle smile, the taste of plum wine… each was a tether holding him to what he once was. If he allowed the System to erase them, he might gain power, but become something no longer human.
His eyelids fluttered open. "I'll sacrifice what I must," he murmured. "But not until I find my target."
> [Memory Preservation Threshold: 80% remaining]
"Very well. I will keep these as… entertainment."
He focused on the brazier, igniting a thread of ancestral Qi to create a small healing seal. Beneath his palms, glyphs shimmered—a pale green light enveloped him, sealing his worst injuries. The pain receded enough that he could push himself upright without collapsing. It was a temporary reprieve—he knew the age-old shrine wouldn't sustain him long. But it was enough to stand.
---
2
Tracks in the Ash
Reaching out with Soul Echo Sense, Li Tian scanned the area. Beneath the shrine and beyond, spiritual disturbances hummed faintly: bandit camps to the north, a dying forest to the west, and one presence that resonated cold and calculating—someone in the nearby mountains who possessed forbidden cultivation knowledge. A cultivator thought extinct, rumored to have sold his soul to a demon.
"Yin Qing," the System identified. "Corruption blueprint: 97%. Contact could accelerate transformation."
A memory flickered: his mother warning him as a child about traveling too far into the Five Crows Mountains—"Those woods hold more than beasts, Tian. They hold darkness."
Li Tian shook his head, the memory dissolving like mist. He had no mother now. No home. Only a path of crimson that stretched forever away.
The sun still lingered low; he had daylight to reach the mountains. His steps remained steady. Each movement awakened the shrine's ancient glyphs, which seemed to glare at him with unspoken judgement. As he departed, the altar's pale glow faded, leaving the shrine to its own decay once more.
Brambles snagged his clothes; roots tripped him. But nothing could slow Li Tian's resolve. He had already clawed his way from death. What was a broken shrine? A den of beasts? A hollow memory?
---
3
Meeting at the Lunar Ruins
By dusk, he reached the base of the Five Crows Mountains. These peaks were shrouded in perpetual twilight, legends saying the moon never fully set beneath their vault. At the foothills stood the Lunar Ruins: broken archways carved with images of a lunar deity, statues missing heads, and pits that led into darkness.
He approached a fissure where ancient runes still glowed faint silver. The flicker matched the whisper of his own heartbeat: "Corruption: 29%. You risk more than memory here."
He crouched at the entrance: damp air, the scent of mold and old death. Torchlight glimmered deeper inside. He slid into the darkness.
Rock walls closed around him, covered in moss and tiny mushrooms that glowed an ethereal blue. The path twisted downward, echoing with distant drips of water. His Soul Echo Sense bracketed every noise: the scrabble of rat claws, breath of undead guardians, and beneath it all, a pulse of forbidden Qi—dark, stifling, alive.
After what felt like hours, he entered a circular chamber. A single pillar of moonlight filtered through a shattered dome above. In that pale circle stood a man—Yin Qing. He was thin, almost skeletal, with sunken eyes that glowed like embers in the gloom. Scars carved his face, and his garb consisted of tattered robes embroidered with demon scripts. He bowed, not in greeting, but with a reverence that seemed to mock the place.
"Li Tian," Yin Qing said, voice soft yet jagged as gravel. "I sensed you would come."
Li Tian remained silent, observing the man. "You abandoned humanity," he said finally, glancing at the demon glyphs. "Why should I trust you?"
A smile flickered across Yin Qing's lips. "Trust? I died the day I carved those scripts into flesh. Now only ambition remains." He gestured at a low stone slab. On it lay a small iron box sealed by a crimson ribbon. "I know who hunted you. The Celestial Envoy. You wield power that rivals her—yet you nearly died. You need more."
Li Tian's eyes narrowed. "What do you want?"
Yin Qing's smile sharpened. "A partnership." He slid the ribbon free, opening the box to reveal a vial of ink—thick, black as oil, swirling with red motes. "Blood of the Abyssal Demon, distilled over centuries. With it, I can engrave glyphs directly onto your soul's aura, unlocking layers the System cannot reach."
