The forest was a graveyard of shadows.
Zhang Yan moved through it like a specter, his steps silent, his breathing steady. The recent breakthrough to the Shadow Assimilation Layer had left his body humming with newfound strength. His muscles felt denser, his qi more potent, and the wound Wu Jian had inflicted; the gash that should have crippled him, was now little more than a flesh wound. The Devouring Nine Shadows technique had accelerated his healing, but not completely. A dull throb lingered in his side, a reminder that even the darkness had its limits.
He flexed his fingers, testing the subtle changes in his control. His shadow, once a passive extension of his form, now coiled around his feet with an unnatural vitality. It shifted with his intent, responding to the faintest stirrings of his will. The second layer of the technique had unlocked a deeper connection to the darkness, transforming his shadow into something alive, something dangerous.
Shadow Assimilation…
The scriptures had been clear: this was the stage where a cultivator's shadow became more than a mere absence of light. It was a weapon, a shield, an extension of the self. Wu Jian had begun to grasp it before his death, using his shadow to attack and restrain. But Zhang Yan had surpassed him. He could feel it in the way his shadow moved, in the way it pulsed with his qi, as if it were a second heartbeat.
A low murmur of satisfaction stirred within him.
Yet power alone was not enough. He had only glimpsed the true potential of his cultivation. There was more, much more, to be unlocked. But first, he needed to survive.
The night wasn't over.
The air in the forest was thick with the stench of death, the scent of blood clinging to the damp earth like a ghostly perfume. The weaker disciples had already fallen, their bodies left to rot in the undergrowth. Only the strongest remained.
Zhang Yan's expression darkened.
He wasn't the only one who had awakened.
The others would be hunting now, just as he was. Each of the awakened was fighting for more than just survival; they were fighting for dominance, for the right to carve their names into the bloodstained history of the Demon Sect.
And that meant sooner or later, he would have to face them.
A flicker of movement in the trees ahead snapped him from his thoughts. He halted, his fingers tightening around his dagger. His shadow slithered, lengthening as he adjusted his stance.
Something or someone, was watching him.
The silence stretched.
Then, a voice.
"Well, well… I was wondering when I'd run into one of the others..."
A figure, then stepped forward from the darkness.