Li Wei took the last bitter sip of his wine, its burn barely touching the chaos roiling within him. The tavern buzzed with noise—whispers of fear, tension, and false bravado—but he heard none of it. The world outside was already rotting. He was merely a step ahead of it.
The next morning, the city was restless. As he wandered the streets, brushing against rising panic, something made him pause. A crowd had gathered around a tall wooden notice board in the town square. Pinned in thick letters was a fresh notice:
"A wave of demonic beasts is approaching. All cultivators are summoned. Eastern Gate. By sunset. Contribution is mandatory."
Li Wei bowed his head slightly, a smirk curling at his lips.
"So... the beasts are finally coming."
He felt a strange itch in his chest—not fear, but something deeper. Hunger. The kind only bloodshed could satisfy.
Around him, young cultivators clutched their weapons nervously. Merchants whispered about evacuation. Some fools prayed.
Li Wei laughed and turned away.
Let the beasts come.
He wasn't here to save anyone. But he had no objection to walking through a battlefield painted with blood and fire. Perhaps, just perhaps, he'd find something... fun.
His gaze fell to the lower half of the notice board, and then he saw it:
"The cultivator who slays the most demonic beasts will be granted a special spiritual treasure from the royal treasury, personally awarded by the Crown Prince."
"Oh... now that's interesting," he murmured, his fingers brushing the poster's edge. "Seems like this little town wants a massacre show."
He turned and walked away, his cloak fluttering behind him like a pulsing shadow. Thinking of blood-soaked earth, screaming beasts, and the chaos of battle was almost... poetic. But more than that—he was hungry.
Not just for the prize. But for the feeling. For the thrill of becoming a storm among insects.
"Let them send their strongest..." he whispered, vanishing into the alley, already planning the slaughter.
---
The sky turned into a canvas of fury—lightning tearing through clouds, rain lashing the earth like whips, and thunder so fierce it sounded as though the heavens were screaming.
Atop a jagged black mountain, silhouetted against the storm, stood a monstrous figure—the 7th-rank Black Flame Red-Eye Wolf. Its fur was like a burning night—black flames danced across its body while its eyes glowed with a deep, hellish red. When it roared, the mountain beneath its paws trembled.
Below it spread a nightmare scene.
Thousands of demonic beasts had gathered—shadow wolves, sharp-beaked vultures, bone-scaled boars, and winged vipers. In the sky, giant flying creatures circled, their wings blocking the moonlight, their eyes shining like blood-soaked stars.
Every beast was tense, waiting.
The Alpha's roar wasn't just a signal—it was a proclamation: The hunt begins.
Far away, in the distant city lit by flickering lanterns, Li Wei looked up through the rain, his smile widening even further.
"Now this... is a proper welcome."
---
Far beyond the city, in a wide open space, many cultivators stood. They weren't there to welcome the beasts—they were there to slay them.
A tremendous roar filled the air. Thousands of hooves, claws, and wings thundered forward. From the darkness of the forest, waves of demonic beasts charged like a living storm at the cultivators. The air filled with the cries of battle, screams, and the sharp clash of weapons meeting flesh.
Blades of spiritual energy slashed through the air. Explosions of fire, lightning, and wind burst across the battlefield. Cultivators stood their ground with grim determination—some stood atop summoned stone platforms, others flew through the air using light-body techniques or spirit artifacts, raining down attacks.
A powerful sixth-stage cultivator slammed his staff into the ground, sending out a shockwave that crushed a dozen bone-scaled boars. A girl in green robes, barely at the third stage, summoned vines from the earth to bind the legs of a red-eyed wolf before tearing it in two.
Blood soaked the earth.
Screams tore through the storm.
But they fought on.
Not just to defend their sects, but to prove themselves—to survive in a world where the weak are devoured.
---
Far away, someone watched death's naked dance from atop a tree. A boy, whose eyes showed no emotion for any cause. He held a bottle of wine in his hand.
Sitting on the branch, untouched by the blood-soaked chaos below, the boy tilted his head back and took a long swig from the bottle. The wind howled around him, carrying the scent of blood, burning flesh, and dying screams. Yet none of it touched him.
His eyes, dull and indifferent, gazed at the battlefield as if observing insects struggling in the mud.
"Oh… how boring," he muttered again, his voice low and laced with mockery. "You call this a war? Look at them... running around like headless chickens. Hah. Some can't even kill a single beast."
He lazily twirled the bottle against his neck, letting the liquid inside slosh. Lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating his pale face—expressionless, hollow, yet dangerous. There was no joy, no hatred, no sorrow. Only... apathy.
