The cold wind howled through the dark forest as the full moon cast a silvery glow over the treetops. Van Thien Phong stood still amidst the shadows, his long black robes fluttering with every gust. The silence was thick, oppressive. Yet, he waited patiently, like a predator.
Tonight was different.
It wasn't a simple hunt. It wasn't a lesson.
It was his first kill.
Three days had passed since he was accepted into the Outer Sect of the Scarlet Heaven Pavilion. Three days of humiliation, stares, and mockery. They looked down on him, thinking he was still the same useless weakling who had been beaten bloody in the public square just a week ago.
Let them think that.
Let them live in ignorance—for now.
Because tonight, Van Thien Phong would draw blood. Real blood.
Not from beasts. Not from sparring.
But from a fellow cultivator.
He wasn't doing it out of rage.
He was doing it because it was necessary.
Because this world only respected power—and he intended to make the world kneel.
Footsteps. Sloppy. Untrained.
He shifted his gaze.
A figure in a green robe emerged through the trees, yawning, scratching his head. A disciple on night patrol.
Perfect.
Phong stepped forward, slow and quiet. His hand touched the hilt of the dagger hidden under his robes. A gift from that old beggar in the city. Turns out, the dagger was no ordinary blade—it could bypass low-level defensive spiritual energy. A perfect weapon for assassination.
The disciple paused, sensing something off.
"Who's there?" he called out, voice trembling just slightly.
Phong didn't answer. He stepped closer.
The moonlight reflected off his eyes—cold, emotionless.
The disciple panicked. "Wait! I-I'm just patrolling, I'm not—"
A flash of silver.
Blood sprayed the trees.
The disciple clutched his throat, gurgling, eyes wide with shock. He fell, body twitching, blood pooling around him.
Phong stood over him, unmoved.
He stared into the disciple's dying eyes, watching the life fade out.
No emotion.
No regret.
Only one thought in his mind: This is only the beginning.
He dragged the body off the path and dumped it into a ravine, covering it with leaves. It was crude, but it would buy him time. Outer sect disciples died all the time—beast attacks, accidents, disappearances. No one would suspect him.
Not yet.
He washed the blood from his hands in a nearby stream, the cold water stinging his skin.
Then he stood, looking up at the sky.
One down.
Thousands to go.
---
The next morning, the sect was abuzz with rumors.
"Did you hear? Xu Min disappeared last night!"
"Maybe he got drunk again and wandered off."
"Or he was eaten by a spirit beast. Serves him right, lazy bastard."
Van Thien Phong passed by the gossiping disciples, face calm, expression unreadable. No one gave him a second glance.
He liked it that way.
Invisibility was his armor.
For now.
---
That afternoon, he returned to his hut. It was small, barely better than a shed, but it served his purpose. He sat cross-legged, focusing on the stolen jade slip he had found days ago—the one containing cultivation techniques forbidden to outer sect disciples.
It was a low-grade demonic technique.
Dangerous. Banned.
Perfect for someone like him.
He pressed the slip to his forehead and let the knowledge flood in.
Dark energy. Blood refinement. Spirit corrosion.
It was painful. His head throbbed. His veins felt like they were on fire.
But he endured.
Because pain was temporary.
Power was forever.
By the time the sun set, he had memorized the first layer.
He stood, staggering slightly, but his eyes burned with fierce intensity.
That night, he would begin refining the blood of his first victim.
He had collected it, of course. Carefully.
Stored in a gourd he sealed himself.
Demonic cultivation required sacrifice.
He was more than willing to give it.
---
Days passed. Quiet. Too quiet.
Until the third night.
A knock came on his door.
He opened it.
Standing there was a woman—cloaked, mysterious.
Eyes cold and intelligent.
She looked him up and down.
"You're not as worthless as they think," she said.
Phong said nothing.
"You killed Xu Min."
Still silence.
"You did well."
His eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"
She stepped forward, tossed him a black token.
A skull engraved in the center.
"Your first mission is complete," she said.
"Welcome to the Abyss."
She turned and vanished into the night, leaving Phong standing there, token in hand, heart racing.
He had been watched. Evaluated.
And accepted.
Into something darker.
Something far greater than the Scarlet Heaven Pavilion.
Something that whispered of chaos.
Of blood.
Of power.
He clenched the token tightly, a smile forming on his lips.
Let the world fear heroes.
He would be the villain they could never stop.
---
[End of Chapter 6]