The night wind swept through the leaves, carrying a chill and the earthy scent tinged faintly with blood. Hidden behind a desolate cliff, Mo Fan sat cross-legged, his body still cloaked in wounds and dried blood. Yet in his eyes blazed the undying fire of a devil's will.
He had swallowed the Violet Qi Leaf raw. It tasted bitter as vengeance, but the energy it released surged wildly through his body, electrifying every fiber of his being. His meridians throbbed, and like a flood long restrained, spiritual force roared through him.
"Ughhh… Aaargh!" Mo Fan gritted his teeth, his voice cutting through the night. His body convulsed violently. Dark demonic qi clashed with the raw purity of the leaf's energy, forming a vortex in his dantian.
THUMP-THUMP! THUMP-THUMP!
The pounding echoed like war drums through his soul.
Su Wan'er turned sharply, her eyes wide in disbelief.
"Qi Refining… Second Level?!" Her voice cracked the silence like shattered glass.
Mo Fan slowly opened his eyes. A swirl of dark violet light flickered in his irises before fading. He smirked, wiped the black blood from the corner of his mouth, and looked at Su Wan'er, whose face was frozen between shock and caution.
"Well... let's just say… side effects of taking drugs without a prescription," he quipped dryly.
"Heh…"
"That's… impossible!" Su Wan'er stepped back. "Even if you consumed the Violet Qi Leaf, it should've taken weeks to stabilize the energy!"
"Maybe because I already digested three sinful souls beforehand?" Mo Fan shrugged nonchalantly, raising three fingers. "Tasted like triple-spice fried chicken."
Su Wan'er fell silent, staring at him deeply. Her breath caught. "You're… not an ordinary human."
"I'm not your average demon either, if that's what you're implying," he replied, grinning wide—before coughing violently.
HACKK! SPAT!
A splash of black blood hit the ground.
Moments later, his body jerked. His eyes flew wide, and he began to tremble.
"Ghh… Damn it… that voice again…" he muttered.
Whispers began slithering into his ears. "Rip… Devour… You hunger for power…" They slithered like snakes in his mind, rising from within.
"Mo Fan?! Are you alright?!" Su Wan'er rushed to his side, her face stricken.
Mo Fan clutched his head. Veins bulged at his temples. "Shut up! All of you! I'm in control—this is my body!!"
Suddenly, his arm moved on its own. A demonic claw materialized, slashing toward Su Wan'er.
WHUMP!
Mo Fan intercepted his own strike with his other hand and slammed his forehead into the ground.
CRACK!
Blood streamed down his face.
"I… am NOT… your puppet!" he snarled through gritted teeth.
This was the backlash of the Devourer technique—Wails of a Thousand Souls. The souls he had consumed, both human and beast, now howled within him. It was a constant struggle: he must dominate them—or be devoured in turn.
Su Wan'er trembled. Not from fear—but from the realization that the man before her was waging war… with himself.
That night, they took refuge in a small cave nestled beneath the roots of an ancient tree. A small fire crackled between them. Su Wan'er sat with knees hugged close, while Mo Fan lay back, eyes on the rocky ceiling above.
"You still haven't said… who you really are," Su Wan'er asked at last, voice soft yet steady.
Mo Fan sighed. "Me? Just a guy who died in another world and landed here. This world gave me a new body—but the pain and hatred came with me."
"Another world…?" Su Wan'er's brows furrowed.
"Call it a joke of fate. Doesn't matter now. I'm here—and I don't plan on dying easily."
Su Wan'er asked no further. But in her silence, a seed of realization took root: this man carried wounds deeper than the eye could see.
As Mo Fan drifted to sleep, Su Wan'er quietly opened her robe and pulled out a small communication charm, whispering an incantation. A faint blue glow shimmered.
"Secret report—Su Wan'er reporting. I have found an individual displaying the Devil's Seal on his left chest. Highly probable that he is the Devourer recorded in the Forbidden Heaven Codex."
