Jiang Feng returned to the mountain clearing just as the first hints of dawn touched the sky. His clothes were drenched in blood—none of it his own. He walked with a casual stride, as if he had merely gone for an evening stroll.
The Sword Demon sat on a jagged rock, watching the boy approach with an amused expression. "Back already?"
Jiang Feng shrugged. "They were weak."
The old man chuckled. "And? Did you enjoy yourself?"
Jiang Feng licked his lips, his grin widening. "For a little while. But they died too fast."
The Sword Demon's eyes gleamed with approval. "Good. Then we'll make sure your next opponents last longer."
He stood and gestured toward the blood staining Jiang Feng's hands. "How does it feel?"
Jiang Feng flexed his fingers, watching the dried crimson crack along his skin. "Natural."
The old man barked a laugh. "A born killer." He turned, motioning for Jiang Feng to follow. "Come. Your real training begins now."
Jiang Feng raised an eyebrow. "That wasn't real?"
The Sword Demon grinned. "That was a test. Now, you'll learn how to kill warriors, not insects."
They walked deeper into the mountain, past cliffs and ravines, until they reached a secluded valley.
Swords.
Hundreds of rusted, broken, and shattered blades littered the ground, half-buried in the dirt. At the center of the valley stood a single massive stone monolith, covered in ancient carvings.
Jiang Feng stepped forward, running his fingers over the inscriptions. He could feel something beneath the surface—something alive.
"What is this?"
"The legacy of my sect," the Sword Demon said, his voice quieter than before. "The remnants of a path long abandoned."
Jiang Feng turned to him. "Your sect?"
The old man's smile faded. "The Nine Hells Sword Sect."
Jiang Feng had heard the name before. A sect feared and hated, wiped out decades ago. Their techniques were said to be monstrous, forbidden even among the most ruthless assassins.
The Sword Demon placed a hand on the stone. "This is where I trained. Where I bled. Where I became what I am."
He turned to Jiang Feng, his crimson eyes burning. "And now, it is your turn."
Jiang Feng felt a shiver of excitement. "Show me."
The old man smirked. "Very well. But be warned—this will not be like your fight with the bandits. This will break you."
Jiang Feng laughed. "Then hurry up. I'm getting bored."
The Sword Demon raised a single finger.
And the valley came alive.
The broken swords trembled. The wind howled. A sharp, invisible pressure filled the air—Jiang Feng's body tensed, every muscle screaming in protest.
He couldn't breathe.
It was as if countless swords were pressing against his skin, threatening to slice him apart.
The Sword Demon's voice echoed through the valley.
"Welcome to Hell."