Under a sky filled with clouds, the thunderclaps resonated through the desolate mountains, breaking the oppressive silence that ruled the landscape.

Xie Zhen advanced alone, his footsteps echoing on the rocky ground. Around him, shadows danced with the rhythm of the lightning, casting a ghostly glow on his cold, impassive face. In the heights of the Huangfeng continent, where only the most powerful cultivators dared venture, Xie Zhen had a clear goal: to obtain a sacred root known for its unparalleled life force, the Root of the Dead Shadow.

Every detail of these mountains had been etched into his memory: the winding path to take, the ferocious creatures that roamed, and above all, the precise location of the root.

But Xie Zhen was not the only one aware of the value of this resource. Powerful cultivators, driven by greed for glory and wealth, had also set out on this quest. What they did not know was that they were not only there to find the root but to serve as distractions—unwitting pawns in a game that he himself had orchestrated.

As he neared the cave where the root was hidden, Xie Zhen stopped, his sharpened senses detecting presences just a few meters away. At the entrance, three cultivators were waiting, probably sent by one of the great nearby sects to retrieve the root before him. They were focused, unaware of the shadow that awaited them.

With a half-smile, Xie Zhen invoked a concealment technique he had perfected in the cursed lands, an art he mastered better than anyone. His body became an indistinct shadow, blending into the darkness of the cave. Without a sound, he approached them, his movements precise and calculated.

"Is this root really worth all the risk?" murmured one of the cultivators, a tall man, visibly nervous.

"Shut up!" his companion snapped, his tone sharp. "This root can accelerate our cultivation by several years. It's as rare as it is valuable. If we manage to bring it back to our sect, we'll gain priceless privileges."

Xie Zhen, listening with amused coldness, slid up to the man at the back and, with a precise motion, plunged two fingers into his neck.

A dark wave passed through the man's body, instantly paralyzing all his muscles. He collapsed without a sound, his eyes wide with terror. Before the others could realize what had happened, Xie Zhen had already merged back into the next shadow.

The two others turned, their eyes scanning the darkness in agitation.

"Who's there? Show yourself!" one of them cried, gripping his sword with a trembling hand.

Xie Zhen did not answer. He let the silence and darkness weigh on them, plunging them into unbearable anxiety.

Each passing moment deepened their panic, and he could almost feel their growing fear. These men were nothing but weaklings, far from the predator he had become. He had learned to exploit the weaknesses of his adversaries, to consume them slowly before delivering the fatal blow.

Finally, he emerged from the shadows, his face impassive, illuminated by the flickering light of a flame. The two cultivators instinctively stepped back upon seeing him, immediately recognizing the cold aura radiating from him.

"Who... are you?" one stammered, his voice shaking.

Xie Zhen gave a cold smile. "It doesn't matter who I am. What matters is that you have something I want, and you're in my way."

Before the two men could react, Xie Zhen cast a shadow spell that wrapped around their bodies, immobilizing them instantly.

With surgical precision, he finished off one of them by crushing his heart with a single press of his hand, leaving the other to collapse, paralyzed by terror.

"Mercy…" whispered the last survivor, his eyes wide, his breath quickening.

Xie Zhen stared at him for a moment, his impassive eyes locked on the man's.

"Mercy is a luxury I cannot afford."

With a calculated motion, he plunged his hand into the man's chest, pulling out a still-beating heart. The man locked eyes with his own organ in a final horrified gaze before life left him. Xie Zhen watched the light fade from his eyes with cold satisfaction.

With the three men eliminated, Xie Zhen moved toward the precious root, which emitted a faint dark glow at the back of the cave.

He placed a hand on it and felt a surge of pure energy course through his body. The root was even more powerful than he had imagined. Absorbing its essence, he felt his cultivation advance at a dizzying speed.

As the root's energy integrated into his body, memories of his past returned, but he quickly pushed them aside.

This was not the time to be overwhelmed by old emotions. His cruelty was not a mask; it was his true nature, forged in a world where the weak were crushed, and the strong took what they desired.

