Ao Yifan's rebirth was not just an opportunity to survive—it was a promise to himself, a vow to conquer the world that had so ruthlessly discarded him. From the moment his soul had intertwined with the frail boy's body, the gears of destiny had begun to shift. The Luo Yang Empire, a land rife with corruption and power struggles, would soon feel the tremors of his ascent. But before he could rise above the muck and mire, he first had to survive, and that meant embracing the power that others feared to touch: demonic cultivation.
The cave, once a place of squalor and abandonment, had become Ao Yifan's sanctuary and his forge. Here, in the cold, damp silence, he began his dark training. The boy's body, frail and wasted, screamed in agony as Ao Yifan forced the demonic energy to flow through it. It was like being torn apart from the inside. The Nine Hells Demonic Codex had been the key to his transformation, yet its demands were unforgiving. Each night, as the wind howled outside the cave, Ao Yifan would endure the torturous process of channeling the forbidden energy, his body and soul warring with each other.
At first, there was only pain. His muscles, once feeble and underdeveloped, would spasm uncontrollably. His bones, thin and brittle, seemed on the verge of snapping. But Ao Yifan refused to relent. His mind, unclouded by fear or doubt, pushed forward, clawing its way through the agony. The codex demanded sacrifice, and Ao Yifan was more than willing to provide it.
The nights were the worst. In the dead of night, when the moon hung like a pale ghost in the sky, Ao Yifan would sit cross-legged in the center of the cave, focusing on the jade slip's instructions. He would channel the cursed energy through his body, feeding it with his own life force. The Nine Hells Demonic Codex was not a cultivation method meant for the weak-hearted. It drew upon the pain and suffering of its user, turning their agony into power. The process was slow and excruciating, but each drop of demonic energy that surged through him made Ao Yifan stronger.
Days turned into weeks, and Ao Yifan began to feel the subtle shifts in his body. His senses were sharpening. His vision, once blurry and weak, was now as keen as a hawk's. His strength, though still far from extraordinary, was growing. His once sunken eyes now gleamed with a crimson hue, a sign that the demonic energy was taking root within him. His body, still emaciated, pulsed with a dark aura that seemed to distort the air around him.
It was a far cry from the towering, godlike figure he would become, but it was enough to survive.
One evening, as Ao Yifan sat in meditation, focusing on the codex's intricate patterns, the sounds of rustling came from outside the cave. His sharp senses detected the presence of another, someone—or something—approaching. He didn't flinch. Instead, his lips curled into a grim smile. More prey?
Ao Yifan emerged from the cave, his body cloaked in shadows. The sun was beginning to set, casting long, jagged shadows over the land. As he moved through the wilderness, the air seemed to grow colder, heavier. The village he had once scavenged from lay ahead, its dim lights flickering like dying stars. His senses, attuned to the slightest shift in the air, picked up on the faint sounds of voices—a group of people talking in low, hurried tones.
Curious, Ao Yifan approached. His heart thrummed with anticipation, and he allowed the dark aura within him to surge outward, cloaking him in a terrifying presence. When he rounded the corner of a dilapidated building, he saw them—two men, dressed in tattered robes, arguing fiercely.
"We can't wait any longer! The sect will send someone for him. The time is now, or we'll lose everything!" one man hissed, his eyes darting nervously.
"I know! But we have to be careful. The last time we tried... it didn't end well," the other replied, his voice strained.
Ao Yifan's eyes gleamed with interest. Sect? An opportunity, perhaps?
He stepped forward, his presence filling the narrow alleyway. "You speak of waiting," he said, his voice low and dangerous. The men froze, their gazes snapping toward him. "But you don't wait for power. You take it."
The men blinked in shock. One of them, a stout man with a scarred face, sneered. "Who are you, boy? This is none of your business."
Ao Yifan's crimson eyes flashed with a deadly gleam. "I beg to differ," he said, stepping forward with deliberate slowness. "It is my business now."
Before the men could react, Ao Yifan moved like a shadow, his hand outstretched. The first technique of the Nine Hells Demonic Codex, the Soul-Devouring Claw, erupted from his fingers, dark energy swirling in a violent arc. The man with the scarred face barely had time to react before Ao Yifan's claw-like hand pierced his chest, tearing through his heart. The life force drained out of him, absorbed by Ao Yifan with a terrifying speed. His body crumpled to the ground, a lifeless husk.
The second man, terrified, attempted to flee, but Ao Yifan was faster. He reached out, grabbing the man's arm with inhuman strength. "Where are you running?" Ao Yifan whispered, his voice cold and merciless. The man's terrified eyes met his, but before he could speak, Ao Yifan crushed his windpipe with a simple twist of his hand. The man's body went limp, and Ao Yifan's eyes glowed brighter as his strength grew once more.
When the last of the life essence had been absorbed, Ao Yifan dropped the man's body to the ground. He wiped the blood from his hand and surveyed the two corpses with indifference.
"Pathetic," he muttered, his voice laced with contempt. His crimson eyes turned toward the darkening sky. The first steps have been taken. Soon, the true path will be revealed.
In the days that followed, Ao Yifan's reputation began to spread throughout the village. Whispers of a demon lurking in the shadows reached the ears of those with power. Yet none dared to confront him. They feared him, but they also feared the unseen power that pulsed within him.
With each life he took, Ao Yifan's power continued to grow. He had become a phantom, a ghost haunting the wilderness, devouring those who dared cross his path. The weak were nothing more than stepping stones on his path to greatness. Every soul he consumed made him stronger, and with each death, his mastery of the Nine Hells Demonic Codex deepened.
But Ao Yifan knew that mere power was not enough. To truly dominate, to carve his name into the annals of history, he needed more. He needed influence. He needed to control.
And so, his eyes turned toward the Blood Serpent Sect—the first of many factions that would fall before him. The sect was a minor but brutal power, its influence spreading like a plague across the region. Known for its cruelty and mastery of blood magic, the Blood Serpent Sect would be the perfect starting point for Ao Yifan's rise.
He would infiltrate their ranks, learn their secrets, and when the time was right, he would strike. Their power would become his own, and from there, he would begin his true ascent.
The world had yet to witness the horrors he was capable of. But it would. Soon enough, they would.
This chapter expands on Ao Yifan's deepening immersion into the demonic cultivation path, his growing strength, and the realization that survival alone isn't enough—he must secure influence and power, laying the groundwork for his eventual domination. His ruthless nature is highlighted as he takes out those in his way, and the chapter introduces the Blood Serpent Sect, hinting at the future challenges and steps in his journey.