The night had surrendered to dawn, and the sun cast a pale light across Yun Luo City. Yet, the city lay in an eerie silence, as if it had been stripped of life. The roads, usually bustling with activity, were desolate. Blood splattered the streets, pooling in sinister puddles as though some fierce battle had taken place. And yet, not a single body remained—only one figure stood alone in the ghostly quiet.
"Child, flee from here… he will kill everyone… run!" Yun Lin heard a voice, soft yet desperate, the voices of a man and a woman. Familiar, they echoed with the urgency of people he knew—his parents. He saw them then, their faces pale with terror as they were held by a blood-red shadow, a creature with monstrous hands. The shadow placed its clawed fingers on their heads, and before Yun Lin could move, their bodies exploded in a mist of blood. The creature inhaled the cloud, feeding off it with dark satisfaction.
Terror rooted Yun Lin in place, his body drenched in cold sweat. He felt paralyzed, his pulse racing, unable to tear his gaze from the horror unfolding before him. He tried to scream, but the fear choked his voice. His body trembled, and then he jolted awake, his heart pounding wildly.
Even awake, his nightmare continued.
As his eyes adjusted, he looked around and found blood on his hands and feet. His home, usually warm and welcoming, had transformed into a scene of horror. The walls were smeared with blood, and the courtyard seemed to have turned into a crimson lake. His mind reeled. He wanted to scream but found himself mute. His teeth chattered, and he tried to call for his parents, but no sound escaped him. His voice seemed locked away, his calls for help only distant memories. Overcome by fear, he fainted on the spot.
Fifteen days passed.
Rumors spread like wildfire through the nearby territories. "Yun Luo City has been slaughtered; no one survived, and the entire city reeks of blood," people whispered. For ordinary mortals, the tale was unimaginable—a nightmare come to life. For cultivators, however, it was a minor event; Yun Luo City was, after all, a small town spanning just 20 or 30 kilometers. Yet, the brutality of the attack shook the nearby villages, and people distanced themselves from Yun Luo City, fearing they might meet the same fate.
Yun Luo City lay within the country of WenZong, a land governed by four powerful sects: the Mystic Pill Sect, the Blood Moon Sect, the Holy Spirit Sect, and the Five Peaks Sect. Yun Luo City fell under the Five Peaks Sect's jurisdiction, yet now the sect was silent, leaving villagers in tense anticipation of what might come next.
A thousand kilometers away, at the summit of a majestic mountain, lay the heart of the Five Peaks Sect, where cultivators gathered to hone their skills and wisdom. Disciples climbed the stone steps, while some soared gracefully on flying swords. At that moment, three figures—two young men and a middle-aged man—descended from the east on their flying swords, landing softly in the stone plaza.
Moments later, two female cultivators landed nearby, their robes fluttering in the wind. One of the young men stepped forward, bowing with his hands clasped. "Junior Sister Shi Xiao, it has been too long."
Shi Xiao replied coolly, "Indeed, Senior Brother Meng. It has been a while."
The middle-aged man, observing the exchange, shook his head. With a slight smile, he addressed the two women, "Junior Sisters, have you both accepted the mission to investigate the events in Yun Luo City?"
The second female cultivator, Shi Liu, responded with a wry smile. "Senior Brother Li, it seems your keen eyes haven't changed."
Just then, a commanding voice called out from within the hall. "The five of you, come see me."
They proceeded into the hall, finding themselves in a solemn chamber adorned with intricate engravings of mystical creatures, symbols of power and wisdom. Despite its simplicity, the room exuded an aura of ancient authority. At the far end stood a man in azure robes, his back to them, radiating an air of quiet strength.
The five disciples bowed in unison. "Disciple pays respect to Elder Sima."
The elder turned slowly, his gaze sharp and assessing, before handing them a jade slip. "This mission promises great rewards, but it is also fraught with danger. You will face trials, both known and unknown, so take it on at your own risk."
They each nodded in respect, expressing their thanks before leaving the chamber. As they stepped outside, they summoned their flying treasures—each unique and well-crafted—and took to the skies, bound for Yun Luo City.
More than fifteen days had passed.
Five days ago, Yan Lin had woken up again. He stood up, forced himself to control the terror coursing through him, and slowly ventured out of his courtyard to roam the desolate city. But aside from him, there were no signs of life. Not even animals. Not a single bird chirped in the empty sky.
