The news did not so much spread through Floating Cloud City as it detonated. It was a shockwave of silence first, a city holding its breath, followed by a cacophony of panicked whispers that echoed through teahouses, market stalls, and manor houses.
The Liu Patriarch, the mighty Liu Bang, ninth-level Pulse Condensation expert, had been reduced to a drooling, mindless mortal on the doorstep of the Luo Clan. The City Lord's magistrate had knelt. The Liu guards had fled like scared children.
And at the center of it all was Luo Zhen.
The name was on everyone's lips, uttered with a mixture of terror, disbelief, and morbid curiosity. The trash young master? The coward who was constantly bullied? How? The stories were wild and contradictory. He had made a deal with a demon. He had been possessed by an ancient devil. He had uncovered a hidden treasure of his vanished father. He was a hidden genius who had been pretending all along.
In the Wang Family manor, Patriarch Wang Zheng, a shrewd and cautious man also at the ninth level of Pulse Condensation, listened to the report of the shop robbery and the crippling of Liu Bang with a face of stone. The two events happening on the same night could not be a coincidence. The mysterious, masked expert who could phase through doors and drain cultivation... and the Luo boy who could do the same in broad daylight. A cold dread settled in his stomach. They were one and the same.
"Seal our compound," he ordered his stewards, his voice uncharacteristically tight. "Recall all our external members. No one is to provoke the Luo Clan in any way. We observe. We wait."
In the Su Family manor, the atmosphere was one of cold fury and calculated reassessment. Patriarch Su Heng, a tall, elegant man known for his political acumen, stroked his beard as he listened. His daughter, Su Mei'er, a beautiful girl of sixteen with peach-blossom eyes and a notoriously proud disposition, sat nearby, her face pale.
"The engagement..." Su Heng murmured. "We hinted to the Liu boy that we would look favorably on its dissolution. We thought we were pitting a rabid dog against a cornered mouse. It seems the mouse was a sleeping dragon."
Su Mei'er's delicate hands clenched. "Father, that... that monster! He humiliated Liu Feng and now Patriarch Liu! How can someone so vicious and low-born be allowed to possess such power? The City Lord must act!"
"The City Lord," Su Heng said dryly, "through his magistrate, has already knelt. The City Lord is a practical man. He will not move against a force he does not understand. This changes everything. Our... distance from the Luo Clan must be re-evaluated."
Su Mei'er's eyes flashed with anger and a hint of fear. "You cannot be suggesting I still marry that... that demon!"
"I am suggesting," her father said, his voice turning sharp, "that we tread very, very carefully. The Luo boy is no longer a petitioner. He is a predator. And we are potentially his next meal."
Meanwhile, in the Luo compound, the atmosphere was one of frenetic, terrified activity. Luo Zhen's orders were being carried out with a efficiency born of pure fear. Luo Cheng, armed with a new-found confidence (and the threat of a horrifying death if he failed), had taken twenty clansmen to the Liu spirit stone mine. The foreman, already hearing the rumors of his patriarch's fate, had put up a token resistance. Luo Cheng, remembering the withering gaze of his young master, had not hesitated. He personally cut the man down. The message was received. The mine now flew the Luo banner—a simple, hastily made flag featuring a black serpent coiled around a broken sword.
Luo Zhen observed it all from the main hall, a silent, terrifying sovereign. He had spent the hours after the confrontation further consolidating his Foundation Establishment cultivation. The first level was now rock solid, his Demonic Foundation a bottomless well of dark power. He could feel the city's fear, its uncertainty. It was a tangible energy, and the Nine Profound Heavens Demonic Art fed on it as surely as it fed on spirit stones.
Luo Bo entered the hall, bowing deeply. "My Lord. The initial inventory from the Liu warehouses is complete. Their assets are... substantial. Spirit stones, materials, deeds to properties. With the mine, our financial woes are over."
"Financial woes are the least of our concerns," Luo Zhen said without turning around. "The weak cling to wealth. The strong seize power. The resources are a means to an end. How many clansmen of fighting age do we have? What are their cultivation levels?"
