On the wind-swept peak of the mountain, Xuan Long stood in silence, his long black robes fluttering like banners of darkness against the horizon. The morning sun cast golden streaks across the land below, painting the distant hills and forests in warmth. Yet within Xuan Long, a storm churned.
"I am becoming stronger," he murmured to himself, eyes scanning the edge of the world as if searching for his fate. "But strength without purpose is nothing. I can't remain hidden in shadows any longer. It's time to prepare—to build an army that answers to no sect, fears no elder, bows to no god."
His thoughts turned to the empires that once laughed at him. They had mocked, exiled, and tried to crush him. But they had failed.
Turning sharply, Xuan Long looked to his side where Hei Mo stood, composed and alert.
"Go south," Xuan Long commanded. "There are demonic cultivators scattered through the valleys and forests. Hunt them. Absorb their strength. Take their techniques, their spirit stones, everything. But remember—if you sense danger, do not engage. Retreat and return within fifteen days."
Hei Mo bowed low.
"Understood, Lord Xuan Long. I will bring results."
With a flash of black light, he vanished across the southern sky.
Xuan Long watched him disappear into the wind, then turned his gaze back to the base below. His shadow army moved in organized lines. Training. Cultivating. Preparing.
And among them—Mu Chen.
The young man clenched his fists, teeth gritted in determination. Watching Hei Mo rise so quickly stirred something within him.
"He came after me," Mu Chen muttered, his gaze never leaving the horizon. "And now he's at Core Formation. I can't fall behind—not now."
He sat down beneath a tree, surrounded himself with glowing spirit stones, and laid down a complex array.
"Ten days," he whispered. "With these pills and the energy from the stones… I'll break through no matter what."
Elsewhere, joy bloomed in quiet corners of the fortress.
Xue'er, the little girl Xuan Long had rescued, chased after him in the courtyard. Her pink dress fluttered as she giggled and stumbled, tiny hands stretched forward.
"Brother! Wait for me! I'll catch you this time!"
Xuan Long allowed a rare smile to form. He slowed, letting her come closer, dodging just slightly so she would miss but never fall.
Her laughter was a balm, a sound so alien to the fortress that even guards nearby paused to glance and smile.
In this fleeting moment, he wasn't a general, a cultivator, or a weapon forged in vengeance.
He was a brother.
But fate does not allow peace for long.
Suddenly, a cold, mechanical voice echoed in his mind.
[System: Host, with your current strength, you could already begin your revenge. Why delay?]
Xuan Long's eyes narrowed. The smile vanished.
He turned away from Xue'er and stared toward the sky.
"You think revenge is just about striking now?" he whispered, voice like a cold blade. "System, you give me strength, but if you vanish tomorrow, what will remain?"
He raised his hand slowly. The mountain darkened.
From the shadows, dozens of soldiers emerged—disciplined, loyal, united. Their power grew each day, not through shortcuts, but training, discipline, and faith.
"I'm not like the others who rely on cheats and rage," he continued. "If I disappear, my people will continue my path. If I lose everything, this army—my family—will carry my name."
The system stayed silent.
Xuan Long's voice hardened further.
"You want revenge? You want blood? It will come. But not like a fool rushing into the fire. Those people… they're not just powerful. They're cunning. They'll run if they sense danger."
His hand clenched into a fist.
"But if I wait… grow… strike with one blow strong enough to erase them all—"
His eyes flashed crimson.
"—then there'll be no escape. No mercy. No survivors."
The wind howled around him, cold and sharp.
Back at the courtyard, Xue'er approached again. She looked up, sensing something had shifted. Her tiny hand tugged at his robe.
"Brother… are you okay?"
He looked down at her, and the storm in his heart stilled.
"Yes," he said softly, lifting her into his arms. "Let's go see the flowers again."
As the sun dipped behind the clouds, casting long shadows across the fortress, Xuan Long carried his little sister back into the light.
He would not rush.
He would not stumble.
He would rise—one silent step at a time.
And when the time came to strike…
The world would know the name Xuan Long.