The sun hung low over the towering peaks of the Black Veil Demonic Sect, its crimson light barely penetrating the thick mists that clung to the mountains. The sect's sprawling territory stretched for miles, its towering pagodas and stone halls looming over the lesser disciples like celestial giants. The air was thick with the scent of burning incense, mixed with the faint metallic tang of blood—a reminder of the brutal reality within these walls.
On the outskirts of the sect, nestled at the base of the smallest mountain, stood a dilapidated courtyard. The outer disciples called it Forgotten Peak, a place where only the weakest and most worthless members of the sect resided. It was here that Jiang Chen sat alone in his modest wooden hut, staring at the flickering candle before him.
His robes were tattered, dirt smeared across his face, and his body bore fresh bruises from the morning's humiliating defeat. He pressed his trembling fingers against his ribs, wincing as he felt the sharp pain beneath his skin. The injury was deep, a reminder of his earlier sparring session with Zhao Ming, one of the sect's more promising inner disciples.
"You're still too weak to be one of us, Jiang Chen."
The memory of Zhao Ming's cold sneer sent a surge of anger through him. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He had tried his best, had even pushed himself beyond his limits, yet it had made no difference. The outcome was the same—it always was.
Strength dictated everything in the Black Veil Demonic Sect. It was the law of the cultivation world itself. Those without power were nothing more than stepping stones for the strong, meant to be trampled upon and discarded.
Jiang Chen had no powerful bloodline, no hidden inheritance, no secret master guiding his steps. He was just another nameless disciple struggling to survive.
But something deep inside him refused to accept this fate.
"Strength… is everything," he muttered under his breath.
He had joined the sect three years ago, enduring endless humiliation, hoping to one day carve out his place among the powerful. Yet even after all this time, he remained at the very bottom. He had cultivated diligently, but his progress was slow. His martial techniques were crude, his spiritual energy unstable. If this continued, he would never rise above his current status.
He would always be worthless.
The thought made his chest tighten.
He exhaled, trying to calm himself. There was no point dwelling on it. He had to keep moving forward, even if the path was unclear.
The candle before him flickered suddenly, the flame twisting unnaturally.
Jiang Chen's eyes narrowed. A strange coldness filled the air. He turned his gaze downward and noticed a fragment of parchment half-buried in the dust beneath his cot. His brows furrowed as he reached for it, carefully pulling it free.
The paper was old, the ink barely legible, but as he brought it closer to the candlelight, his breath caught in his throat.
The Forbidden Path of Duality.
The words sent a shiver down his spine.
His heart pounded as he skimmed the first few lines. It described a cultivation method unlike anything he had ever heard of. It spoke of balancing righteous and demonic energy, a concept that defied the very foundation of the cultivation world.
No sect—righteous or demonic—would ever allow such a path to exist.
It was heretical.
Forbidden.
Jiang Chen's hands trembled as he turned the page. The text was fragmented, pieces missing, but what little remained hinted at a power beyond comprehension. It spoke of merging yin and yang energy, of tempering one's body and soul through the clash of opposing forces. It claimed that those who mastered this path could stand above both righteous and demonic cultivators, becoming something more.
A path that could lead to unparalleled strength… or utter destruction.
Jiang Chen's breathing grew heavy.
This was madness. Even the most radical demonic techniques followed a structured path. No one in history had ever cultivated two opposing energies at once. The mere attempt would likely shatter his foundation, rendering him crippled or worse.
And yet…
His fingers tightened around the parchment.
If this method was so dangerous, then why had someone recorded it? Why had this knowledge survived, buried here in Forgotten Peak?
Was this fate? Or was it just another cruel joke played by the heavens?
His mind raced.
He had spent years clawing his way forward, only to be ridiculed and cast aside at every turn. No matter how hard he tried, the so-called orthodox paths led him nowhere.
Perhaps… it was time to stop following the rules.
Jiang Chen exhaled slowly.
"If the world denies me a path to strength… then I will carve my own."
With that, he closed his eyes and began absorbing the first lesson.
As he focused on the words before him, he felt a strange energy stir within his dantian. It was weak at first, barely noticeable, but as he followed the breathing technique described in the text, something shifted.
A faint wisp of yin energy seeped into his meridians, cold and soothing. At the same time, a sliver of yang energy flickered in response, burning hot and wild.
They repelled each other violently, nearly tearing through his body.
Jiang Chen gritted his teeth, sweat beading on his forehead. The energies were clashing inside him! If he lost control, his meridians would be destroyed before he even took his first step.
But he refused to stop.
Through sheer willpower, he steadied his breathing, forcing the two energies to coexist within his dantian. The pain was unbearable, but in that agony, he felt something awakening.
Minutes passed.
Then an hour.
Finally, the resistance began to fade.
Jiang Chen opened his eyes, his vision sharper than before. His body still ached, but there was something different now. A strange sense of balance had settled within him, unlike anything he had ever experienced.
He had succeeded.
It was only the first step, but it was his step.
He didn't know what lay ahead. He didn't know if this path would lead him to glory or ruin. But one thing was certain—he would no longer be a stepping stone for others.
He would rise.
And if the world stood in his way, then he would burn it down.