Morning sunlight streamed through the faded curtains of the quiet room, casting a warm glow on the wooden floor. Dust danced in the light, slow and peaceful.
Xuan Long sat cross-legged against the far wall, his back straight, robes loose, and arms gently wrapped around the sleeping form of the little girl. Her breathing was soft, steady, and untroubled—a stark contrast to the broken soul she had been days ago.
For the first time in ages, his crimson eyes had softened.
He watched her breathe, every small inhale and exhale like music.
"I once thought of raising her as a cultivator," he whispered to himself.
"But no... before that, I want to give her something far more precious."
He clenched his fists tightly, a silent fury simmering behind his eyes.
"A childhood."
His jaw tightened. The shadows in his heart stirred.
"And those ministers... when I return, your deaths will be carved into legend."
A soft yawn broke the silence.
The little girl stirred, rubbing her sleepy eyes with her fists. She looked up, meeting Xuan Long's gaze for the first time that morning. Her body tensed as she quickly lowered her head.
Xuan Long smiled, gently lifting her chin.
"What's your name?"
She hesitated, fear flickering across her face.
"...Xiao Xue," she whispered.
His smile deepened, warm as spring light.
"Xiao Xue," he repeated. "A name as pure as snow. From now on... you're my little sister."
She blinked up at him, her lips trembling. She didn't speak, but this time, she didn't flinch away.
That day, for the first time in years, Xuan Long didn't train.
He stayed beside Xiao Xue.
He fed her—warm rice porridge with berries, soft bread with honey. He cleaned her wounds, applied salves to her scars. He bought her new clothes: a beautiful pink dress embroidered with soft white lotus petals, a silk ribbon for her hair, and more toys—wooden birds, a dancing paper crane talisman, and another stuffed rabbit.
She laughed once. A small sound. Weak, but real.
At night, when she curled up beside him, clinging tightly to his robes as if afraid he'd disappear, she whispered through sleepy breath:
"Please don't leave me... I want to stay with you..."
He wrapped an arm around her and held her close.
"I'm not going anywhere," he whispered back. "Not now. Not ever."
And somewhere deep in his soul, a piece long buried finally found peace.
Meanwhile – Blood Fang Mountain Fortress
Back at the fortress, the wind howled over jagged cliffs. Mu Chen sat in deep meditation, his aura flickering with faint traces of breakthrough energy.
Suddenly, he opened his eyes.
He sensed it.
Footsteps. Qi signatures. Many.
He stood and walked to the edge of the stone hall. What he saw made his eyes narrow.
Dozens of Lu Family members were approaching the valley—an elite squad. Their Patriarch, several elders, and dozens of armored enforcers stood at the front, exuding righteous fury.
Their leader sneered.
"You dare show your face after killing members of our noble clan?!"
Mu Chen stepped forward, calm and cold.
"You've made the biggest mistake of your lives."
He raised a hand.
In the next moment, shadows shifted.
Demi-humans appeared, stepping from illusory veils.
Mu Chen's group assembled, their weapons gleaming.
And behind them—five demonic cultivators emerged, aura wild, eyes glowing with bloodlust.
The Lu Patriarch laughed.
"Even if you're stronger than before, you're still insects. I am Foundation Realm Level 3!"
But strength alone wasn't enough.
Poison fog spread across the battlefield, thick and paralyzing.
The demi-humans launched illusions—one elder suddenly saw his allies as enemies and turned on them. Another felt his limbs vanish. Another screamed, falling to his knees as his cultivation scattered in a dream.
The five demonic cultivators howled, tearing through the enforcers with dark blades and cruel talismans.
Chaos. Screams. Blood.
"What kind of formation is this?!"
"I can't see!"
"ARGHHHH!"
The Lu Patriarch, realizing the tide was against him, charged forward in desperation.
He raised a spirit blade—aimed for Mu Chen.
But a blur intercepted him.
Hei Mo appeared behind him like a shadow.
SHHHING.
Both of the patriarch's arms were severed in one clean strike.
He screamed, falling to his knees.
"You should've stayed away," Hei Mo said coldly.
"Now... watch your entire family be erased."
The demonic cultivators roared, killing without mercy. The Lu Family members tried to retreat. They couldn't.
It was a slaughter.
The Lu Patriarch coughed blood.
"You think this is the end?" he hissed. "We are only one branch... the main family is far stronger. They'll come."
Hei Mo smiled darkly.
"Then let them come."
And he crushed the man's heart with his bare hand.
The Plunder
The five demonic cultivators returned from the Lu Family estate with massive gains:
Over 1,000 mid-grade spirit stones
Foundation-level righteous skill books
Rare poison, sword, and defensive techniques
Mid-grade defensive and offensive artifacts
Pure-path cultivation manuals
Mu Chen and the demi-humans received skill books tailored to their specialties. Mu Chen began cultivating a new silent-step assassination art, while the demi-humans studied a high-tier mirage technique that could bend light.
Meanwhile, Hei Mo refined the remaining blood pills from their previous demonic raid.
He sat beneath a glowing blood formation, his aura rising sharply.
Foundation Realm – Mid Stage
His five followers weren't far behind. With pills in hand and techniques mastered, they would soon reach the threshold of the Foundation Realm.
Xuan Long's army no longer resembled a ragtag group.
It had become a rising force—
Forged by pain.
Tempered by darkness.
Loyal to one name.
Xuan Long.
And his enemies?
They were growing fewer.