Jian Mu stood at the edge of the training grounds near the entrance of the academy, watching as young disciples of the Heavenly Demon Sect practiced their forms. Their movements were sharp, precise—each strike carrying the ruthless efficiency that the sect was known for. Yet, despite their skill, none of them spared him a second glance.
He had long since become invisible to them.
The Heavenly Demon Sect, once feared across the lands, was now fractured, its power split among multiple clans. In its prime, it had ruled with an iron fist, dominating the martial world with the might of its warriors and the fearsome techniques of its ancestors. But years of internal conflict and betrayal had turned it into a breeding ground for ambition and backstabbing.
Jian Mu's father, Lord Jian Taishen, was the sect leader, but his rule was constantly challenged by his own wives and their clans, each seeking to secure their own bloodline's dominance. Among them, Jian Mu's mother—an outsider, a mere commoner—had been the weakest.
And so, when she died, her clan lost what little influence it had. Jian Mu, her only son, had become nothing more than an unwanted ghost within his own home.
His half-brothers and sisters trained under esteemed masters. He was given scraps.
They wielded weapons forged by the finest smiths. He fought with bare hands.
They were destined for greatness. He had been left to rot.
Yet, today, everything would change.
Today, he was finally joining the Heavenly Demon Academy.
The academy was the proving ground for the sect's future leaders, a place where only the most talented and ruthless disciples could thrive. If he survived, if he climbed high enough, he could finally claim the power he had been denied.
It wasn't just about proving himself.
It was about revenge.
Jian Mu turned away from the training grounds and walked toward the entrance of the academy, where the Academy's new recruits were being gathered.
He could feel the eyes of the other disciples on him—some filled with disdain, others amusement. He had never belonged here, not truly, and they all knew it.
"Look who finally decided to crawl out of the dirt," a voice sneered.
Jian Mu stopped. He recognized that voice instantly.
Jian Yuren.
One of his older half-brothers. A favored son of one of the stronger clans.
Tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in robes embroidered with golden threads, he was everything Jian Mu was not—respected, admired, powerful.
Jian Mu said nothing, his fingers twitching at his side. He knew better than to rise to the bait.
Yuren smirked. "You actually think they'll let you in? The Academy isn't a place for dogs."
A few other disciples laughed.
Jian Mu met his brother's gaze, expression unreadable.
Yuren's smirk faltered, if only for a second. There was something different about Jian Mu now. The usual look of resignation was gone, replaced with something colder.
The silence stretched before Yuren scoffed and turned away. "Try not to embarrass yourself," he muttered before walking off.
Jian Mu exhaled slowly. His heart was steady, his mind clear.
The voices in his head had not spoken since that night in the ruins. But the presence was still there, lingering beneath the surface. Waiting.
He would not waste this chance.
The Academy would be the first step.
And when the time was right, he would tear down everything that had been stolen from him.
---
End of Chapter 2