As he exited the cave, his gaze fixed on the horizon. He knew that this act would attract the attention of powerful enemies, but that only made the game more exciting. Those who would come seeking revenge would be opportunities to hone his skills—steps in his ascension.

In the distance, he heard hurried footsteps. A group of cultivators was approaching. He smiled, waiting for them with cold patience.

To Xie Zhen, every opponent was a mere obstacle on the path to domination. And this world would only understand his power too late.

The footsteps echoed, growing closer to the cave entrance. Xie Zhen remained still, his icy gaze fixed on the silhouettes slowly emerging from the gloom.

Four cultivators advanced cautiously, their aura revealing that they were no novices; they wore the insignia of the Tianming sect, renowned for its formidable warriors.

"Three men from our sect haven't returned… they may have run into a monster more powerful than expected," one of them murmured.

Xie Zhen suppressed a smile. The naivety of cultivators who relied solely on their sects for protection always amused him.

This dependency made them weak, unable to understand the true nature of strength: one that obeyed no rules or morals. He took a few steps forward, letting his oppressive aura spread through the air like a poisoned mist.

The four cultivators froze upon seeing him, their gazes flickering between surprise and fear. The largest among them, clearly the leader, frowned.

"Who are you?" he asked authoritatively.

Xie Zhen did not respond immediately. He let a silence settle, savoring the palpable tension. Finally, he spoke with a cutting tone.

"I'm the one who took what your miserable comrades so desperately wanted. And if you don't want to join them in oblivion, it would be wise to turn back."

The leader laughed nervously, trying to mask his fear. "Arrogant! Do you really think you can intimidate us? We are not mere disciples!"

Xie Zhen raised an eyebrow, amused. He relished challenges, especially those who thought themselves superior.

With a fluid motion, he unleashed a dark technique—a stream of black energy that wrapped around one of the men, pulling him toward Xie Zhen with irresistible force.

Before the others could react, Xie Zhen snapped the man's neck with a precise gesture, releasing his lifeless body.

The three survivors recoiled, visibly shocked, but determination mixed with fear in their eyes. They invoked defensive techniques, forming a tight circle.

Lightning and flames shot out around them, lighting the cave with a fierce glow. But Xie Zhen remained unmoved, as if their attacks were nothing more than an insignificant diversion.

He raised a hand, and a wave of black energy spread around him, swallowing the flames and lightning in an instant. One of the cultivators stumbled backward, his technique absorbed without a trace.

"You've chosen the wrong opponent," he said in a cold voice.

Without waiting, he melted into the shadows, moving with almost supernatural speed. He reappeared behind one of them, plunging his fingers into his spine, releasing a corrupting energy that paralyzed him instantly.

Only two men remained, including the leader. One attempted to flee, but Xie Zhen caught him effortlessly, ending his life with a swift blow to the neck.

The leader, now alone, backed away, his eyes wide with terror. All his arrogance and confidence had melted away in the face of Xie Zhen's relentless brutality.

The leader fell to his knees, pleading with a trembling voice. "Mercy… I'll do anything you want… spare me…"

Xie Zhen looked at him, impassive, a smile devoid of humanity curling on his lips.

"Mercy, you say?" He let out a cold laugh. "Do you really think mercy matters in this world? If you want to survive, you'll need more than pleading words."

He raised his hand, ready to deliver the final blow, but suddenly hesitated. "I'll give you a lesson you'll never forget. Go back to your sect and tell them this: if they send more fools after me, I will make them suffer in a thousand ways. Tell them that the name Xie Zhen will soon be engraved in their minds as a curse."

The man, trembling with both relief and terror, nodded frantically before getting up and fleeing without looking back.

Xie Zhen, alone again, exited the cave and gazed at the horizon. The sacred root still pulsed within him, its vibrant energy nourishing every fiber of his being. This was only the beginning. His power would only grow, and soon, the world would learn to fear his name.

He left the place, a shadow among shadows, driven by an insatiable d.esire for domination and terror.