The forest at dusk carries a deceptive stillness. A soft breeze stirs the leaves, and the distant chirp of unseen creatures echoes through the thick underbrush. It should be peaceful.
But Solar is restless.
De stands beneath a towering tree, bare-chested, muscles taut with exertion, sweat rolling down his back in slow rivulets. His breathing remains steady, controlled. Hours have passed in relentless training—refining the Domineering Demon Fist Style and the Domineering Demon Sword Style, shaping his movements to transition seamlessly between the two.
Even as his blade whispers through the air, Solar's ears flick. Her golden-violet eyes narrow at the shifting shadows beyond the clearing.
Something is wrong.
The forest stretches around them in solemn silence, draped in the deep hues of twilight. The air thickens, heavy with the scent of damp earth and overturned leaves. An oppressive weight lingers, slithering through the underbrush, winding around De like an invisible noose.
Something is coming.
Solar growls low and guttural, claws flexing against the dirt as her ears flatten. Her glowing eyes burn like smoldering embers, locked onto the trees beyond.
De exhales slowly, extending his senses outward.
Then, he feels it.
A thin veil of Qi—barely perceptible, but there, lingering around the treeline. Not thick like a body-tempering cultivator's presence. No, this is different. Refined. Denser. It pulses in rhythmic waves, subtle yet undeniable.
A Qi Refining cultivator.
His breath sharpens. Fingers wrap around the hilt of the long blade resting at his back—the demonic weapon once wielded by Cheon Ma Sin Gun. The grip tightens, veins bulging against his forearm.
This isn't a battle he can afford to fight at anything less than full force.
The forest holds its breath.
Then, the intruder moves.
A blur of motion drops from the trees, landing with a near-silent thud, feet barely disturbing the fallen leaves. The rogue cultivator straightens, already smirking, his silhouette framed by the dying embers of daylight filtering through the branches.
Lean but wiry, his posture carries the confidence of the strong—or the foolish. His travel-worn robes, faded and frayed, bear the unmistakable stains of old blood. His sharp, predatory face twists with amusement, his eyes glinting with the kind of hunger that sends weaker men scurrying.
Not a sect disciple. Not some hopeful candidate seeking to prove himself.
A hunter.
And De is his prey.
"Not bad," the rogue muses, voice smooth as silk wrapped around a blade. His gaze flickers from De to Solar, lingering too long. "I thought the rumors of a hidden cave were just village nonsense, but it seems I've found something much more interesting."
His eyes gleam, dark and avaricious.
"That beast of yours… and that sword… treasures wasted on a nobody."
De says nothing.
His mind shifts, mapping out the battle. Escape isn't an option. Even with Shadow Phantom Steps, there's no guarantee he can outrun a Qi Refining cultivator—especially not with Solar at his side.
Fighting is the only path forward.
His hand slips into his satchel, fingers finding a familiar small pill bottle.
Body Reinforcement Pills.
Two slip past his lips in a single motion. The bitter taste barely registers before raw heat erupts in his veins. His body tightens, muscles surging as the fatigue from days of training burns away in an instant.
Without hesitation, he pulls another pill and tosses it to Solar.
She catches it between her teeth, swallows, and her Qi flares violently. The ground trembles as her claws dig into the dirt, golden-violet energy rippling across her sleek, black form.
The rogue raises a brow, intrigued rather than concerned. "Ah… so you are aware of what's about to happen."
He steps forward, his own Qi coiling outward—tendrils slithering around his arms. Unlike De's controlled circulation, the rogue's energy is wild, raw, a twisting mass of brute force. Inferior in technique, but vast in quantity.
De breathes deep.
He cannot afford to test the waters.
He has to strike first.
Shadow Phantom Steps.
His form vanishes.
To the untrained eye, it seems as if De ceases to exist, his body melting into flickering afterimages that dart around the rogue like wraiths.
But the cultivator doesn't falter.
Just as De's blade slices in from the blind spot—
The rogue moves.
A burst of Qi-propelled speed hurls him sideways, avoiding the strike with mere inches to spare. But De is already pivoting, twisting mid-stride, redirecting his force.
A second attack—this time laced with elemental Qi.
As the blade tears through the air, a crackling arc of lightning ignites along its edge—an imperfect but potent fraction of the power he has honed in training.
The rogue's smirk vanishes.
The electric edge bites into his sleeve, splitting fabric and searing flesh. He hisses, stepping back as blood trickles down his forearm.
For the first time, he looks irritated.
"Elemental Qi?" His lips curl back, eyes darkening. "That's a surprise."
De exhales, suppressing the burn in his meridians from the sudden power output. His body still resists integrating elements into combat.
But it was enough to wound him.
Solar takes her chance.
With a low snarl, she lunges—claws igniting with violet Qi, slashing for the rogue's exposed flank.
He catches her mid-air.
His hand snaps around her throat, halting her momentum completely. His other palm thrusts forward—a savage, Qi-infused strike, aimed straight at her ribs.
De's heart lurches.
The impact sends Solar crashing into a tree, bark splintering under the force. She lands hard, a sharp whimper escaping her throat.
She does not rise.
No.
No.
Solar—the only one he kept close. The only constant. The placeholder in his heart for his brothers.
His fault.
He should have reinforced the formations. He had improved them. Hadn't he?
Had his arrogance finally bested him?
When had he, the man whose caution had pulled him from countless perilous fights on Earth, become this foolish?
Training out in the open because he was no longer afraid of the beasts in the area.
Had his time in the village numbed him to the harsher world he thought he understood?
The rogue chuckles, shaking out his injured arm. "And here I thought this would be fun."
De's breathing frays. Too shallow. Too fast.
No. No, no, no— NO.
His fingers find the small vial.
The Berserking Pill.
He swallows.
And then— the world shatters.
Pain. Heat. Power.
Too much.
An inferno rages through his veins, burning reason, devouring restraint. It sears into his bones, consuming his senses in a storm of raw, unchecked Qi.
Something deep inside cracks.
The world fractures, tilting into something warped, something nightmarish.
A familiar darkness—one he buried long ago—laughs in the void.
"Finally."