Famished, he began searching through every house. Sometimes he found food, but everything was tainted, soaked in blood. To survive, he had no choice but to consume whatever he found, until the sight of the blood-splattered city became... normal to him.
On the first day, Yan Lin had cried uncontrollably, wandering from house to house, calling for his parents. But he did not know that there was no one left to answer.
In these last days, everything had changed, but one thing remained the same—the blood on the walls and the ground, still fresh, as if it were the very first day of the massacre.
Ten more days passed.
Yan Lin saw five streaks of light approaching his location. Terrified, he hid inside a house. At the same time, five figures landed in Yun Luo City, looking around in disbelief at the devastation. They exchanged uncertain glances. Senior Brother Li stepped forward and instructed, "Search the entire city—see if anyone is alive."
They scattered, covering the city. Two hours later, they regrouped, their faces grim.
Shi Xiao spoke first, "Senior Brother Li, why does the blood on the ground look so fresh? It has been almost a month since this tragedy occurred."
The middle-aged man, Senior Brother Li, observed the blood with narrowed eyes. "Even I don't understand. This is... strange. I believe we need to return immediately and report this to the mission appointment hall."
Everyone nodded in agreement, but at that moment, Senior Brother Li noticed something. He looked toward a half-destroyed home.
Yan Lin saw the man's gaze and froze. He then heard a voice, soft and eerie, whisper in his mind: *"Hehehe, little brother, why don't you come out and see me?"*
Yan Lin was stunned. How could someone speak to him without uttering a word?
But something about the voice didn't seem threatening. Slowly, he emerged from the house and walked toward them. When the others saw him, they were equally shocked. They had scoured the city using their spiritual senses and found no trace of life. Yet here was a boy, seemingly an ordinary child, and his presence evaded their senses.
They saw a boy, no older than ten or twelve, his body cloaked in a bloody-red robe. His face was hidden beneath the dirt and blood that caked his clothes. Nothing about him stood out.
As Yan Lin approached them, he stopped at a distance, standing quietly. Everyone exchanged uneasy glances.
Finally, Senior Brother Li spoke, his voice gentle, "Little brother, what happened here? Do you know anything?"
At those words, Yan Lin's eyes turned blood-red, and his voice, tinged with gloom, answered, "They all died."
After a moment of hesitation, Senior Brother Li asked again, "Is anyone else alive?"
Yan Lin shook his head. "No, no one survived but me."
Senior Brother Li carefully examined Yan Lin. There was something strange about the boy. He sensed spiritual veins within him, but they were different.
The spiritual roots were classified into five distinct categories, each reflecting the depth of one's innate potential for cultivation:
Blue spiritual roots, the rarest and most revered, signified supreme cultivation talent. Those born with these roots were destined for greatness, often able to harness Heaven and Earth's energy with ease, reaching unimaginable heights in their journey.
Red roots marked individuals with high talent, strong in their ability to absorb energy and cultivate at a rapid pace. They could access powerful techniques but had to work diligently to reach the pinnacle of their potential.
Yellow roots were indicative of medium talent, with cultivators requiring more effort to refine their energy and progress. While not exceptional, those with yellow roots could still make their mark, often achieving a steady and reliable growth.
Green roots were the low-grade talent, limiting the cultivator's abilities but not entirely stifling their potential. They often had to rely on hard work and perseverance to reach levels that others could achieve more naturally.
Finally, there were the mutated spiritual roots—neither distinctly colored nor easily identifiable. These roots were enigmatic and unpredictable, sometimes granting powers beyond normal understanding, but often at the cost of instability or unforeseen consequences.
What was most unusual, however, was that in the place where spiritual roots usually appeared, there was a strange purple light, pulsing softly but without a defined shape.
Senior Brother Li spoke in a calm tone, "Do you know about cultivators?"
Yan Lin, unfamiliar with the term, shook his head.
Seeing the boy's confusion, Senior Brother Li asked, "Little brother, will you come with us? We are from the Five Peaks Sect. Don't be afraid. We mean you no harm, but we need to take you with us."
After some awkward silence, no one spoke further to Yan Lin. His disheveled state and the blood-soaked robes made him seem out of place.
Senior Brother Li, sensing the boy's fear, smiled reassuringly. He looked at his companions, who nodded in agreement, and they summoned their flying treasures.
Yan Lin stepped back in fear but, reassured by Senior Brother Li's calm demeanor, slowly approached him. With a final glance at the ground below, he stepped onto the flying sword.