The days following Ling Zhantian's death were a descent into darkness for the Ling family, each moment a suffocating reminder of their shattered lives. The shack, once a small sanctuary of warmth and hope, now stood as a hollow shell, its walls echoing with the ghosts of laughter and love that had long since faded. Ling Tianhao sat in the corner, his small frame curled into a ball, his dark eyes staring blankly at the dirt floor. At thirteen years old, he was a boy broken by the world—his father murdered, his friend Mei Lian sold into slavery, and his mother a shadow of the woman she once was. The single copper coin he had earned, still lying where it had fallen, mocked him with its uselessness, a cruel symbol of his failure to save his family.
Ling Xueyin sat across from him, her once-gentle hands now trembling as she clutched her knees, her eyes hollow and unseeing. The assault by Gu Shan, the death of her husband, and the relentless cruelty of Tianxu had stripped her of her strength, leaving behind a woman who could no longer bear the weight of her suffering. She hadn't spoken since the news of Zhantian's death, her voice silenced by grief, her face pale as death itself. Tianhao watched her, his heart aching with a pain he couldn't name, a pain that mingled with the burning hatred in his chest. "Mother… we still have each other," he said, his voice low and hoarse, the words more for himself than for her. He crawled to her side, his small hand reaching for hers, her fingers cold and lifeless in his grasp. "I'll find a way… I'll make them pay."
Xueyin turned to him, her tear-streaked eyes meeting his, a flicker of her old warmth breaking through the despair. "Tianhao… I don't know what's left for me," she whispered, her voice trembling, her words heavy with a sorrow that cut deeper than any blade. She squeezed his hand, her grip weak but desperate, as if trying to hold onto the last shred of hope she had left. But that hope was a fragile thing, a candle flickering in a storm, and Tianxu was a storm that showed no mercy. The weight of her husband's death, the violation she had endured, and the fear of what Gu Shan might do next—to her, to her son—pressed down on her like a mountain, crushing her spirit with every passing moment.
That afternoon, Tianhao left the shack, his small body driven by a desperate need to do something—anything—to save what was left of his family. He returned to the Gray Stone Sect's courtyard, sweeping the dust with a broom that felt heavier than ever, his hands raw and bleeding from the effort. He overheard whispers among the disciples—rumors of the Forbidden Forest, a cursed place at the edge of Yunchuan, sealed thousands of years ago to imprison ancient demons. "They say the Demon Book is hidden there," one disciple muttered, his voice tinged with fear. "A tome of demonic cultivation that can make you stronger than the heavens in a single night… but no one's ever come back alive. Even Grand Elder Yan Huo of the Sacred Flame Sect vanished there." Tianhao's hands tightened on the broom, the words echoing in his mind. Power… a power that could make him strong enough to protect his mother, to avenge his father, to bring Mei Lian back. But the cost… the cost was something he couldn't yet fathom.
He returned to the shack as the sun began to set, his small pouch holding two copper coins—still far from the two silver coins they owed, but a step closer. He pushed open the door, his heart heavy with exhaustion, hoping to see his mother waiting for him, perhaps with a faint smile, a sign that they could still survive this nightmare. But the sight that greeted him stopped him cold, his breath catching in his throat, his body freezing in the doorway. Xueyin stood in the center of the shack, her tattered dress hanging loosely on her frail frame, her hands trembling as she held a small, rusted knife—the same knife she used to cut firewood, its blade dull but sharp enough for what she intended. Her eyes were wide, filled with a haunting mix of despair and resolve, her face pale as snow.
"Mother… what are you doing?" Tianhao whispered, his voice trembling, his heart pounding with a fear he couldn't name. But before he could move, the door creaked open behind him, and a familiar, sinister presence filled the room. Gu Shan stepped inside, his fat face twisted into a lecherous grin, his gray robe billowing as he entered, his Early Lianqi Stage aura pressing down on the shack like a suffocating weight. "Xueyin, I've grown tired of waiting," he said, his voice dripping with malice, his eyes glinting with a hunger that made Tianhao's stomach churn. "Your husband is dead, and you have no one left to protect you. Come with me tonight… or I'll take the boy instead."