The system's voice hissed: "Dangerous. Unknown side effects."
Yin Qing continued, "In exchange, I ask for a fragment of your future." He extended a shriveled hand, palm upward. In its center glowed a tiny core of violet light—the dormant seed of Li Tian's "Dream-Link Vision" from his battle against the Envoy. "I will use it to transcend temporal limits, explore timelines untouched by the System."
Li Tian's veins itched. He recognized the stolen "future self" power that had nearly killed him. "And what guarantee do I have?"
The room grew colder. "None."
The silence stretched.
> [Memory Sacrifice Trigger?]
"Proceed or abort?" the System asked.
Li Tian stared at the vial. The idea of forging demonic glyphs into his soul horrified him. Yet, without this edge, Celestial Envoys or greater cultivators would hunt him relentlessly. He swallowed hard.
"I'll do it."
---
4
Blood and Ink
Yin Qing nodded and produced a narrow blade carved from black obsidian. He exhaled slowly. "Drink."
The vial's stopper was an ancient demon's fang. Li Tian uncorked it and swallowed the thick liquid. It burned like acid as it descended—searing his throat, churning into a fury of pain that lit his gut on fire. He dropped to one knee, gripping the walls as iron clawed through his chest. His vision blurred until pale moonlight fractured into hundreds of pinpricks.
> [System Alert: Host subject to demonic corruption.]
Vitality: 15%
Corruption Level: 40%
Warning: Potential memory loss: high.
Yin Qing pressed the obsidian blade to Li Tian's right palm, carving a single glyph—demonic lines that writhed like living worms. Black ink seeped from the wound, marking his skin with twisted patterns. The glyph glowed bright crimson, then faded to a darker, pulsing hourglass at its center.
Slowly, Yin Qing drew more glyphs down Li Tian's forearm, across his chest, and along his throat—mapping them to the natural meridians of his body. Each line burned as it was cut, and Li Tian's vision nearly blacked out. With each mark, a fragment of memory flared then vanished: Mei Lin's laughter, a childhood kite, the lullaby sung by his mother—all flickered and died.
By the time Yin Qing stepped back, Li Tian's body was a canvas of living script—each glyph a doorway to demonic power. He collapsed.
---
5
Awakening Demon's Resonance
When Li Tian awoke, sweat drenched his body, and a low moan escaped his lips. His limbs felt heavier, as if gravity itself had twisted. He pressed a hand to his chest where one glyph throbbed. The demonic ink pulsed, spreading warmth like a malignant heartbeat.
"System Override: Demonic Glyph Layer Detected."
> "Warning: Integration failure imminent."
He gasped. All around him, the shrine's runes became perceptible—stone carvings reacting to the demonic energy. The shrine's aura, once benevolent, curdled into corrupted waves.
Yin Qing knelt beside him. "Speak."
Li Tian's voice came as a rasp. "Do I regret it?"
The demon glyphs on his skin writhed, as if recognizing the question. A wave of raw power surged through him; his blood boiled, bones stitching faster than the System could repair.
He found his balance, standing as if reborn. The forest air crackled around him. He thrust out a hand, and a pillar of black flame erupted—no, not flame, but condensed negative qi, shaped like a serpent's coil. It twisted toward Yin Qing's demonstration stone.
Yin Qing inhaled sharply. "You… you surpassed expectations."
> [Demonic Resonance: Activated]
Skill Unlocked: Abyssal Serpent Veil (Level 1).
Li Tian inhaled cool air. Every breath tasted of iron and ash. The world felt newly raw, edges sharper, colors drained. He looked at his palms: demonic glyphs glowed below the surface of his skin, weaving through the System's own sigils like parasites usurping a host.
He tested another skill—closing his eyes, drawing in spiritual energy from the corrupted runes around him. His body inhaled the dark power, muscles tensed, and when he opened his eyes, they shone with an inner fire. He struck the ground with a foot, and a wave of void-serpent energy spread outward, reducing moss to dust, splintering stones in a widening circle.
The ground trembled. A low howl answered him from the forest depths—an omen or a challenge, he did not know.
