Year 4993

  Heavenly Demon Sect

  The air in the "Heavenly Demon Sect" was heavy and cold, carrying the scent of ancient incense and the absolute power that had seeped into the black stones over centuries. It was not merely a sect, but an empire unto itself, a black mountain carved into the heart of the world, whose authority no one dared to challenge

  . At the heart of this mountain lay the Great Arena, a sacred stage of polished black marble that reflected the dim light of hanging lanterns like a lake of frozen night. This arena was not designed for sport, but for declaring supremacy, for forging legends, and for breaking souls.

  Today, the stage was set for an exceptional confrontation whose echoes would reverberate through the corridors of power. At one end of the arena stood Ling Gu. At fifteen years old, he looked like a prince from a dark fairy tale, his long black hair cascading over his shoulders like silk, his fine robes wrapped around a polished, strong body

  . His eyes held the arrogance of the "Gu" clan and the absolute confidence of a young man who had never known the taste of defeat. He was a guest here, but he acted as if he owned the place, as if this arena had been built solely as a stage for his glory.

  On the other end stood Kaizen. At only thirteen, he looked smaller and thinner, but his presence was heavier than the mountain itself. He was one of the five heirs of the Heavenly Demon Sect, a being born at the pinnacle of the world.

  There was no arrogance in his eyes, but a calm, terrifying void—the emptiness of a person who has seen everything and is no longer surprised by anything.

  His movements were few, almost non-existent, but every breath he took seemed to draw energy from the air around him.

  The deep sound of a bronze bell rang out, its echo reverberating through the absolute silence of the crowd, announcing the beginning of the end for one man's arrogance.

  The battle was a conflict of two philosophies. Ling Gu lunged like a firestorm, his attacks wide and explosive. Every strike of his sword was aimed at domination and crushing his opponent, leaving a trail of red 'Rei' energy in the air.

  He fought with hubris, confident that his raw power would be enough to finish the child before him.

  But Kaizen was not there to be crushed. He moved like a ghost, like a thought. He did not dodge; he flowed. His steps were economical and precise. Every time Ling Gu charged like a raging bull, he found himself striking empty air, while Kaizen would appear elsewhere, calm and unaffected, his sword still resting in its scabbard.

  It was not a battle; it was a harsh lesson in helplessness, a dance in which Ling Gu was the raging fire, and Kaizen was the void that swallowed it.

  Frustration began to creep into Ling Gu's heart. His attacks grew more savage, and his shouts filled the arena as he unleashed his full power, but it all crashed against a wall of silence and indifference.

  Finally, Ling Gu made the mistake Kaizen had been waiting for. In a moment of blind rage, he lunged in a sweeping attack, leaving a tiny opening in his defense, invisible to the naked eye—a gap the size of a dust mote, but it was enough.

  Kaizen moved. It was not a fast movement; it was instantaneous. In a fraction of a second, he was behind Ling Gu, the edge of his hand resting gently on the back of his neck.

  Silence. Ling Gu froze, feeling an icy coldness spread from that point of contact through his entire body, paralyzing every muscle, extinguishing every fire of his rage. Then, with a light press, he collapsed to his knees in the center of the arena, his sword falling from his hand with a sharp clang that echoed in the heavy silence.

  Kaizen did not say a word. He didn't even look at him. He simply turned and walked out of the arena with calm steps, as if he had just finished performing a boring ritual. It was a complete defeat, an absolute humiliation delivered in a deafening silence, an insult harsher than any word.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Ling Gu remained kneeling, his breaths ragged, his eyes staring at the black marble. Shock, anger, disbelief—it all swirled in his mind like a vortex. He slowly raised his head and looked at the royal balcony.

  He saw his mother, Yuki-hi, her white hair shining like snow, her beautiful face a mask of coldness. Her gaze passed through him as if he were merely a broken tool that no longer served its purpose.

  Beside her sat Majun, the master of the Heavenly Demon Sect and Kaizen's father. His face was not cold; it was completely empty, indifferent, as if what had just happened was not even worthy of his attention.

