The dusk danced behind the tips of the leaves, casting a gentle orange hue upon the earth that had just tasted death. The forest wind whispered softly, carrying the scent of blood, damp soil, and ruin. Amid that silence, between three corpses now cold and darkening, sat a youth whose body was torn and battered. His breath was ragged, and his gaze burned with the madness of a beast that had tasted blood for the very first time.
Mo Fan, his chest bare and arms covered in wounds, let out a low laugh. It was not joy, but a stifled cry of a soul being devoured by darkness.
"Heh... so this is... what killing feels like... so simple," he murmured, staring at his blood-soaked hands.
The Black Claw that once radiated a dreadful aura had begun to fade, yet the thirst for blood remained—no, it grew even stronger. A strange sensation stirred in his chest, like a starving beast howling to be fed again.
"Blood... I need... more blood..."
But his body trembled. The demonic energy inside him raged. His meridians darkened, his skin burned as if set alight from within. His face turned pale, then red, then pale again.
"This mortal body... is not yet ready to bear the power of the Devourer..." came the Demon God's voice in his mind—calm, yet filled with a wrath as ancient as the void.
Mo Fan bit his lip, forcing himself to remain conscious. He crawled toward the bush where the Violet Qi Leaf glowed in the twilight, like a pearl amidst a pool of blood.
Yet before his hand could touch the purple leaves...
Tap... Tap... Tap...
Footsteps. Light, delicate, nearly inaudible—save for the suffocating silence of the dusk.
From behind the evening mist emerged a girl. Her white robes fluttered gently, her raven-black hair tied in a simple knot, and her eyes shimmered with the clarity of a mountain lake. She looked like a celestial maiden lost upon a battlefield.
Su Wan'er stood frozen. Her gaze fell upon Mo Fan and the three corpses scattered around him. Her eyes widened.
"What... happened here...?"
Mo Fan turned, smirking. His face was battered and bloody, but his gaze still held that sinister glint.
"Heh... an angel descends... care to join them as corpse number four, fair maiden?"
Su Wan'er swiftly drew her sword. "You... you killed them?! Are you a demon?!"
Mo Fan chuckled, then coughed blood. He pointed to the emblem still barely clinging to the torn sleeve of his robe.
"Ancient Sky Sect... torn like a toxic relationship, but still recognizable, no?"
Su Wan'er narrowed her eyes. She stepped closer, cautiously.
"But your aura... it's so dark... almost like..."
"A demon? Yeah, yeah. You're the fourth to say that today," Mo Fan said, tilting his head. "But I haven't eaten anyone yet. Don't worry—unless you taste good."
Su Wan'er flushed. "Y-You...! How dare you flirt in your condition?! You're on the verge of death!"
"If I must die, let it be with a pretty face before me. Let the world be beautiful... as it fades."
Su Wan'er sighed heavily. She knelt beside him, placing her glowing hand upon his chest.
"I won't let you die. Not because you deserve saving... but because I can't bear to see anyone suffer like this."
As Su Wan'er's holy energy entered Mo Fan's body, a violent clash erupted. His body convulsed, his eyes widened. The demonic energy within his meridians howled, crashing against the sacred light like gods battling upon the field of the soul.
Mo Fan bit his tongue. His vision blurred. Amid the flashes of light, he saw... his mother's face—old and smiling, despite her exhaustion. Then the faces of his friends, their laughter warm and full of life. And... the face of the girl he never confessed to.
Whispers of the past clashed with the demon's roar.
"Kill them all... devour their souls... seize power..."
"Fan-ge... be good, or mama will scold you..."
"Never trust humans... only blood is loyal to you..."
"You died because of me, Fan... I'm sorry..."
Mo Fan roared. Blood dripped from his eyes, nose, and ears.
Su Wan'er screamed, "Hold on! Don't die! Don't absorb too much...!"
His body lifted briefly, then crashed back to the ground.
Silence.
Moments later, he coughed. His breath was heavy, but his eyes regained focus. Su Wan'er sat beside him, sweat pouring down her brow.
"You... you're alive."
Mo Fan grinned. "Of course. I haven't had my fill of your face yet." He looked up to the twilight sky, where blood and gold danced together.
"I know my path now. I need power—more than anything. I'll master the Black Slaughter Claw. I'll hunt whatever I must—beasts... men... even gods, if I must."
He rose slowly. His wounds still bled, yet his posture was proud—like a young demon king, reborn from hell.
Su Wan'er nodded slightly, unsure what to say. She simply watched the strange youth, staggering yet unbroken.
Mo Fan turned to the bush where the Violet Qi Leaf grew. Though his body trembled, his steps were steady. He reached for the plant, his fingers shaking as he touched the soft purple leaves, glowing like fallen stars.
"At last we meet, my little darling..." he whispered, gently uprooting it as if afraid to hurt it.
Su Wan'er frowned at his odd tenderness. "You're... still thinking about that plant after nearly dying?"
Mo Fan gave a crooked grin. "If I died before tasting this, I'd kill myself again."
"Master, can you teach me alchemy or how to refine pills?" Mo Fan whispered to the Demon God within his mind.
"That was my greatest mistake. Learning it was too dull and tedious," the Demon God growled in annoyance. "Better to eat it raw. So long as my body can digest it, I won't go to any alchemist—they're all too stingy to share knowledge."
"But if you could refine it into a pill, your cultivation would rise by two full stages," the Demon God added.
"Huff..." Mo Fan exhaled in frustration, powerless to act.
Then, in one reckless move, he tossed the level-1 Violet Qi Leaf into his mouth. Its bitter, cold taste spread across his tongue, then ignited into a burning heat in his chest. But this time, it was not pain that dropped him to the ground—it was the surge of power.
"Wait... aren't you supposed to refine that into a pill first?" Su Wan'er muttered as she watched him.
His body shook violently. The meridians, once ravaged by demonic energy, now expanded, hungrily absorbing the herb's power. Not only that—the three souls he had devoured began to boil in his dantian, like flames waiting for their final spark to explode.
A small explosion echoed from within.
Duumm!
Black aura burst from his pores, then sucked back into his body like a vortex of death. A crazed pressure enveloped him—the wind around Mo Fan ceased, as if time itself bowed to the birth of a new force.
Su Wan'er stepped back, eyes wide. "That... that's not early stage... That's... Qi Refining level two?! You just..."
Mo Fan opened his eyes. A violet gleam flickered within his pupils, then vanished—replaced by a wild, satisfied smile.
"Yep... leveled up again. This body craves blood and spirit herbs. A perfect combo."
Su Wan'er looked at him as though he were a creature from legend. "Impossible... Even true geniuses need time to advance a single level... but you... after nearly dying..."
Mo Fan stuck out his tongue and chuckled. "Maybe I'm no genius... but a curse wearing human skin."
He clenched his fist, feeling the pulse of power in his veins. The hunger remained, but now it was chained by a stronger will.
"I swear... the world will know. Will remember the name that shakes the heavens and sets hell ablaze. I... am Mo Fan. The bastard from Earth."
Su Wan'er, hearing his words, stared at him—wondering if he had truly lost his mind.