---
6
The Price of Power
While the new skills took hold, Li Tian felt strange—untethered from some essential part of himself. He remembered having a name more intimate than his own, someone calling him brother, someone dying for him… but the faces, the voices, flickered then vanished.
Yin Qing knelt again. "You see now. Power demands sacrifice. You have paid with memories of humanity. In time, you will pay with feelings: love, sorrow, regret—leaving only hunger."
Li Tian swallowed. "Will I lose everything?"
Yin Qing's eyes flickered. "Given your current course, you already have." He reached into his robes and produced a delicate white feather—one of the few items the shrine still held. "Keep this. When all else is forgotten, let it remind you of who you once were."
He pressed the feather into Li Tian's palm. The moment their skin touched, a shard of memory sparked: a picnic by a lake, cherry blossoms in bloom, Mei Lin's gentle voice calling his name. Just a shard—gone as quickly as it came.
Li Tian clenched his jaw and buried the feather in his robes. "Thank you."
The demon glyphs pulsed, feeding on his hesitation.
> [Corruption Level: 45%]
He forced himself to walk away from Yin Qing, each step slower, as if the mountain itself fought to pull him back. With every stride, the world shifted: trees groaned in agony, and the moonlight flickered through the canopy like a tortured spirit.
He murmured to the forest, "I still exist."
---
7
The Rupture Between Worlds
Li Tian descended from the mountains under a sky stained by blood-red clouds. The path took him through villages and farmland whose inhabitants had never before encountered someone like him. Mothers pulled children away. Farmers dropped sickles, fear and awe flickering in their eyes. In his wake followed a wave of spiritual dissonance—so potent that crops withered in patches, rivers darkened for a moment, and small animals fled en masse.
He welcomed the darkness.
As he passed a collapsed shrine dedicated to a water deity, he heard a ripple in the spiritual currents. Narrowing his senses, he realized the shrine itself was alive—its deity awakening to protest the intrusion of his demonic resonance. A low roar erupted as water from a nearby stream surged upward, forming a pillar that struck the shrine's keystone. Stone groaned; cracks spidered across the carved images of the forgotten god. The temple collapsed in a shower of dust, and a woman cloaked in azure robes burst forth, arms raised to pacify the rage of the spirit.
Her gaze settled on Li Tian. For a heartbeat, her eyes widened—recognition, perhaps. Before he could react, she chanted a seal, and a torrent of water shot like a spear toward him.
He sidestepped, flames of Abyssal Serpent Veil igniting behind him. The water spear collided with the veil, steam hissing as they neutralized each other. He advanced, eyes glowing violet from the demon ink beneath his skin.
"Who are you?" she demanded, voice ringing with authority.
Li Tian's lips curved. "Just a traveler."
The water priestess braced herself. "You corrupt this land. Your aura reeks of blood and ruin. I cannot let you pass."
He laughed—a low, gravelly sound. "Then stop me."
She summoned droplets of water around her, forming a shield that rippled in serpentine patterns. "By the decree of the river spirit, I banish you."
He slammed a fist into the earth. The ground shattered, releasing a surge of corrupted energy that tore through her water barrier. With a flick of his wrist, a whip of black-inked qi shot out, cracking her seal formation. Water exploded in every direction, drowning the altar. She was thrown backward, limbs flailing.
Li Tian stepped through the aftermath. The shrine lay in ruin, its river spirit silenced. He looked down at the fallen woman—pale, drenched, but alive. She coughed, rising on trembling legs.
He lowered his head in respect. "I am not interested in killing you."
She gaped, her azure robes torn. "Then you are a monster."
He exhaled. "Monsters finish what they start." With that, he turned and continued his journey.
---
8
Nightmares of the Abyss
That night, Li Tian slept under a sky so dark the stars seemed to hide. When he closed his eyes, visions came unbidden: he saw a vast black ocean, the horizon pierced by jagged black spires. On a throne of fused bones sat himself, hollow-eyed, crowned with broken chains. Endless souls writhed beneath him, begging for release. A voice echoed: Your path is sealed—you are the harbinger of ruin.