Xueyin's hands shook, her grip on the knife tightening, her eyes darting between Gu Shan and Tianhao. "Stay away from my son!" she screamed, her voice raw with desperation, her body trembling as she stepped back. Gu Shan laughed, a cold, cruel sound, and took a step closer, his hand reaching for her. "You have no choice, woman," he sneered, his fingers brushing her arm, the same arm he had marked with his cruelty before. But Xueyin's resolve hardened, her eyes flashing with a final, defiant fire. "I'd rather die than let you touch me again!" she cried, her voice breaking, and with a swift, trembling motion, she raised the knife to her throat and slashed.
Blood sprayed across the shack, a crimson arc that splattered the dirt floor, staining the walls with the last of Xueyin's life. Her body crumpled to the ground, her tattered dress soaking in the growing pool of red, her eyes wide and unseeing, staring at the ceiling as if searching for a peace she had never found in Tianxu. Tianhao's scream tore through the silence, a sound so raw and broken that it seemed to shake the very walls, his small body lunging toward her. "Mother! No!" he cried, his hands shaking as he fell to his knees beside her, his fingers clutching at her lifeless form, her blood staining his hands, his tears falling onto her pale face.
Gu Shan stood frozen for a moment, his sneer replaced by a look of disgust, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Xueyin's body. "Foolish woman," he spat, his voice filled with contempt. "You'd rather die than serve me? Hah, you and your husband are the same—trash who don't know their place!" He turned to Tianhao, his gaze cold and unfeeling, a cruel smile curling his lips. "And you, boy… look at your mother—a weakling who couldn't even fight for her life, just like your father who died like a dog. You're nothing but filth, a stain on this world that will never amount to anything in Tianxu."
The words were a dagger in Tianhao's heart, each one twisting deeper, fueling the black flame of hatred that had been growing since his father's death. He looked up at Gu Shan, his tear-streaked face contorted with rage, his small fists clenching as he lunged forward, his voice a guttural scream. "I'll kill you!" he roared, his hands swinging wildly, but his blows were nothing to a cultivator of Gu Shan's level. Gu Shan laughed, a harsh, grating sound, and with a single kick, he sent Tianhao crashing into the wall, the fragile wood splintering under the impact. Tianhao crumpled to the floor, his body trembling with pain, his breath coming in ragged gasps, but his eyes never left Gu Shan, burning with a hatred that seemed to consume him.
"Killing you would be too easy," Gu Shan said, his voice cold and mocking, his eyes glinting with malice. "I have a better idea." He grabbed Tianhao by the collar, lifting his small body as if he were nothing more than a rag doll, and dragged him out of the shack, the boy's weak struggles useless against his strength. Gu Shan carried him through the village, his steps heavy and deliberate, until they reached the edge of Yunchuan, where the Forbidden Forest loomed like a gaping maw of darkness. The forest's black trees stretched into the sky, their twisted branches like skeletal hands, a thick, grayish-black mist swirling around them, exuding an aura of death and despair. Gu Shan threw Tianhao to the ground, his small body landing hard on the rocky earth, fresh wounds opening on his arms and legs. "Die here, you little brat," Gu Shan spat, his voice filled with contempt, before turning and walking away, his cruel laughter echoing through the night.
Tianhao lay on the ground, his body wracked with pain, his breath coming in shallow gasps, his blood mixing with the dirt beneath him. The image of his mother's lifeless body, her blood staining the shack, burned in his mind, mingling with the memory of his father's death, Mei Lian's cries, and Gu Shan's mocking words. His small hands clawed at the earth, his tears falling unchecked, his heart a storm of grief and rage. He was alone now, truly alone, with nothing left but the black flame of vengeance that burned brighter than ever. And as he lay there, the whispers he had heard in the sect courtyard echoed in his mind—the Forbidden Forest, the Demon Book, a power that could make him strong enough to destroy his enemies.
He pushed himself to his knees, his small body trembling, his eyes fixed on the dark expanse of the forest. "I'll survive," he whispered, his voice low and guttural, a vow to himself as much as to the world that had taken everything from him. "I'll find that book… I'll grow strong… and I'll make them all pay." The Forbidden Forest loomed before him, its mist swirling like a living thing, its whispers calling to him with promises of power—and death. But Tianhao was no longer afraid. If Tianxu was a world of demons, he would become the worst of them all. With a final, shuddering breath, he stood, his small frame silhouetted against the moon, and took his first step into the darkness, a boy forged in blood and pain, a boy who would one day become a terror even the heavens would fear.