The husks of the Iron Fang Outlaws were never buried.
The villagers refused to touch them, too terrified to go near the cursed storehouse. Days later, their corpses had already begun to rot, stinking of blood and fear.
Whispers spread.
Some claimed it was divine punishment. Others swore a demon had risen among them. Only Shen Zong knew the truth—that the Demon Lotus Scripture had merely tasted its first meal.
Yet the world beyond the village was not deaf.
---
Far from Black Hollow, in a mountain hall lined with jade pillars, sat the disciples of the Azure Cloud Sect, a minor righteous sect in the region. A robed man with a cold expression unrolled a scroll handed to him by a trembling messenger.
"Five cultivators, drained of blood and qi in a backwater village?" His eyes narrowed. "That reeks of demonic arts."
A younger disciple spoke with unease. "Master, should we investigate? If a demonic cultivator is truly growing in that place…"
The man slammed the scroll shut. "The Azure Cloud Sect cannot allow corruption to fester near its territory. Send word—we leave at dawn."
---
At the same time, deep underground in a cavern filled with crimson torches, another figure stirred.
Clad in black robes, his eyes glimmered with a sinister light. He was an emissary of the Crimson Shadow Hall, a hidden demonic cult.
When whispers of the drained corpses reached him, his lips curved into a smile.
"So, another has stepped onto the path of darkness? A seed of potential blooming in obscurity…"
He chuckled, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "If nurtured, it may grow into a worthy ally—or a rival to crush. Either way, the hall will not ignore this."
---
Back in Black Hollow, Shen Zong sat calmly in meditation, demonic qi swirling like a black tide within him. His aura had grown sharper, more oppressive, yet he kept it restrained, hidden beneath a veil of calm.
The villagers avoided him completely now. Children were warned never to look his way. The elder, who once scolded him, now bowed his head whenever their eyes met.
Shen Zong's expression never changed. He had no need for the villagers' approval—or their fear. His path lay far beyond this rotting place.
But as he cultivated, the scripture whispered again, carrying a warning this time:
Child of the Cursed Moon… your first tribulation approaches. The righteous hunt what they fear, and the demonic covet what they cannot control. Prepare yourself—for both will soon come.
Shen Zong opened his eyes, calm as ever. He did not panic. Instead, he adjusted his posture and picked up a half-broken sword scavenged from the forest.
"If they come," he murmured, voice steady and cold, "then they shall serve as the soil for my next bloom."
Outside, the wind howled. The scent of blood lingered in the air. And from both heaven and hell, eyes had begun to turn toward the cursed orphan of Black Hollow.