He jerked awake, lungs heaving. The world around him—his tattered cloak, the rough earth—reminded him he was still alive. But alive in what form? The demonic glyphs tingled under his skin, urging him onward down a path of no return.
> [System Alert]
Dream-Link Vision: triggered.
Corruption Level: 49%.
He forced himself to rise, shaking off the shadows. There was no time to linger in this dread. He fought the urge to collapse, stepping forward into the night's embrace.
---
9
Journey to the Bleeding Gates
Li Tian traveled for five days, crossing rivers that ran red as coldsighted blood and plains dotted with deserted temples. Wherever he went, people fled at the sight of his violet eyes and demonic aura.
Finally, he arrived at the Bleeding Gates—a border outpost marking the line between mortal cultivators and those who trafficked in darker arts. Two rusted gates guarded the pass, each carved with scenes of death and sacrifice. Behind them, a caravan of black tents rose against the dusk, illuminated by flickering torches.
A tapestry of activity filled the camp: soul merchants bartering for essences, body brokers selling limbs to culturers, and mercenary bands sharpening blades in eager anticipation of greater profit. The stench of rot and incense was overwhelming—death sanctified by blood.
Li Tian's purpose here was clear: to gather information on the Crimson Sky Clan's operations. Rumor had it their soul caravans passed through these gates weekly. Tracking them would lead him closer to Grand Elder Xun's fortress.
He wove through the crowd, his Soul Echo Sense painting a vivid tapestry: greed pulsed like a drumbeat; fear shrank like a dying ember; excitement crackled like flint against steel. Every trader hawking souls recognized him as an omen of ill fortune. At least eight claimed they had heard he was a ghost set loose by Heaven to devour sinners.
A gaunt figure approached him—a merchant draped in moth-eaten robes. "Stranger, you seek Crimson Sky information?" Her voice rasped like dry leaves. She smelled of rotting fruit and old sorrows.
Li Tian's gaze darkened. He reached out, fingertips brushing her collarbone gently. A spike of demonic resonance shot through her, and her eyes rolled back as he harvested her fear and regret. When she recovered consciousness moments later, her eyes were vacant—usaibly broken.
"Tell me what you know," Li Tian commanded.
She trembled. "They… they send their shipments through South Pass. They—"
He ended her life with a casual flick, Soul Harvesting Grip ripping her essence like a ripe fruit. Her body slumped, and a ghostly wisp fled skyward. Seconds later, he twisted the wisp and trapped it in a jade bottle marked with Crimson Sky's sigil—proof of his method.
> [HATE POINTS +3,500]
[Soul Harvesting Grip → Level 5]
[Corruption Level: 53%]
He crushed the bottle in his palm. The hush that followed felt like the breath of the grave. Camp followers scattered, murmuring that the demon had come for their souls. Li Tian turned and strode through the gate, leaving screams echoing behind.
---
10
Reflections in a Cursed Lake
Steel-gray dawn. He paused by a shallow lake whose surface was as black as ink, reflecting the broken branches overhead. The water—stained by centuries of offerings—was said to show the truth of one's soul.
He knelt, dipping his hand into the icy depths. The ripples carried faces: first Mei Lin's gentle expression, then his mother's worried gaze, and then his own sane face before the System corrupted him. Each dissolved into static—memories he no longer fully grasped.
He squeezed his eyes shut. Pain flared as each flicker vanished. He felt tears—but did not know if they were his own.
> [System Alert: Emotional responses suppressed.]
"Feel nothing. Only act."
Li Tian opened his eyes. The lake's surface was calm again, reflecting only the gray sky. If he stared long enough, he might see the face he once was. But the glass shattered in his mind the moment he focused.
He rose, dropping his hand. "I am nothing," he whispered. "Nothing but the path."
A sudden splash behind him. Footsteps. He turned to see a cloaked figure emerging from the treeline—a young woman with silver hair and eyes like molten gold. She surveyed him with calm and curiosity, not fear.
"You tread where no mortal should," she said. "Why do you venture alone into this desolation?"