A demonic beast, sensing someone above, suddenly leapt toward the tree. But as it neared, its body froze in midair—its insides crushed by an invisible force. With a wet pop, the beast exploded into a red mist before it could even scream.
He didn't flinch. He didn't even glance.
"Interrupting my drink, filthy thing."
Below, the cultivators barely noticed. Their screams and battles drowned out everything.
But the survivors... later, they would whisper about the man sitting in the tree, drinking wine, as death danced around him.
Four or five cultivators were fighting together against a demon. It was a powerful 6th stage demon; the cultivators were only at the 5th stage, but they had numbers on their side.
When the 6th stage demon finally fell, its body crashed heavily to the ground with a thunderous boom. The group of cultivators let out a sigh of relief. The bloody battle had exhausted them, but they were victorious.
Miss Su Yan, her face smeared with dirt and blood, stepped forward with a smile.
"Its core... now it's mine," she said, her eyes gleaming with excitement.
Despite the intensity of the fight, the ever-composed and calm Mo Ling gave a small nod.
"Of course, Miss Su Yan. The demon core is yours. You landed the final blow."
He handed her a glowing red core, still radiating heat and energy. Su Yan accepted it proudly.
"Be careful when you absorb it," he added. "It's powerful... even for a 5th stage cultivator."
Behind them, the other team members spoke words of congratulations, but there was a clear tension in the air — envy, ambition, respect, and rivalry all tangled together.
Mo Ling, the prestigious eldest son of the Mo family, was known for his calm demeanor and exceptional talent.
Su Yan, on the other hand, was the youngest gem of the Su family — fiery-tempered and extraordinarily gifted.
Dong City was ruled by three dominant families — the Su, Mo, and Zun families — each wielding their own share of power, but the Su family held the greatest influence, with a known 7th stage cultivator among their ranks.
Just then, a voice rang out:
"The core looks nice. Can I take it?"
The entire group froze.
Weapons were half-raised. Hearts stopped.
They turned toward the voice—and saw a young man, no older than twenty-two or twenty-three, standing lazily with a half-empty bottle of wine in his hand. His hair was messy, his black clothes stained with alcohol, yet his presence carried a weight that unsettled even the most seasoned cultivators.
Mo Ling's expression tightened.
"Zun-Se..." he muttered under his breath.
Miss Su Yan narrowed her eyes.
"What is he doing here?"
Zun-Se. A name enough to silence any gathering. He wasn't just anyone — he was the sole heir of the Zun family, a mysterious lineage seldom seen but always whispered about with caution in Dong City.
Tall, broad-shouldered, with a smirk that never reached his cold, calculating eyes, Zun-Se was a storm in human form.
Despite his apparent drunkenness, everyone could feel it — his spiritual pressure hung over them like a coiled beast.
"I asked nicely," he said lazily, raising the bottle to his lips. "But I don't always take things nicely."
The air turned cold. Even the winds seemed to halt.
Mo Ling stepped forward, his face calm but his body tense.
"Zun-Se, this was our hunt. We will not hand over the core."
Zun-Se laughed.
"Let's see if your pretty little family name can save you today."
The bottle shattered on the ground.
And with it, peace shattered too.
---
Brother-Zun, if I kill him, I'll take his core too, Miss Su said furiously. If I killed him, it's mine!
As Miss Su finished her sentence, the air cracked.
Zun-Se vanished in an instant—and before anyone could react, the head of one of their cultivators flew off. Blood sprayed into the air like a fountain, and the body dropped lifelessly to the ground.
Gasps echoed. Miss Su staggered back in shock.
Zun-Se casually held the severed head by the hair, as if it weighed nothing. His expression didn't change, his eyes remained cold, and that half-smile still played on his lips.
He looked directly at Miss Su.
"You talk too much," he said softly — almost tenderly — yet with a murderous edge.
Then he tossed the head onto the ground like garbage.
"You want to claim your right?" Zun advanced, waves of killing intent rolling off him.
"Then come and take it."
The remaining cultivators drew their weapons, their eyes wide with a mixture of rage and fear. Mo Ling stepped in front of Miss Su, his spiritual aura blazing.
"This is an act of war, Zun-Se," he declared.
Zun-Se cracked his knuckles.
"Then let it begin."
Mo Ling stood quietly, his fingers tightening slightly as he handed the core over to Zun. The weight wasn't just spiritual—it was political. A decision that drew a line in the sand.
Miss Su's eyes burned with fury.
