Two weeks passed in silence.
Within the quiet chamber at the peak of the Heavenly Demon Sect, Xie Tian sat cross-legged amid scattered scrolls and floating runes. Qi burned through the air like molten light, carving sigils into the walls. The once-dim room had become a forge of invention, the air rippling with heat and energy that would have shredded a lesser cultivator.
He breathed out slowly, faint violet arcs crawling over his skin. Dozens of half-finished techniques shimmered in the air before fading into dust.
He glanced around at the chaos of failed inscriptions and cracked spirit stones. "I've been making all sorts of techniques. If I sold a few of these cheap ones, I'd rake in enough gold to buy this sect twice."
Outside, disciples whispered of the "Chained Young Master." His qi storms echoed through the sect at night, shaking training halls and extinguishing torches.
[You're famous now, young master.]
"Yeah, right."
[Two hundred failed fire techniques and one that doesn't explode. Progress!]
"Perfection requires detonation. Ask your creator."
[I would, but he died installing you.]
He lifted a brow. "A noble sacrifice. Wait—aren't I the one installed?"
[Hehe. Noble and humble.]
Xie Tian smirked. "Greatness usually is."
His control was sharper now. The black-violet chain around his arm pulsed faintly, its glow fading and flaring like a heartbeat. It was both his shackle and his whetstone. Each day, the qi flow grew smoother, the resistance weaker. Fate points trickled in from minor sect duels, from experiments that ended in explosions no one dared question. Sometimes, he fought a few disciples just to test the new formulas—efficient resource gathering, as he liked to call it.
Early morning came with whispers carried by cold wind.
The Heavenly Demon Sect trembled under a storm of rumors—the Orthodox Alliance was moving toward the border.
"I should've prepared some corn," he murmured, standing before his window as faint light bled through the mist. "It's showtime. They'll attack soon."
The Demon Lord remained secluded, the great halls quiet except for the distant clang of armor. Anxiety spread through the sect like a disease.
Xie Tian stepped onto the balcony. From there, the valley stretched beneath him, dotted with black banners that flapped in the predawn wind. His robes rustled softly, his expression calm and unreadable.
[System Notification: Host Power Increase: 14%. Chain Stability: 73%. Potential Unlock Pending.]
[You're getting famous, young master. Some disciples are betting on your lifespan again.]
"I should start taxing the wagers," he said. "I'm already not getting paid here."
[Ah, the mark of a true villain economist.]
At dawn, the mountains roared.
Black smoke coiled upward as the Orthodox Alliance's army descended like locusts, banners bright as fire against the gray sky. Their shouts shook the ground.
Xie Tian watched from a nearby rooftop, one leg crossed over the other, gaze distant and bored.
"See that?" he said softly. "Flipped in a second. Just like a real protagonist."
[Right. Real villains don't change even after death.]
He turned his head slightly. "What did you say?"
[Common saying. Don't worry.]
His eyes followed the chaos below. Demonic cultivators clashed with orthodox swordsmen, blood splashing across the stones.
"Efficient," he murmured. "They're killing each other for me."
[Do you want popcorn or blood wine?]
"Whichever comes with more Fate Points."
[Fate +300 — 'Massacre of the Righteous']
He chuckled. "Free farming sessions. Convenient."
Amid the storm of blades and qi, a single figure leapt from roof to roof—a woman wrapped in black, her movements soundless as shadow. The silver edge of her dagger caught the sun for a heartbeat.
Zhou Ran. One of the sect's assassins.
Yet when her eyes found him sitting there, perfectly composed above the battlefield, her steps faltered. Power rippled faintly from his still form, enough to make her heart stutter.
He's hiding something, she thought. That pressure… it's not of a weakling. Should I finish the mission, or watch what happens?
Her instincts screamed danger, but curiosity coiled tighter. She slipped into the shadows and began to follow him, silent and unseen.
[Someone's stalking you again, young master. Same one from before. How flattering.]
"Let her. I enjoy a devoted audience."
[You mean a potential murderer.]
"Semantics."
[Do I prepare her eulogy or yours?]
He smiled faintly. "Keep enjoying the show for now."
By nightfall, the war's echoes had faded.
The valley was a graveyard of smoke and ash. Corpses from both factions carpeted the field, the air thick with iron and burnt incense.
Xie Tian stood at the edge of the roof, hands behind his back, eyes tracing the horizon where fires still burned.
"The world cleanses itself when I wait long enough," he said.
[A poetic excuse for laziness.]
"Efficiency, Rue. Remember that word."
His lips curled into a faint smile. Beneath the moon's pale light, his chain glowed faintly, reflecting the flames below.
He looked down at the corpses and chuckled quietly. "Here comes the hero now."
Far in the distance, a single cultivator rose among the surviving orthodox ranks—robes torn, blade dripping blood, eyes blazing with righteous fury. Bai Chen's real orthodox master had come to rally the remnants with his disciple
[Main Quest Progress: 1% → 8%]
[Next Event Trigger: Death of the Protagonist Detected]
The system's voice faded into the night wind.
Xie Tian's gaze lingered on the distant battlefield for a long while before he turned away, the faint hum of the chain echoing in his ears like laughter.
The storm had only just begun.