Chapter 4 - Chapter 4: First

Under the veil of night, the secluded clearing deep within the ancient forest throbbed with a dense, unnatural energy. At its center, Azrael sat in meditation, the symbols of his complex array faintly glowing beneath him, pulsing with a mixture of shadow and necromantic power. His eyes were closed, his breath slow and controlled as he channeled the ethereal energies around him into his dantian.

The qi surged, tearing through the final barrier of Qi Refinement Stage Four with a sharp snap, like glass shattering in his mind. A wave of power flooded his meridians, expanding them, accommodating the newfound energy with ease.

Azrael opened his eyes, satisfaction glinting in the cold depths of his gaze. "Qi Refinement Stage Five," he murmured to himself. The cultivation was faster than anticipated, the combination of his necromantic arts and the sect's shadow techniques forming a unique path that allowed him to ascend rapidly.

He rose, the residual energies fading as the glowing array slowly dimmed. His mastery of both life and death had brought him here, blending the Shadow Veil Mantra with his Soul Assimilation Method—an amalgamation that pushed him far beyond the limitations of any typical cultivator.

But his ascension was not yet complete. "Now," he whispered, his voice barely audible in the still night air, "we must consolidate power."

His thoughts turned to the disciples who had wronged Li Wei: Chen Feng, Liu Ruyan, and Meng Zhi. Chen Feng was dangerous, but Meng Zhi, the weakest of the trio at the sixth stage of Qi Refinement, was the easiest target. Eliminating him would serve as both retribution and the first step in his plan.

"Perfect," Azrael mused. "Meng Zhi shall be our first servant. A fitting beginning."

But as he turned to leave the clearing, Li Wei's voice stirred within him, hesitant. "Azrael… we don't need to kill him. Maybe we could just… defeat him and leave it at that."

Azrael paused, the cold amusement in his mind rippling through their shared consciousness. "Leave him alive? After what he hath done to thee? Thy mercy is misplaced, Li Wei. He is a tool, nothing more. His death shall serve a greater purpose."

Li Wei's thoughts swirled, conflicted. He could feel the weight of Azrael's calm certainty, the ancient necromancer's ruthless efficiency, but something inside him recoiled at the ease with which Azrael dismissed Meng Zhi's life. "But it's not just about revenge," Li Wei argued, "We don't have to become like them—like Chen Feng. There are other ways."

Azrael's presence bristled with quiet disapproval. "Thou dost cling to the fragile morality of the living. Mercy is the tool of the weak. If thou wishest to rise above thy station, thou must abandon such illusions."

Li Wei fell silent, unable to fully argue but equally unwilling to accept Azrael's brutal logic. He knew they needed power to survive in the sect, but did it always have to be like this?

The silence stretched between them as Azrael made his way back to their dilapidated courtyard. He had already decided—this was not a matter for debate.

Azrael spent the next day watching Meng Zhi from a distance, observing his habits. Meng Zhi often ventured into the forest to gather herbs for the alchemy division, unaware of the danger that followed him. It was the perfect opportunity.

As night fell, Azrael prepared. Donning a dark cloak etched with concealment runes, he enhanced his ability to move unseen. In his hands, he carried a small pouch containing a carefully crafted numbing powder—made from herbs Mei Lin had gifted—and a dagger engraved with the Soul Binding Glyph, a tool of his necromantic arts.

"Tonight, vengeance takes root," Azrael whispered, his voice a low murmur.

In the stillness of the forest, Azrael followed the familiar path Meng Zhi often took. The moon hung low in the sky, its pale light filtering through the trees in beams that cut the shadows like knives. Azrael moved silently through the interplay of light and dark, his footsteps soundless.

Soon, he spotted Meng Zhi kneeling by a cluster of glowing fungi, his back turned. The outer disciple hummed softly to himself as he harvested the herbs, oblivious to the danger that lurked behind him.

"Thy arrogance hath blinded thee," Azrael whispered coldly to himself, moving into position downwind.

With a swift motion, he scattered the numbing powder into the air, invoking the Whispering Mist Technique to carry it toward Meng Zhi. The fine particles drifted silently through the air, and soon enough, Meng Zhi inhaled them unknowingly.

Moments later, Meng Zhi's movements faltered. He staggered, confusion creasing his face as he tried to focus, his qi flow already disrupted by the powder. He glanced around, his eyes wide with irritation and panic. "Who's there?" he demanded.

Azrael stepped forward from the shadows, his face hidden beneath the hood of his cloak. "Thy actions have led thee here, Meng Zhi," Azrael said, his voice steady and cold.

Meng Zhi squinted, recognition dawning. "Li Wei? You—what is this? You dare ambush me?"

"Justice hath found thee," Azrael replied, his tone devoid of emotion.

Meng Zhi struggled to gather his qi, but the numbing powder had already begun to take its toll. His face contorted in frustration. "You think you can defeat me? You're nothing! This is…"

Before he could finish, Azrael raised his hand, summoning the shadows around them. Dark tendrils erupted from the ground, coiling around Meng Zhi's limbs, immobilizing him with terrifying ease.