He studied her. She wore a simple white gown, wet from wading through marshland. She had no weapons visible—no cultivation aura to speak of. Yet in her presence, the air felt cleaner, lighter.
"I seek to end the Crimson Sky Clan," he said. "To destroy the pillars of this world."
She tilted her head. "Often the path to destruction is one that leads only deeper into darkness. What will you become when nothing is left to burn?"
Her words stung more than any blade. He silenced his heart. "I will become the storm that remakes the world."
She smiled faintly. "Beware the storm. It leaves only ruin—and sometimes, even the storm itself forgets what it once fought for."
Before he could respond, she vanished into the mist as though she had never been.
Li Tian blinked, his insides twisting. The forest grew colder, as if her departure took warmth with it.
---
11
The Whisper of a Shattered Dawn
He resumed his journey at first light, leaving the cursed lake behind. Each step felt heavier, as if the world pressed down on him, weighing him with unseen chains.
"Corruption at 59%," the System warned. "Memories of love and compassion nearly extinguished."
Li Tian did not care. In his mind, only one word remained crystalline: revenge. He would pour his hatred into the gut of the cultivation world and watch it bleed. Only then might he remember something of who he was, hidden beneath the layers of blood and ink.
He walked until the sun dipped low, the horizon painted crimson. Ahead, the path split: one road led to a bustling city that served as a Crimson Sky outpost, where he could gather more intel—or challenge lesser cultivators to hone his new abilities. The other wound toward a desolate valley known as the "Wailing Hollow," where fugitives and heretics found refuge.
He paused, toes brushing the dust. For a heartbeat, the world stilled. He could feel the ember of a memory flicker—his mother's lullaby, Mei Lin's laughter—both dying, but fighting to live.
He closed his eyes. "Which path?"
No answer came from his lips. Only the System's cold prompt: "Choose. Survival demands forward motion."
He opened his eyes, violet embers glowing. "To the city," he whispered. "But not as they expect."
---
12
Prelude to Blood and Flame
Nightfall swallowed him as he approached Silk Veil City, a mid-sized metropolis known for its red lantern festivals and jade export business. Now, its streets teemed with Crimson Sky banners—crimson dragons coiled around black serpents—marking it as a stronghold in the clan's network.
Guards in maroon robes eyed him with suspicion. At his approach, their formation tightened. A bruise-purple rooster crowed from a nearby rooftop, the only living sound before alarm bells rang.
> [System Alert: Host detected as threat.]
"Immediate exfiltration recommended."
Li Tian's lips curled into a twisted half-smile. "Not today."
He thrust his palm forward. Abyssal Serpent Veil ignited beneath his skin, and from his fist shot a tendril of black flame, laced with flickers of violet. It seared through the guards' formation—two crushed to ash, three thrown into walls so hard that iron bars shattered.
The city erupted in chaos. Civilians screamed, scattering like frightened mice. Cultivators rushed from nearby compounds, flinging talismans and spewing qi. But none could stand against the brutal swirl of demonic energy that surrounded him. Each slash of his blade sent pillars of corrupted flame twisting into the sky.
Smoke choked the streets. Silk banners burned, painting the night sky red. The wails of dying men echoed against stone walls as the first act of his conquest unleashed carnage upon the city.
He paused in the central square, heart pounding, body still resonating with the aftershock of his power. The aqueduct fountain at its center—once a symbol of prosperity—ran red, fed by rivers of spilled blood. He knelt and scooped up the water, tasting it: iron, fear, smoke.
A voice in his mind whispered with-sad amusement: "You truly have become… a fallen god."
Li Tian swallowed. "Then let them tremble before their god."
He rose, eyes fixed on the western gates—where the Crimson Sky leadership would either flee or attempt to rally a counterattack. His path was set: find Grand Elder Xun, slay him in his fortress, and watch the clan's wings burn. Then, perhaps, he might discover what he had lost along the way.
The city's screams faded behind him as he strode forward, each step guided by a hunger that had no name but made his heart beat so loudly he feared the world would hear it.
> "Onward," he whispered to the night. "Onward, into the ashes of the world."
And the sky, once crimson, wept black rain in solemn witness.