  In that moment, something inside Ling Gu shattered. It wasn't the defeat that broke him, but that indifference. He realized that in the eyes of these demons, he was nothing. Unimportant, neither in victory nor in defeat. And there, in the silence of his humiliation, a dark, cold seed of hunger was born in his soul.

  A hunger for recognition, a hunger for power, a hunger to control a world that had never cared that he existed.

  (Yumi's Perspective)

  "I'm so tired..." Yumi whispered to herself, feeling her sensitive, soft-furred fox ears twitch from the cold. She was ten years old, a servant in this enormous palace, her thick brown tail dragging behind her on the stone floor. "Why, my world, did you have me born in the Heavenly Demon Sect to serve its guests? Am I really 'chosen'?"

  She was carrying a huge, heavy laundry bucket, and it was nearly dawn. As she passed through an open corridor, her tired foot stumbled. The bucket flew from her hands, soaring through the air in a slow, tragic arc, and fell from the window. She gasped in horror and ran to look down, her heart pounding in her throat.

  The bucket and its filthy contents of soap and water had landed directly on a young master who was sitting in the garden below. A young master with eyes that burned with a cold rage. A young master who had been defeated just one day before. Ling Gu.

  "Damn it... damn it... I'm going to die."

  She ran down the stairs, trembling, and began apologizing before she even reached him. "Master! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

  He stood up slowly, dirty water dripping from his black hair. He looked at her, but before he could say anything, she smelled it.

  A disgusting, hysterically funny smell. The smell of arrogance covered in laundry water. She couldn't suppress it. A short, muffled laugh escaped her—a faint sound, but it was like the shattering of glass in a silent temple.

  Ling Gu's eyes froze. "Did... you laugh?"

  "No, Master! I wouldn't dare!"

  In an instant, he was in front of her. He grabbed her by the neck and lifted her off the ground. "Do you look down on me?

  No, Master! I wouldn't dare!"

  "Take her," Ling Gu said to a guard who appeared from nowhere. "To my room."

  She began to cry with fear as she was dragged through the long corridors. "What... what are you going to do to me? Are you going to let the wolves eat me?" she asked the guard who held her arm tightly.

  The guard looked at her coldly. "I don't know. And I don't care."

  She was thrown into a luxurious room that smelled of perfume and silk. A short while later, Ling Gu entered, having bathed and changed his clothes. He closed the door behind him. Then he began to hit her.

  It was a chaotic beating, filled with the pent-up rage from his humiliation. It wasn't a punishment; it was an experiment. With every punch, he discovered a new pleasure, the pleasure of unloading his pain onto a weaker being.

  She screamed, and he laughed. Then, his anger turned to a cold curiosity. He grabbed her fox ears forcefully, and she felt a sharp pain tear through her as she begged him to stop. He pulled her tail until she screamed with a hoarse voice. And he laughed while he did it.

  A laugh that wasn't angry, but happy. A terrifyingly happy laugh, the laugh of a scientist discovering a new and exciting game.

  When morning came, she was just a heap of pain on the luxurious rug. He kept her locked up for days. He would come every night to repeat his "game," and each time he would invent new, more precise, and crueler ways to inflict pain. In the dark, she would wonder, "Where are my mother and father? Do they hate me? Impossible."

  After days, the guard dragged her out of the palace. She found her parents kneeling on the ground before Ling Gu. "We beg you, Master! Don't take her from us!"

  Her mother looked at her, tears filling her eyes.

  "Yumi, we apologize, Master! I beg you!"

  Ling Gu looked at them with absolute contempt, as if looking at insects. "Get this trash away from me."

  The guards beat her parents and dragged them away as they cried and screamed her name. It was the last time she ever saw them.

  She was thrown into a rough, dark cargo wagon, alone. The journey to Chang'an took weeks, every day an eternity of darkness, loneliness, and jolting.

  She could hear the sounds of the outside world but was trapped in her moving tomb, fed on dry bread and water that was thrown to her once a day. In this darkness, her spirit completely shattered.

  When she finally arrived, she was not taken to the grand palace, but thrown through a filthy door that led to the prison beneath it. And there, in the damp darkness and the smell of mold, Ling Gu was waiting for her, the same happy smile on his face.

  "The Blood Game," as he had come to call it, was about to begin again.