Mo Fan slept for two whole days, exhausted from battle. At dawn on the third day—
Tap… tap… tap…
Footsteps echoed outside the cave.
Three figures in blood-red cloaks emerged from the shadows. One held a crumpled parchment—Mo Fan's likeness sketched crudely upon it.
The day before, while Mo Fan slept, chaos erupted elsewhere. Disciples from the Sword Sect had been found slain.
"BASTAAAARD!" roared Lin Ming, the Sect Leader.
SLAMM!
A nearby table exploded into splinters under his fist.
"W-What's wrong, Sect Master Lin?!" a trembling elder asked, stunned by the sudden rage.
Each disciple bore a soul mark placed upon them by Lin Ming himself. Upon their death, their memories returned to him like lightning. Now, he had seen the killer's face.
"Send this bastard's likeness to the Dark Hunt Sect! Three thousand gold coins—dead or alive!" Lin Ming growled, tossing the crumpled drawing.
"Yes, Sect Master!" the elder replied and departed at once.
One hour later, the elder arrived at the gates of the Dark Hunt Sect.
"What brings you here, sir?" a gatekeeper asked.
"We're looking for someone," the elder replied calmly.
"Come in, please."
Inside the grand hall, the leader of the Dark Hunt Sect—Yan Chuan—emerged.
"Yan Chuan, our Sword Sect is issuing a bounty." The elder handed him the parchment.
"You sure this is the guy?" Yan Chuan squinted at the image.
"Yes. He's hiding in the Valley of a Thousand Roots. Be warned, he's not alone."
Yan Chuan grinned. "We'll handle it. You'll get your payment once we have his head."
The elder's brow twitched. "We're just offering the info. What you do is your business."
Rough laughter echoed as they departed, the wanted poster still in Yan Chuan's grip.
Hours later…
"There he is. Thirty thousand gold coins. Dead or alive," muttered one of the bounty hunters, voice gravelly. All three exuded a deadly aura—each at Qi Refining Level Three.
Mo Fan cracked one eye open, then groaned. "Ughh… Could you not bother me before I've even farted this morning?" He yawned widely. "Haaaah…"
The bounty hunters remained silent, drawing their weapons.
SHING!
Blades glinted in the firelight.
"Stay back, Wan'er," Mo Fan murmured. His eyes lit with madness. A dark aura coiled around him, and his face twisted with bloodlust.
A black claw burst from his arm—thicker, colder than before. A shadowy mist trailed behind it as his bones cracked ominously.
CRACK... CRAAACK!
"Black Slaughter Claw…"
"Flank him! Don't let him breathe!" barked the spear-wielder.
WHOOSH!
SLASH!
A phantom claw attacked from the right—while the real strike came from the left. Blood sprayed. One hunter slammed into the rocks.
THUMP!
"You bastard!" the spearman shouted, lunging.
SWISH!
Mo Fan blocked it barehanded.
CLANG!
Sparks flew. He countered with a kick to the chest.
THUDD!
Bones snapped. Another foe collapsed.
CRUNCH! THUMP!
The last hunter screamed, "Crimson Wind Slash!" A wave of red energy shot toward Mo Fan.
Mo Fan raised his palm. Dark energy spiraled.
"Devourer Palm!"
BOOOOM!
The blast leveled brush and stone. When the dust settled, the third hunter knelt—his chest hollowed out. He collapsed, lifeless.
Su Wan'er stood frozen, breath shallow. Her eyes trembled in disbelief.
"Three men… Qi Refining Level Three… Slaughtered like lambs…" she whispered.
Mo Fan staggered to his feet, laughing madly.
"Hahaha! Hahhhahaahah!!"
Laughter filled with triumph, release, and insanity.
"This world… tastes better with a little blood," he muttered, gazing skyward.
Su Wan'er watched him, expression unreadable. She did not know if she stood beside a savior… or a devil smiling through scars.