[POV: Yao Yazhu]

  I rode my sword into the sky, the wind tearing past me as the ground shrank below. Sword flight was a privilege reserved for those in the Qi Refinement Realm, and under normal circumstances I would have taken pride in it. Today, my chest felt heavy instead.

  I arrived at the agreed location where the Phantasm Star Sect’s cultivators were supposed to be waiting. I didn’t descend immediately. Instead, I landed some distance away and slipped into the forest bordering the clearing. The moment my feet touched the ground, I sheathed my sword and snapped the special iron bands back onto my wrists, suppressing my cultivation down to the Qi Gathering Realm.

  None of my fellow sect members knew my true realm, nor my identity as a Shadow Corps operative. That ignorance was intentional. The Shadow Corps handled too much blood and filth; it was better for everyone if I remained a harmless-looking sect disciple in their eyes.

  I moved through the forest with ease, my steps light and measured. Then I stopped.

  The smell of blood hit me like a wall.

  My brows furrowed as instinct screamed at me to be cautious. I concealed my presence completely, layering illusion over my aura until even I could barely sense myself. My heart pounded despite my efforts to calm it. Ever since being marked by fate through Yakuza Man’s interference, paranoia clung to me like a second skin. I knew, with dreadful certainty, that my life could end at any moment now.

  I inched forward, using the trees for cover, until the scene ahead finally came into view.

  My breath caught.

  The cultivators of the Phantasm Star Sect were all dead. Every last one of them. Their bodies were strewn across the clearing in grotesque poses, some missing limbs, others torn open, terror permanently etched into their faces. Blood soaked the ground, dark and sticky, carrying a stench that made my stomach churn.

  At the center of it all stood two cultivators reeking of demonic qi, casually arguing amidst the carnage.

  “Big sis, want a taste?” the man said cheerfully. He was holding a heart, still dripping, and took another bite as if it were a piece of fruit.

  “That’s disgusting,” the woman replied with a sneer. “Keep it to yourself, you cannibal.”

  “Oh come on,” he laughed. “That’s uncalled for.”

  My fists clenched.

  The woman tilted her head. “Hey, someone’s still alive. You should do your job properly.”

  I followed her gaze and saw a commoner from Xincheng. One of the hopefuls who dreamed of becoming an outer disciple of our sect. Before he could even scream, his skull was crushed beneath a single stomp.

  I slowly removed the iron bands from my wrists again, slipping them back into my storage ring. My qi surged, restrained but ready.

  “Oh?” the man said suddenly, licking blood from his fingers. “Yeah, you are right. Look at this. Someone’s still alive.”

  He walked toward a woman lying on the ground, one of my sect sisters. Her body trembled, her eyes filled with tears as they stared straight in my direction. It was coincidence. It had to be. And yet, it felt like she was looking at me, silently begging.

  ‘Save me.’

  My nails dug into my palms.

  I turned away.

  A wet crunch echoed behind me as her skull was crushed in a single blow.

  I didn’t look back. I couldn’t. I was outnumbered, and facing two demonic cultivators head-on would have been suicide. I retreated deeper into the forest, forcing myself to move, even as fury and shame burned through my chest.

  I etched their faces into my memory.

  I swore, deep in my heart, that I would take revenge.

  However, it seemed I had been naive.

  The moment I leaped off the opposite end of the forest, just as I was about to ascend with my sword, an old man with fiery red eyes intercepted me midair. He didn’t even draw a weapon. With a casual wave of his hand, my body was seized by an invisible force, and I was sent plummeting straight down.

  Gravity.

  It was a principle I understood better than most, given the foundations of the Phantasm Star Sect’s techniques. I twisted in midair, drew my sword, and executed a series of light footwork maneuvers to soften the fall. Even so, when I landed, the earth cracked violently, caving in beneath my feet as they sank deep into the ground. Pain shot up my legs despite my quick reaction.

  I barely had time to steady myself before instinct screamed again. I parried a projectile needle that shot toward my face, the force rattling my arm. The cannibal from earlier stepped out from my blind spot, his grin wide and bloodstained.

  “Ha ha ha ha ha~! There’s more where that came from!”

  A storm of needles followed. I spun my sword, starlit threads unraveling around my body as I deflected them in rapid succession. Sparks scattered through the air, and the sound of metal striking metal rang sharply in my ears. I forced myself not to panic and shifted my focus to the greatest threat.

  The old man hovered above me, his red eyes burning as if they could see straight through my soul.

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  “Kneel,” he said.

  I didn’t wait to see what would happen next. I activated a movement technique, leaving behind an afterimage as I retreated back toward the forest. My mind raced as I assessed the situation. All three of them were at the peak of Qi Refinement. The old man was undoubtedly at a higher realm, forcibly suppressed by the Earthly Seal Domain. Even restrained, his pressure alone was overwhelming.

  Still, running blindly wasn’t working.

  “Hey, handsome,” a teasing voice called out. “You’re going in the wrong direction.”

  I blinked, and the forest vanished. In its place was an open clearing, my cover stripped away in an instant. Illusion. I’ve been made to believe I was running to the forest, but that was not the case. The woman stood before me now, her posture relaxed, her smile lascivious and predatory.

  “Such a pity,” she said softly. “You’re quite handsome too, but you have to go now.”

  The air above me distorted.

  “Be crushed,” the old man said from directly overhead.

  An immense pressure slammed down on me, pinning me to the ground as if the sky itself had decided to collapse.

  “Ninefold Gravity Press.”

  My bones screamed. I roared and unleashed everything I had left, recalling the image burned into my mind from before, the descent of judgment I had witnessed with my own eyes.

  “Starplasma Severance!”

