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Chapter 3 - 3;Demon Palace

The demon lands stretched out beneath Feng Zhu, an expanse of shadowed valleys, craggy peaks, and dense forests alive with ominous energy. Dark clouds veiled the sky, casting the terrain in shades of bleak gray and oppressive black, but Feng Zhu's expression was one of calm indifference. He flew swiftly, the winds around him swirling in response to his dark aura. In his arms, Fei Yue remained unconscious, her face pale but serene as though untouched by the malice that permeated the lands below.

Feng Zhu glanced down at her, his eyes glinting with a rare hint of satisfaction. A slight smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth as he murmured, "I never thought I'd find myself saving someone… but it seems saving her has its rewards. With her, I might just find my way into the Wind Sect's secrets." He chuckled softly, the thought of the power he could unlock thrilling him.

Ahead, a colossal mountain loomed in the distance, its rugged surface blocking his path. Feng Zhu paused midair, his gaze fixed on the peak with a calculating look. He raised his hand, channeling a surge of dark energy through his palm, and shot it towards the mountain. The energy shot forth in a blazing arc, crackling with intensity as it collided with the mountainside.

A low rumble filled the air as dark clouds materialized, swirling in response to Feng Zhu's command. The mountain itself seemed to shudder, and with a final deafening crack, the entire structure dissolved into a misty void. The mountain vanished, unveiling a hidden path that lay concealed behind its now non-existent mass. Feng Zhu resumed his flight, moving swiftly along the path as if he had done it countless times.

At the entrance to the hidden domain, several figures awaited him. They were shrouded in dark cloaks, their faces obscured by masks adorned with strange symbols. As Feng Zhu descended, they bowed low, their heads dipped in silent reverence.

Feng Zhu smirked, acknowledging their gesture with a nod. The masked figures immediately began chanting, their voices blending into an eerie harmony. The shadows shifted and swirled around them, casting an invisible barrier over the path. The mountain reformed, sealing the entrance and making the domain disappear once more, hidden from any prying eyes.

This place was more than a hideout—it was the home of the demonic cults. Feng Zhu's true stronghold.

Once the path was secured, Feng Zhu increased his speed, streaking through the sky towards a towering palace nestled deep within the demonic lands. The palace was grand, its spires stretching toward the darkened heavens, intricate carvings and ominous symbols etched into its stone walls. Despite its foreboding appearance, the palace possessed an undeniable grandeur, every inch designed to command fear and respect.

Feng Zhu descended slowly, his boots touching the ground with a soft thud. As he landed, one of his trusted dark cultivators—a man cloaked in black, with a cold gaze even behind his mask—stepped forward and knelt, bowing his head.

"Great Prince," the cultivator murmured, his tone reverent.

Feng Zhu glanced at him and gestured to Fei Yue, still cradled in his arms. "Here, take her to the healing chamber. Let Xun Xi tend to her wounds."

The man stood, carefully taking Fei Yue from Feng Zhu's arms. "Yes, my lord," he replied, his voice devoid of hesitation.

A brief look of warning flickered across Feng Zhu's face. "Ensure nothing happens to her," he commanded, his tone dark and unyielding.

The cultivator nodded, understanding the gravity of Feng Zhu's words. "Yes, my lord," he repeated, and with a final bow, he departed swiftly, carrying Fei Yue toward the healing chambers deep within the palace.

Feng Zhu watched him go before turning and entering the palace himself. The grand hall he entered was vast and imposing, its high ceilings adorned with chains that held flickering torches. Shadows danced along the walls, casting eerie patterns that shifted with every step he took. Rows of masked cultivators lined the corridors, each one lowering their head in respect as Feng Zhu passed.

He paid them no mind, his focus solely on the task before him. With each step, he approached the heart of the palace, an enormous chamber sealed with a pair of ancient doors inscribed with runes of power. The doors opened smoothly at his touch, revealing a chamber cloaked in near-total darkness.

The air was thick with the scent of incense and something else—something far more sinister. At the center of the chamber stood a colossal coffin, its surface crafted from the darkest obsidian, polished to a mirror-like sheen. Massive, dark spiders scurried across the floor, their red eyes glinting like embers as they swirled around the coffin in silent, ceaseless movement.

Feng Zhu approached the coffin, his gaze intense. Embedded in the coffin's lid was a panel of glass, through which he could see the figure lying within. It was a young man, his face strikingly similar to Feng Zhu's own, yet bearing a peaceful expression, as if in a deep, unbroken sleep.

Feng Zhu placed his hand on the glass, his voice barely a whisper. "Soon, little brother. Soon, I'll awaken you."

He allowed his hand to linger, a rare moment of tenderness breaking through his usually hardened exterior. This brother of his—the one who lay entombed—was the only family he truly cared about. The only one he had ever trusted.

As he stared down at his brother, lost in thought, he became aware of another presence in the room. Turning, he saw a woman standing at the entrance of the chamber. She was tall, with striking dark purple eyes that seemed to absorb the dim light, and her hair was a soft shade of pink, cascading down her shoulders. She wore the traditional dark robes of the cult, her presence both elegant and formidable.

"My prince," she said, bowing her head respectfully. "The cult elders are awaiting your presence."

Feng Zhu's eyes lingered on his brother's face for a moment longer before he nodded, a faint smile crossing his lips. "I'll be there soon," he replied.

The woman straightened, her eyes downcast in respect. "Yes, my lord," she murmured, before turning to leave.

As she walked out, she glanced back, her gaze resting on Feng Zhu's face as he continued to gaze at the coffin. There was a softness in her eyes, a touch of admiration that she quickly masked. "The Prince has such a caring heart for his brother," she thought, a pang of admiration mingling with sorrow as she quietly shut the doors behind her.

With the door closed, Feng Zhu returned his full attention to the coffin, his hand still resting on the glass,showing his silent resolve to bring his sibling back from death's embrace.