Meng Zhi's eyes filled with fear as he strained against the shadows. "Wait! We can negotiate! Chen Feng—"

"Thy words are wasted," Azrael interrupted, his voice calm and final.

With a flick of his wrist, Azrael struck Meng Zhi's pressure points, rendering him unconscious. The body slumped forward, trapped by the shadowy restraints.

Azrael began the ritual with a steady hand. He inscribed the Nether Binding Array around Meng Zhi's limp form, each stroke of the formation thrumming with dark power. The glow of the symbols intensified as the incantation of the Soul Enslavement Art flowed from Azrael's lips, a language older than the sect itself.

Placing the dagger over Meng Zhi's heart, Azrael completed the ritual. The blade pulsed faintly as it absorbed the last remnants of Meng Zhi's life force.

Li Wei's voice stirred within their shared mind, a hollow sense of unease gripping him. "It was too easy. He didn't even have a chance to fight back…"

Azrael's response was immediate, filled with ancient certainty. "Thou feelst pity for him? He who hath mocked thee, belittled thee, sought thy end? He was weak, undeserving of the life he squandered."

"But… it didn't feel right. This is different from what I imagined," Li Wei's thoughts echoed, filled with conflict. "I wanted justice, not this… this emptiness."

Azrael's voice rippled with mild amusement. "Thou must learn the truth, Li Wei. Power comes not through righteousness, but through domination. It is a truth as old as time itself."

Li Wei fell silent, grappling with the weight of the path he had chosen. As Meng Zhi's eyes opened, now void of life, Li Wei felt a pang of regret.

Azrael, unfazed, gave his command. "Rise."

Meng Zhi's body obeyed, standing before them with blank eyes, his soul now bound to Azrael's will. He was no longer the arrogant disciple who had mocked Li Wei; he was a tool, an extension of Azrael's growing power.

"You shall return to the sect as before," Azrael instructed, his tone unyielding. "Watch Chen Feng and Liu Ruyan. Report their actions to me, and none shall suspect what hath transpired."

Meng Zhi nodded, his movements mechanical, his mind a puppet to Azrael's will.

As Azrael prepared to leave, a subtle shift in the air made him pause. His senses flared, and he turned sharply to see a figure emerging from behind a tree. It was a young woman, her expression calm yet curious, her eyes gleaming with intelligence. She wore the robes of an inner disciple, the emblem of the Shadow Moon Sect stitched proudly onto her attire.

Azrael's eyes narrowed. "Who art thou?" he asked, his voice sharp, though measured.

The woman smiled faintly, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. "Xiao Shuang. I've been watching you for a while now."

Azrael's expression remained impassive. "Spying, thou meanest."

Xiao Shuang chuckled softly. "Your way of speaking… it's odd. You sound like you've stepped out of an ancient scroll. Are all necromancers like this?"

Azrael's eyes remained cold, though the corner of his mouth twitched slightly in amusement. "Thou findest my manner strange? Perhaps. But thou hast yet to answer my question—why dost thou spy on me?"

Xiao Shuang's smile didn't falter. "Curiosity, mostly. You're not like the other disciples. Your methods, your cultivation—it's different. More dangerous."

Azrael weighed her words carefully. This encounter was unexpected, but she did not seem overtly hostile. "And what dost thou seek from me?" he asked, his voice softening slightly.

"An alliance," Xiao Shuang replied, her eyes gleaming. "The sect values strength and innovation. With your power and my position, we could climb the ranks quickly."

Azrael regarded her silently, calculating. "And what wouldst thou offer in return?"

Xiao Shuang shrugged lightly. "I have access to resources, information, and techniques from the inner sect that would take you years to acquire. In return, I want insight into your methods. Necromancy and shadow arts… no one else in the sect has your unique blend of skills."

Li Wei's thoughts stirred uneasily. "Can we trust her?"

Azrael remained silent for a moment longer before replying. "Trust is earned, not freely given. Thou must prove thy worth, Xiao Shuang. But know this—betrayal will be met with consequences thou art unprepared for."

Xiao Shuang's smile widened slightly. "Fair enough. We'll take it slow, then. But I think this could be the start of something… interesting."

With a final glance, she melted back into the shadows, leaving Azrael and Li Wei alone once more.

As they returned to their courtyard, Li Wei's thoughts were heavy with doubt. "Azrael… was that really necessary? Did Meng Zhi have to die like that?"

Azrael's presence remained steady. "He was a pawn, Li Wei. His death serves a greater purpose. In time, thou wilt come to see that power demands sacrifice."

Li Wei remained unconvinced, but he had no words left to argue. The path he had chosen, guided by Azrael's ancient hand, was already leading him further into the shadows.

And there was no turning back.

Meanwhile, Meng Zhi's reports indicated that Chen Feng was rallying other outer disciples, possibly planning an assault. Azrael knew he needed to prepare.

He continued to cultivate diligently, pushing toward Qi Refinement Stage Six. With each advancement, his control over his abilities grew, and his plans moved closer to fruition.

One night, as he meditated in his courtyard, a sudden spike of hostile qi alerted him. Opening his eyes, he sensed multiple presences approaching stealthily.