Zhen Zenin walked through the academy's lower levels, past the martial halls and into the forbidden archives—a sealed corridor few dared enter.
Lin Yue followed hesitantly. "You're not supposed to be here. This place holds techniques too old, too… dangerous."
Zenin didn't answer. His hand touched the cold stone door etched with ancient runes. The Demonic Emperor's memories stirred.
"This place once belonged to me," he muttered.
With a whisper of soul energy, the door unlocked.
Inside, the air was thick with forgotten power. Dust floated like ash. Scrolls and artifacts rested undisturbed—until now.
Zenin approached a black box sealed in spirit chains. He reached out. His palm glowed with white fire, dissolving the bindings instantly.
Inside the box lay a single jade slip:
Demonic Fist of Requiem – Forbidden Art
Yue gasped. "That technique… it was lost during the Heavenfall War."
Zenin took the slip calmly. "I created it."
---
Later, beneath a waterfall outside the city, Zenin trained in solitude. He struck the air, releasing waves of energy that shattered the surrounding rocks.
Each movement of the Demonic Fist of Requiem consumed spiritual force, tearing flesh and rebuilding it stronger.
Pain became his forge.
Blood ran down his arms, but his aura rose higher, denser, more lethal.
Suddenly, the water froze mid-fall. A man stepped from the mist—cloaked in gold, face hidden by a dragon mask.
"Zhen Zenin," the man said, voice smooth like oil. "I've come to deliver a message."
Zenin didn't stop training.
"You've killed four of ours. The Crimson List doesn't forgive. The next time… we won't send assassins."
Zenin turned, flame flickering in his gaze. "Then send gods. I'll burn them too."
The man chuckled. "We shall see."
And with that, he vanished like smoke.
---
Zenin stood still, breathing heavy, body trembling from overexertion. But inside his heart, something had changed.
Fear was no longer something he felt.
It was something he caused.
---