In the jagged southern ranges where sunlight rarely touched the forest floor, blood ran thicker than rain. The air reeked of iron and rotting corpses. Among the crooked trees, a battered figure stumbled—his demonic robes torn, his spiritual core dimming with each step.
He coughed violently, blackened blood staining his lips.
"Why... why are you hunting me?" he spat into the darkness. "You're one of us! A fellow demon path cultivator!"
A voice answered from the void. Calm, cold, unfeeling.
"Because my master wills it. And the weak... must be culled."
Hei Mo stepped from the shadows, black robes fluttering like wings of death. His expression didn't change as he raised his hand. In a single gesture, a spear of black energy erupted from his palm and pierced the man's heart.
Silence.
The dying cultivator crumpled to the ground, lifeless. Hei Mo crouched, rifling through the corpse's belongings, collecting pills, spirit stones, and scrolls. He stood and vanished once more into the wilderness.
Over the next ten days, the forests became graveyards. Hei Mo and his elite subordinates moved like shadows through the mountains. Their mission: slaughter and seize.
Thirty-six demonic cultivators fell to their ambushes.
Loot piled high. Spiritual materials, blood-soaked techniques, ancient manuals—all collected and marked for return to Xuan Long. Cultivators began whispering among themselves. A phantom was slaughtering their kind.
But blood attracts predators.
One moonless night, in a narrow mountain pass, a terrifying pressure descended.
"BASTARD! YOU DARE SLAY MY CLAN?!"
A voice roared like thunder. The sky split.
A massive man crashed to the ground, shaking the mountain itself. Muscles like boulders, eyes glowing red, fangs exposed—a Core Formation Level 4 elder of the Tiger Demonic Clan.
Without a word, he launched into combat. Flaming fists struck like meteors. Hei Mo and his squad were thrown back instantly, injuries ripping through their flesh. Blood sprayed. Cries echoed.
Hei Mo staggered to his feet.
"Release," he whispered.
From his side, a massive corpse puppet emerged. At Core Formation Level 4, its rotten flesh burned with unholy energy. It lunged at the elder, meeting fire with fury.
The mountain exploded in tremors.
Puppet and elder clashed repeatedly, devastating everything within a mile. Trees fell. Stones shattered. Screams of the damned echoed through the valley.
But the elder was slowing.
Seizing his chance, Hei Mo summoned a rare item—a black crystal blade, found among the loot of a fallen demon cultivator. Pouring his essence into the blade, he launched an empowered attack.
The elder raised his defense too late.
The corpse puppet's claw pierced his chest.
"Impossible...!" the elder gasped.
Moments later, his body exploded into black mist. Hei Mo dropped to one knee, panting heavily.
Then, with steady hands, he extracted the corpse and refined it. Hours passed. The screams of a dying soul echoed across the realm.
When he stood again, a second Core Formation Level 4 Blood Puppet stood beside him.
Hei Mo grinned.
"We're done here," he said. "We return to the master."
His squad, bloodied but alive, obeyed without question. They carried the corpses, the stolen relics, the severed heads—testaments to their ruthless success.
But they had not gone unnoticed.
High in a hidden cavern, a scout knelt before a throne made of bones. A single torch cast flickering shadows.
"Clan Lord... the elder has fallen."
The leader of the Tiger Demonic Clan slowly stood. His face twisted in fury.
"By who?" he demanded.
"Not righteous sects. Another demon cultivator... a rogue."
The hall filled with cold silence.
"A demon slaying demons?" The clan lord growled. "He wants to cleanse us? Fool. Spread the word to all demonic sects—a traitor walks among us. A shadow. A butcher."
He slammed his fist into the bone throne, cracking it.
"Put a bounty on his head. Let him know what it means to be hunted."
And so it spread.
Throughout the black halls of the demonic underworld, the whispers grew louder.
"A rogue slayer walks the forests."
"He has no clan. No code. Only death."
They gave him names:
The Demon Butcher.
The Rogue Devourer.
Shadow of the South.
And in his master's mountain, Hei Mo knelt before Xuan Long.
"Mission complete, Master. Two puppets at Core Formation. Thirty-six kills. Fear is spreading."
Xuan Long, seated in shadow, opened his eyes slowly. Crimson light flickered within.
"Good. Let them fear."
His voice echoed through the hall like a prophecy.
"We are not righteous. We are not demonic. We are the third path."
"And soon... the world will kneel."