  Starlight erupted from my sword, surging upward in a brilliant arc. At the same time, there was a sickening crack as my shin broke under the crushing force. My balance faltered at the worst possible moment. The attack missed its mark, only shearing off the old man’s arm instead of cleaving through him entirely.

  The pressure vanished abruptly. I vomited blood and collapsed to my knees, my sword barely supporting my weight. My vision swam as the pain caught up to me.

  Ah. So this was it.

  This was my limit. I had been lucky that Yakuza Man hadn’t killed me earlier. Against demonic cultivators like these, outnumbered, I never truly stood a chance. In fact, it would have been cleaner to end things myself now, before they could do worse.

  The old man drifted closer, his expression curious rather than angry as he landed on the ground.

  “I commend you for your effort,” he said. “What is your name, warrior?”

  There was no reason to answer a demon. I bit down hard, crushing the pill hidden between my teeth.

  Before I could finish, the woman appeared in front of me and jammed her hand into my mouth, forcing it open. Blood spilled from my lips as she pried the pill free, holding it up with an amused laugh. I tried to swing my sword, but sharp impacts struck my joints and vital points in rapid succession. Needles. My limbs went numb, my body refusing to respond.

  “Oh my,” the woman said lightly. “He was planning to commit suicide.”

  She examined the pill, now revealed in the shape of a false tooth.

  “We can’t have that,” the needle-wielding man said as he finished reattaching the old man’s arm with unsettling ease.

  The old man nodded, looking down at me as if I were a specimen. “Fix him too. I’m intrigued by the Phantasm Star Sect’s techniques. I might find inspiration in them.” His gaze sharpened. “We’ll bring him back to the cult after we acquire the Meteor Child.”

  So in the end, it all circled back to that child.

  I lay there, unable to move, unable even to clench my teeth in defiance. I wanted to blame my luck, to curse fate for its cruelty, but deep down I knew the truth.

  This wasn’t misfortune.

  This was the consequence of my choices.

  “Hah~!” I couldn’t help it anymore, and laughter tore out of my chest. “Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha~!”

  “Is there something funny?” the woman asked.

  I answered her with a wide, unhinged grin that I couldn’t suppress. “Nothing at all. It’s just the irony of all this. Do you know? I just tried to assassinate the Meteor Child, and I failed. I didn’t just fail a little. I failed completely.”

  The laughter surged again, louder and more distorted than before. “Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha~!”

  Even as the sound left my mouth, a part of my mind recoiled in horror. This wasn’t me. I would never speak so carelessly, especially not in front of enemies. I prided myself on restraint, on control. The realization struck me a heartbeat later, cold and humiliating.

  I was under an illusion spell.

  The irony was almost painful. My sect had built its entire foundation on illusion arts derived from the movement and deception of the stars, and now here I was, being interrogated by an illusion of all things. As a member of the Shadow Corps, it was downright embarrassing. Worse still, while my deeper secrets were protected by seals that erased themselves when probed, I was being questioned as a disciple of the Phantasm Star Sect. That meant I’d be compromising my own sect.

  The old man’s voice cut through my manic laughter. “Interrogate him about the Meteor Child.”

  The woman smiled with clear pride. “Of course, elder. My Laughing Demon will make it easy.” She leaned closer, her eyes gleaming. “Now, tell us more about the Meteor Child.”

  I laughed again, the sound scraping against my own ears. “Ha ha ha~! I can’t. I’m bound by a magical contract that urges me to protect the Meteor Child.”

  Only then did I become aware of it. There was something behind me, something pressing close, as if arms were wrapped around my shoulders from the shadows. That presence fed my mania, twisted it, and amplified it. This demon had somehow bypassed the contract Meng Rong had imposed on me, not perfectly, but enough to push me into this grotesque display.

  The woman leaned in even closer, deliberately brushing against me, her posture provocative. “Oh, come now. Surely you can tell me something. How did someone as strong as you fail to assassinate a mere child in a backwater place like that?”

  The words spilled out of me, drenched in laughter I couldn’t stop. “Ha ha ha~! Because there’s a demon guarding the child. Ha ha ha~! He’s going to devour all of you, grind your bones if he has to, and then toy with you until the only thing left in your mouths is despair. Ha ha ha~!”

  Even as I spoke, confusion churned inside me. That wasn’t truly how I viewed Yakuza Man. I saw him as a terrifyingly strong hidden expert, unpredictable and dangerous, but not this caricature of apocalyptic malice. Was this my subconscious twisting him into something else, or was the demon behind me coloring my words?

  “Ha ha ha~!”

  From the corner of my vision, I saw the thing embracing me ignite with dark flames. The woman staggered back abruptly, blood trickling from her nose. My mouth continued moving on its own, the words repeating with feverish intensity.

  “Ha ha ha~! He’s looking forward to your arrival. Ha ha ha~! You’d make fine tinder for his vessel, he said. Ha ha ha~! He’s looking forward to your arrival. Ha ha ha~! You’d make fine tinder for his vessel, he said.”

  “Seal him now!” the old man shouted, his composure finally cracking.

  The woman vomited black blood, collapsing to one knee as the illusion destabilized. I laughed through it all, breathless and hoarse. “Ha ha ha~! See you in Xincheng.”

  At that point, the contract I had made with Meng Rong asserted itself, slamming down like an invisible shackle and forcibly choking off any further words. The needle-wielding man unfurled a painted scroll of a mountain, while the old man rapidly formed hand seals, his expression grim.

  “Begone, demon!” the old man roared.

  “Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha~!”

  I could only laugh in response, the sound spiraling into something endless and broken. The laughter echoed on and on, cascading out of me in a torrent that even I could no longer recognize as my own, as if something else entirely had found my throat and decided to announce itself to the world.

  “All hail the Heavenly Demon!”