Luo Bo consulted a scroll. "Thirty-seven, my Lord. Most are at the third or fourth level of Pulse Condensation. A handful at the fifth. Luo Cheng is the strongest at the sixth."
"Pathetic," Luo Zhen stated, though there was no heat in it, merely a factual assessment. "They are useless in their current state. That will change."
He turned finally, his crimson-starred eyes pinning Luo Bo in place. "You will gather them. All of them. In the main courtyard. Now."
Minutes later, the thirty-seven Luo clansmen stood shivering in the courtyard, not from cold, but from the oppressive aura of the young master who stood before them on the main hall's steps. He held a large bowl filled with water. Into it, he crushed a single, potent high-grade spirit stone from the Wang Family haul and several potent Meridian Cleansing Pills. The water shimmered with intense, concentrated energy.
"This is a Demonic Baptism," Luo Zhen announced, his voice echoing in the silent yard. "It will purge your weaknesses, shatter your limitations, and forge you into something useful. The process will be agonizing. It may break you. If you survive, you will be stronger than you have ever dreamed. If you cannot endure the pain, you are worthless to me and will be discarded."
He didn't wait for their consent. With a wave of his hand, the enchanted water lifted from the bowl, separating into thirty-seven individual droplets, each glowing with a dangerous light. With another gesture, the droplets shot forward, embedding themselves into the chests of each clansman.
Screams instantly tore through the air.
The clansmen collapsed to the ground, writhing in agony. It felt like liquid fire was spreading through their meridians, scouring them clean, burning out impurities accumulated over a lifetime. Their bones felt like they were breaking and reforming. The energy was too much, too potent, too violent.
Luo Zhen watched dispassionately, his senses monitoring each one. He saw their cultivation bases fluctuate wildly, saw their meridians expand and tear under the strain. This was a crude, brutal method, but it was fast. He didn't have time to coddle them.
One clansman, an older fellow at the third level, gave a final, choked gasp and fell still, his eyes wide and unseeing. His body could not handle the shock.
"Discard that one," Luo Zhen said to Luo Bo, who watched the scene with horror.
But others began to stabilize. Their screams turned to groans of effort, then to sharp, panting breaths. The energy, having purged their weaknesses, began to fortify them.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
The sounds of breakthroughs echoed through the courtyard like a string of firecrackers. Fourth levels broke into the fifth. Fifth levels surged into the sixth. Luo Cheng, roaring with the effort, felt the barrier of the seventh level shatter. His aura solidified, powerful and fierce.
When the process was complete, twenty minutes later, thirty-six clansmen lay on the ground, soaked in sweat and their own filth, but their eyes blazed with a new, fierce light. They had all advanced by at least one full level. Some by two. They felt powerful, reborn. The pain was a fading memory compared to the thrilling strength now coursing through their veins.
They slowly got to their feet, and as one, they fell to their knees, kowtowing towards Luo Zhen.
"My Lord! Thank you for your grace!" they shouted, their voices filled with a fanatical fervor. The fear was still there, but it was now married to an unwavering, zealous loyalty. He had given them power. He had made them strong. He was their god.
"Your old selves are dead," Luo Zhen said, his voice cutting through their fervor. "You are my blades now. Your will is my will. Your strength is my strength. You will train. You will fight. And you will conquer. The first test comes now."
He pointed towards the gate. "The Liu Family is leaderless and panicked. They are ripe for the picking. You will go to their main compound. You will offer them a choice: swear absolute fealty to the Luo Clan and be integrated, or be purged. There is no third option. Luo Cheng, you will lead them."
Luo Cheng, now at the seventh level of Pulse Condensation, felt invincible. "It will be done, my Lord! They will kneel or they will die!"
As the newly empowered Luo force, now a genuine threat, marched out of the compound with a purpose they had never known, Luo Zhen turned his attention inward. The Demonic Baptism had consumed a high-grade spirit stone and several pills, but the result was a loyal, capable force. It was a worthwhile investment.
