Nestled within a forest, a village that had once teemed with life now stood desolate, inhabited solely by a solitary figure—a boy of thirteen or fourteen years. Bathed in the sunlight, he gazed upwards at the sun, his face bearing a streak of blood. With a slow movement, he wiped away the blood, taking in the grim aftermath around him.
Everywhere he looked were lifeless bodies—old, young, and middle-aged. Even the youngest children bore the marks of violence. The village's streets flowed with rivers of blood, creating a horrifying tableau as the boy traversed its gruesome landscape. He bore a sinister mandate: eliminate all survivors and eradicate the roots. An unthinkable task for a thirteen-year-old, yet he accomplished it with chilling efficiency.
Surveying the scene, fatigue and desolation overtook him. The ceaseless slaughter sapped his energy, and his sword was now coated in blood. The blue gemstone on the hilt shimmered as the sun's rays touched the bloodstains. Inside a dilapidated house strewn with items, some bearing stains, he ventured. His brows furrowed as the nauseating scent of blood met his senses, a sensation he detested. Though he was a seasoned taker of lives, the stench never ceased to revolt him.
His steps led him to a noise at the end of the hallway, where a closet yielded a young boy of six or seven, clutching a weighty sword. Though he struggled to hoist the weapon, he advanced toward the destroyer of his family, his eyes brimming with hatred. The sword in the hands of the dark-clad boy trembled in response to the seething animosity. In an instant, the grim tableau dissipated like morning mist, and a boy found himself waking from a haunted dream.
Drenched in sweat, he gasped for breath, the memory of that day's horror still vivid. Despite three years passing, he was haunted by a pair of vengeful eyes. Their hate bore into him, an unrelenting reminder of the monster he had been. He rose from his chair, splashing cold water on his face before offering a gentle pat to the sword nearby. The blade quivered, a silent connection between old companions.
Surviving this trial might be beyond me this time, he contemplated. "Are you ready to be drawn again after two years?" he inquired, addressing the sword. Indeed, the weapon had remained sheathed throughout that time. Its tremor resonated once more, its eagerness palpable. He smiled, taking the sword in hand, but a sudden eagle's cry reverberated.
Few recognized the significance of that cry, which grew nearer, circling the boy's hut before dropping a piece of animal skin into his hands. An exquisite piece of parchment, scarce in quality, bore information transcribed for the continent. The boy read intently, amusement dancing across his lips as he encountered the final message: "The pieces have started moving."
Sensing the developments at the Li family clan house, he chuckled softly, discerning the impending storm. With a shake of his head, he returned indoors, resolved to settle the debt incurred during his two-year residence. He contemplated the series of events that had unfolded since he arrived—this marked the commencement of a new chapter.
The door closed behind him, sealing the beginning of a new phase of his journey.
Within the precincts of the Li Family's compound, the Grand Elder's countenance paled as he perused the animal skin's contents. The esteemed Li family, a force none dared challenge, faced a dire predicament. The alliance of the three distinguished clans—Li, Yun, and Zhang—hinged on the alchemy association's pill supply. However, the two others had joined forces to obstruct resource allocation to the Li family, citing the ineptitude of its younger generation and the folly of bestowing scarce resources upon them.
These factions united to offer double the price for the remaining pills, engaging in a standoff with the Li family's established ties to the alchemy association. In response, a competition was proposed, a public spectacle intended to expose the vulnerabilities of the Li family's youth. Compelled to uphold their prestige, the Li family acquiesced. To back down would be a loss of face and status, the esteemed name of Li tarnished.
Li Zheng, standing at the end of the line, sported an arrogant smile, crossing his arms with disdain. "A mere clan competition? I'll defeat them all and wipe away their arrogance," he boasted.
The other elders, however, shared knowing glances, well aware of the challenge ahead. While the Li family's older generation overshadowed their counterparts, the younger generation lagged behind. Only Li Zheng stood, a mortal realm's ninth level his achievement. The two other clans boasted geniuses who had ascended from the mortal to general realm, a vast disparity. The plan was astute, capitalizing on Li Zheng's limitations.
Unbeknownst to the Grand Elder, this was the result of external manipulation—a ploy that offered benefits to both rival clans. Unconcerned, the young master of the scheming sat elsewhere, chuckling at the unfolding drama. As he read the same letter, he discarded it with a smug smile, anticipating the impending spectacle.
In his eyes, the imminent competition promised entertainment, and he eagerly awaited the unfolding drama.