"Mo Ling! That core was mine!" she shouted, trembling with anger.
But Mo Ling didn't look at her. His face remained calm, unreadable.
"It's not worth it," he said flatly.
Zun-Se took the core, smiling as he turned to leave.
"Smart choice," he said without looking back.
"You'll live longer this way."
The rest of the team stayed silent, tension lingering heavily in the air as Zun's figure faded into the shadows.
However, Mo Ling's mind was raging.
> Zun is a 6th stage cultivator. He kills without warning, without rules. I'm not afraid of him... but I won't die over a single core. Let him laugh for now. One day, I will wipe that smile off his face.
He looked up toward the dark sky, distant thunder rumbling.
The storm wasn't over — it was only beginning.
---
Zun-Se was lounging under a tree with the core when he noticed something interesting.
At a distance, another figure sat on a tree branch, watching everything unfold.
Zun narrowed his eyes and silently approached, the empty bottle still dangling lazily from his fingers. The blood-scented wind howled across the battlefield, yet the boy sitting on the branch didn't flinch, didn't blink — just watched.
His clothes were plain, but an aura around him made even the violent roars of demon beasts feel like distant echoes.
No obvious signs of cultivation… yet something was wrong. Dangerous.
Zun landed softly on a nearby branch.
"Enjoying the show?" he asked, a mocking curiosity in his voice.
The boy didn't turn. He only muttered,
"It's boring. Weaklings screaming, the strong pretending to be gods. They'll all be corpses soon."
Zun's smile twitched.
"You talk big for someone who's probably never even held a sword."
Finally, the boy turned his head. His eyes were black — not empty, but filled with something far worse. Hunger. Chaos.
Yet his voice was soft, calm.
"I don't need a sword. I prefer watching people die rather than killing them myself."
Zun's grin faded. His instincts were screaming — this wasn't an ordinary cultivator.
"Who are you?" Zun asked, fingers brushing near his blade.
The boy leaned back against the tree, gaze drifting toward the battlefield.
"Nobody yet... but when it's all over, I'll be the last one standing."
The air between them tightened, as if the world itself held its breath.
Finally, the boy turned fully toward Zun, the crooked smile never reaching his lips. His voice was too calm for the madness in his eyes.
"Should I kill you?" he said playfully.
"If you want, come entertain me."
Zun didn't hesitate. His blade flashed out, spiritual energy bursting into a red glow as he vanished from the branch and reappeared behind the boy, slashing down.
But no impact.
Zun's eyes widened — the boy was gone.
Before he could react, a hand clamped around the back of his neck.
"Too slow," the boy whispered in his ear.
"Too fast. Too human."
The world flipped upside down.
Zun was thrown like a ragdoll, crashing through branches and slamming into the ground with a heavy thud. Blood sprayed from his mouth, his vision spinning.
The boy floated lazily down, as if gravity dared not pull him.
"You asked for my name," he said, his voice carrying a weight far beyond his apparent age.
"I had long forgotten it. But they used to call me... Li Wei."
Zun looked up in disbelief.
"That name... impossible. He disappeared—died—decades ago..."
Li Wei smiled even wider.
"No, Zun. I didn't die. I just went to sleep... and now, I'm very, very hungry."
The forest held its breath.
Two monstrous forces now faced each other — Li Wei, cold, calculating, his twisted smile and black eyes having seen far too much darkness. And Zun, wild, deranged, the 6th stage berserker known for blood and chaos, laughing as if death were a joke.
The wind howled. Trees bent. Thunder rumbled overhead.
Zun licked his lips like a predator and was the first to speak.
"So you're the bastard they used to call 'the Eastern Shadow.' Thought you were just a myth."
Li Wei tightened his grip on the black spear in his hand — a colossal weapon forged of demonic bone and sealed flames.
"And you're the beast. Seems today, one of us becomes a true legend."
Suddenly—
Zun vanished.
The forest shook as he came down with a blazing fist—but Li Wei was already gone, his spear lancing out from behind him, tearing through trees like paper. Zun twisted midair, catching the shaft, and cackled like a madman.
"Smart, fast, dangerous. I already like you!"
Li Wei smiled grimly, spiritual liquid surging through his veins. His spear ignited, demonic symbols flaring across his body.
"You haven't seen anything yet."
Clash!
Explosions erupted. Trees disintegrated into ash. The ground cracked. Thunder boomed across the skies as the two monstrous forces collided—one wild and feral, the other cold and deliberate.
This wasn't just a fight.
It was a war between monsters.