Wen Ran stood in place, hidden in the shadows, his sharp eyes scanning the system screen. His heart was calm—or rather, slightly excited. Perfect. This so-called system is finally starting to appeal to me. Give me more quests like these, with precious rewards, and I can slaughter this entire place. Why just burn it to the ground?
His thoughts were dark, wicked even, but they didn't trouble him. Revenge burned in his soul, and if killing brought him closer to his goals, why hesitate? Wen Ran's lips curled into a faint smirk as his gaze lingered on the reward. But the name… Ethereal Essence Pill. He rifled through the vast knowledge accumulated in his past life, his mind racing. No, it doesn't ring a bell. I suppose this world's cultivation system comes with its own quirks.
Shaking off the thought, he refocused. No point dwelling on it now. As long as it can increase my power, that's all that matters. Just the thought of gaining strength made his blood stir, but the distant sound of a muffled scream pierced through his musings, freezing him in place. His smirk vanished, his expression turning cold.
It's no good. If my ticket out of here dies, I'll have to go rogue sooner than expected.
His sharp eyes flicked to the large spirit crystal embedded in the wall, its faint glow reflecting his resolve. Without hesitation, he swung the hilt of his weapon at it, striking it at an angle to crack it loose. The resounding clang echoed loudly through the tunnel, a deliberate move to grab attention.
Above, the two masked intruders had been in the middle of their vile plan. The woman held Fang Jinyao's legs firmly in place, while the broad-shouldered man hovered above her, his hands tugging at her clothes with predatory intent. His eyes gleamed with a lustful glint, a wild and untamed aura radiating from him like a beast in heat.
"Let me see what that bastard slave has been enjoying all this time," he sneered, his grin wide and sinister.
Fang Jinyao, tears streaming down her face, struggled fiercely, her golden eyes burning with anger and desperation. Her heart ached not for herself, but for Wen Ran. As long as he's safe… she thought, clinging to the hope that he had escaped. That fragile hope was the only thing keeping her from breaking entirely.
The loud crash from below shattered the moment.
The tall man froze, his eyes narrowing as his gaze darted to the open trapdoor. His expression darkened with realization. "So… he was hiding down there, huh?" A wild, crazed laugh erupted from his throat, echoing through the room. "That little rat! Hahaha! I was dumb not to notice earlier."
Turning to the woman, he barked, "Go fetch the useless shit for me. I want him to watch as I make this beauty mine."
The woman stiffened at the order, her fists clenching tightly at her sides. "Yes… elder brother," she muttered through gritted teeth, the words bitter on her tongue. Her anger simmered, but beneath it, a wave of jealousy surged.
Why her? she thought, her gaze lingering briefly on Fang Jinyao. If only it were me in her place… his touch would be mine. Why does she get to have it all?
Burying her emotions deep, she masked her turmoil with a cold, calculating expression. Her steps toward the trapdoor were deliberate and silent, but her thoughts raged. That slave… I'll make him regret everything. I'll break him, make him beg for forgiveness, and then I'll ensure he never forgets me.
Her concealed desire and envy twisted into malice as she prepared to descend into the darkness, each movement precise, like a predator stalking its prey.
Meanwhile, Wen Ran, hearing the creaking floor above, stopped striking the spirit crystal. It was already foolish to think he could pull it out with his current strength, but all he needed was a distraction, and his plan had worked perfectly. Rotating his spiritual power, he masked his aura completely. At the Spirit Gathering stage, practitioners were unable to use advanced skills; control over spiritual energy and manifesting it externally was only possible at higher stages. This limitation gave Wen Ran's years of honed combat skills a decisive advantage.
The masked woman, however, was naive. Without hesitation, she leaped into the hole, never imagining the devil god lurking in the shadows below. As her feet touched the ground, her posture instinctively crouched from the impact, exposing her neck in a vulnerable position.
Wen Ran's lips curled into a cold, devilish smile. She has no idea how much she overestimated herself.
Her eyes caught sight of her own body still crouched where she landed.
Huh? The single thought flickered briefly before her world spun. The last thing she saw was Wen Ran's sharp gaze staring back at her before her head tumbled into the darkness. Eternal silence swallowed her as the light faded from her eyes.
"Foolish children..." Wen Ran muttered under his breath, his gaze lingering briefly on the severed head lying on the ground. Its vacant expression almost seemed to accuse him.
Flicking the blood off his blade, Wen Ran turned his focus upward. The muffled sounds above—the cries and inaudible protests—were shifting to sobs. He didn't rush. Fang Jinyao was merely a pawn, a ticket to survival, nothing more. But even with his cold pragmatism, Wen Ran held certain principles. He might not be a saint, he would turn a blind eye most of the time, but he despised those who gave in to their base desires, allowing themselves to be consumed by heart demons. Such people were unworthy of reaching the heavens, doomed to stagnate and rot in the mortal realm.
It's no good. If my ticket out of here dies or is defiled, it will ruin my plans. I can't let that happen. Making her foolishly trust me and becoming a hero for her right now will make her blind to my true intentions.
Casually, he picked up the severed head by its hair, pulling off the mask and hood to reveal the lifeless face beneath. Without hesitation, he ascended the ladder, his steps deliberate and heavy with intent.
As Wen Ran emerged into the room, his eyes immediately locked onto the broad-shouldered man. The brute was in the middle of removing his pants, his "tiny warrior" already exposed and pathetic in its eagerness. The grotesque sight only deepened Wen Ran's disgust.
With a sharp spin, Wen Ran hurled the severed head like a projectile. It flew through the air and struck the man square in the face with a sickening thud, knocking him backward and sending his mask flying off.
The brute stumbled, blood smearing his face as his wild, furious eyes turned to Wen Ran.
And there he stood, the devil god in the flesh, his blade gleaming faintly in the dim light, his cold, merciless eyes fixed on his prey.
The challenge had been initiated.