He sensed a presence behind him. He didn't need to turn to know it was Luo Qingwu. Her energy signature, though still frail, was clearer to him than anyone else's.
"You... you changed them," she said, her voice a mixture of awe and fear. She had witnessed the entire brutal ceremony from a window.
"I improved them," he corrected, finally turning to look at her. He noted she looked slightly better; the color in her cheeks was less pale. She had likely absorbed a fraction of the medium-grade spirit stone he'd given her. "Weakness is a sin. Strength is a virtue. I am merely absolving them of their sins."
She hugged herself, looking small and vulnerable. "The clansman who died... you called him 'discarded'."
"He was," Luo Zhen said, his tone implying it was as simple as discarding a broken tool. "He lacked the will to become strong. This world has no place for such creatures. You would do well to remember that."
He stepped closer to her, and she instinctively shrank back. He reached out, not to hurt her, but to tilt her chin up, forcing her to look into his abyssal eyes. "You are different. You are my sister. You are my treasure. I will not discard you. But I will not tolerate weakness in you either. You will become strong. Not for the clan. For me."
His words were possessive, cold, yet for Luo Qingwu, who had known nothing but neglect and pity since her father disappeared, they were also a perverse form of validation. He saw her not as a burden, but as something of value. Something to be kept.
"Now," he said, releasing her. "I sense a guest approaching. A cautious one. Go to your room."
As Luo Qingwu hurried away, Luo Zhen turned to face the main gate. A moment later, a figure appeared there, not marching in with arrogance, but waiting hesitantly at the threshold. It was a messenger from the Su Family, dressed in fine silks, his face pale but trying to maintain a semblance of dignity.
"L-Lord Luo?" the messenger called out, his voice trembling. "I bring a message from Patriarch Su Heng."
Luo Zhen did not invite him in. He simply stood, waiting.
The messenger swallowed hard and unfurled a scroll. "The Su Family... acknowledges the changing winds in Floating Cloud City. Patriarch Su Heng invites the esteemed Young Master Luo to a banquet at the Su manor tomorrow evening, to... to discuss the future and to celebrate your... remarkable rise."
It was a peace offering. A试探 (tànshè - probe, feeler). An attempt to feel out the new power dynamic.
Luo Zhen's lips curled into a cold smile. The prey was coming to the hunter, just as he predicted.
He didn't answer the messenger directly. Instead, he said, "Tell Patriarch Su that the Luo Clan does not attend banquets like performing monkeys. If he wishes to discuss the future, he will come here. He will bring his daughter. And he will come bearing a gift worthy of my attention. Not as a petitioner, but as a supplicant."
The messenger's face went white. The audacity! To demand the Patriarch of the Su Family come to this dilapidated compound? To bring his daughter as if she were a commodity? And a gift?
"B-But, Lord Luo... the protocols... the respect due to a Patriarch..."
Luo Zhen took a single step forward.
The messenger yelped, dropped the scroll, turned, and fled for his life.
Luo Zhen watched him go. The game was moving quickly. The Liu were being absorbed. The Wang were hiding. The Su were making overtures.
And in the City Lord's mansion, a different kind of discussion was taking place. The City Lord, a fat, cunning man named Feng Jun, listened to Magistrate Hong's terrified, detailed report. He then listened to a separate, frantic report from the Wang Patriarch.
A man who could drain cultivation. A man who could nullify a ninth-level expert's aura without moving. A man who could phase through doors.
Feng Jun's face was grave. He looked at an old, yellowed scroll on his desk, a historical record of the region.
"Such a power... it has not been seen for centuries," he murmured. "Not since the recorded tales of the... Blood Devouring Demonic Sect."
He looked up at his magistrate, his eyes serious. "This is no longer a matter of city politics. This is a potential calamity. Send a message. To the nearest outpost of the Starlight Pavilion. We may have a demonic cultivator on our hands. They will want to know."
The stakes had just been raised. The Heavenly Demon's playground was about to get more interesting.