The sun was setting, but Little Dark (Xiao An) saw no beauty in it. To him, the world had always been wrapped in twilight. He walked along a narrow forest trail, boots caked in dust, his black robes fluttering like torn shadows behind him. It had been months since he separated from his brothers. Unlike them, he didn't seek glory, love, or understanding. He sought knowledge—secrets hidden in the dark.
He had visited countless villages, hoping for traces of lost cultivation arts or old forbidden paths, but all he found were smiles hiding fear and eyes that looked away. The common folk knew nothing. Or if they did, they were too afraid to speak.
"Too clean," he muttered under his breath, stepping past a silent well. "All these villages… too clean. No corruption. No darkness left to follow."
The world feared darkness. So, it buried it. But Little Dark knew that only in shadow could true power rise. A fragment of a vision—some distant whisper of destiny—drew him forward.
One evening, while passing a crumbling bridge, he overheard a conversation between two cloaked travelers.
"…they say it's under the old mountain ruins. The Light Market. Anything illegal goes there. Forbidden pills. Cursed arts. Even information about dark cultivators."
He didn't hesitate. That night, he followed the trail west, descending into a foggy valley, until he reached a cluster of ancient ruins surrounded by warding talismans and glowing formations. At its heart, hidden behind illusory stone, was a grand staircase leading downward—into the Light Market, a paradoxical place where light cloaked shadows.
He paid a spirit stone to enter. Inside, stalls glimmered with cursed trinkets, cages held demonic beasts, and sellers whispered of items not meant for daylight.
He moved like a ghost through the crowd, his aura faint, his spiritual sense extended. He found an information broker at the far edge of the market—an old woman with one eye and lips stained black with spiritual ink.
"You want dark cultivator lore?" she rasped, her breath thick with soul incense. "What's the price?"
"I have soul stones," he replied.
"Not enough. What else?"
He stared into her remaining eye. "My shadow."
She grinned. "Accepted."
She whispered names. Dark Valley, Obsidian Fangs, Blood Trial Matches, Queen of the Night Palace.
As he turned to leave, a hand gripped his shoulder. It was the Market Manager, a broad-shouldered cultivator in golden robes. "You're not from here," he said flatly. "Show me your token."
Little Dark said nothing. He raised his hand—and shadows pulsed from his palm, striking the man's chest with pure Yin energy. The manager staggered back, shouting. Guards rushed in. The market fell into chaos.
Little Dark vanished into a thick illusion mist, heart pounding. "Damn it…"
He had just made himself a wanted man in the Light Market.
---
For three days, he wandered, hunted. Spirit sense constantly scanned the terrain. Finally, he found a hidden tunnel beneath an abandoned burial shrine, lined with black moss and echoing with whispers. It led to the Dark Valley—a vast underground land, untouched by sunlight, ruled by its own law: power.
The Dark Valley was a savage kingdom of stone and crimson mist, where only the cruel and cunning thrived. At the heart of the valley was a coliseum—The Pit—where dark cultivators tested their fate in Death Matches.
Little Dark stood in the waiting tunnel, watching blood splatter on sand.
"New blood?" asked the announcer.
He nodded. "Name?"
"Shadow One."
"Fine. Get in there."
His first opponent was a blade dancer—fast, erratic. But Little Dark was calm. Too calm. His every step whispered of death. After a brief exchange, he used Soul Thread Bind to entangle the opponent's mind, then struck her pressure points. She collapsed without a sound.
I don't need to kill, he thought. I just need your energy.
He placed his palm over her chest, absorbing a portion of her life force through his Devouring Vein, a dark art inherited from a remnant scroll.
The crowd roared. They liked him.
Three victories later, he left with a bag of black-grade spirit stones and a rare dark pill.
But someone else had noticed him—a VIP, a presence hidden behind black crystal windows high above the arena.
---
That night, in a tattered inn near the edge of the valley, he was resting, patching up internal wounds using soul fire and dark herbs. He didn't sense the trackers until they were too close. Two cultivators in black uniforms burst into his room.
"You're coming with us."
Little Dark smiled coldly. "No."
He struck without warning. One he crippled, the other he drained completely, absorbing enough essence to restore his injuries. When he left the room, blood stained the floor, and the innkeeper trembled in silence.
But more were waiting.
This time, the VIP herself arrived—a woman with long black hair, crimson lips, and eyes that seemed to see through everything. Her robes were royal black with violet trim, her presence commanding.
"I saw your matches," she said. "Your darkness isn't borrowed. It's yours. What's your name?"
"Shadow One."
"Liar," she smiled. "But I like it. Come with me."
"I don't serve anyone."
"You won't be serving. You'll be… satisfying."
Little Dark blinked.
She laughed softly. "I'm the Queen of the Dark Country. I rule everything beneath this land. Men like you are rare. Stay in my palace. Eat, sleep, train. Heal. That's all."
"And in return?"
She stepped closer, fingers brushing his chest. "Your presence. For now."
He hesitated.
She turned to leave. "Do what you want. But if you leave tonight, you'll be hunted by those Light Market dogs."
He stayed.
---
Days passed in strange luxury. The palace was quiet but heavy with energy. The Queen was rarely seen, but her presence echoed in every corner. Once, she passed him in the hallway, and he smelled the faint scent of night-blooming orchids.
They didn't speak often, but she left scrolls and pills for him. He absorbed energy in meditation, refining it into dark qi. Every night, he walked the halls, and sometimes he heard her voice humming from her chambers—lonely, aching.
One day, a black-cloaked figure arrived. It was Little Death, one of his brothers.
"You shouldn't be here long," he warned, voice as calm as still water. "Your path holds danger. Her fate may become your burden."
Little Dark narrowed his eyes. "I'll decide."
Little Death looked at him once more, then vanished into a shadow.
Later that week, during a tour of an old shrine, Little Dark found a black stone pulsating with earth-shaking energy—an Earth Power Stone. As he held it, warmth spread through his chest.
The Queen appeared silently. "You found it."
"It called to me."
"Give it to me," she said gently. "It's dangerous for your level."
He hesitated. Then, nodded. "Fine."
He handed it over. Her smile widened.
He never saw it again.
---
They dined together once, at her request. She wore a violet robe and no crown, her long hair loose. They sat beside a reflecting pool, drinking warm blood wine and sharing roasted spirit fruit.
He asked, "You rule this land, yet you seem… lonely."
She looked away. "Power isolates. Desire scars. I've seen too much."
"Why me?"
"Because you aren't afraid to touch darkness without being consumed."
That night, she didn't visit him. But he dreamt of her.
---
And so the story begins—not of light, but of shadow. Of a young man seeking secrets and a queen who had become one. Neither trusted the other. But fate had already intertwined their destinies.
Darkness had only begun to whisper.
---[To be Continued]--