The steel of the Enforcer's saber was freezing against Dver's throat. A single drop of blood welled up from the shallow cut, tracing a warm line down his collarbone.
"I asked you a question, rat," the lead Enforcer repeated, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "What crawled out of the Pit?"
Dver's heart pounded like a frantic war drum. He forced his breathing to become shallow and ragged. Tears streamed down his dirt-streaked face, mixing with the blood. He didn't just look like a terrified sixteen-year-old boy; he became one.
"I—I didn't fall!" Dver choked out, his voice cracking perfectly. He scrambled backward, scraping his palms against the rough stone floor, trying to put distance between himself and the blade. "I swear! I caught the ledge! I was hiding just below the grating!"
The female Enforcer sneered, her lantern casting long, distorted shadows across Dver's pathetic display. "He's lying. Look at the blood on him."
"It's not mine!" Dver shrieked, wrapping his arms around his head in a protective cower. "Someone threw a body down! It hit me on the way! Please, I just want to go back to my quarters! I won't tell anyone I was here!"
Inside Dver's mind, a dark, rumbling laughter echoed. "Look at them," the Void God whispered, its voice dripping with ancient malice. "Three specks of dust, holding a piece of sharp metal to the throat of an abyss. Bite his hand off, Vessel. Let me taste his meridian channels."
Quiet, Dver commanded silently. Patience is how we eat the whole sect.
The lead Enforcer stared at the shivering boy for a long, suffocating moment. He expanded his spiritual sense one last time, probing Dver's internal core.
Dver held his breath. He kept the suffocating mass of the Void compressed so tightly it felt like his internal organs were going to rupture. All the Enforcer felt was the weak, leaky, rank-98,412 cultivation of an untalented Outer Court trash.
The Enforcer scoffed, lowering his saber.
"Pathetic," he spat. "Just another outer court roach. If you had actually fallen into the dark, the miasma would have stripped the flesh from your bones in seconds." He kicked Dver sharply in the ribs. Dver let out a breathless yelp, allowing himself to roll across the stone floor. "Get out of here. If I catch you near the forbidden grounds again, I'll throw you into the Pit myself."
"Y-yes! Thank you, Senior!" Dver scrambled to his feet, bowing so deeply his forehead nearly touched his knees.
He didn't run. Running would show hidden stamina. He stumbled, limping heavily on his left leg, playing the part of a broken dog until he finally rounded the corner and disappeared into the sprawling labyrinth of the Outer Sect.
The moment he was out of sight, the tears stopped.
Dver's posture shifted. The cowering, trembling boy vanished, replaced by a cold, predatory stillness. He wiped the dried tears from his cheeks, his eyes scanning his new hunting ground.
The Outer Sect was a sprawling slum built into the lower slopes of the Blood Lotus Mountain. Row upon row of dilapidated wooden shacks were crammed together beneath the oppressive shadow of the Inner Sect's pristine floating peaks. The air here was thin, smelling of sweat, cheap incense, and desperation. Thousands of low-level cultivators lived here, fighting like stray dogs for scraps of resources.
To anyone else, it was hell. To Dver, it was a buffet.
But as he took his first step toward the disciple barracks, his vision suddenly blurred. A white-hot spike of agony drove itself through his chest. Dver staggered into a dark alleyway, bracing his hand against the damp brick wall as he violently coughed up a mouthful of black blood.
"Your vessel is failing," the Void God noted, sounding entirely unconcerned. "The boy's body you stole is too weak to contain my essence. It is cracking. You need to repair it."
Dver wiped his mouth, his chest heaving. The hunger wasn't just a sensation; it was a physical tearing in his soul. The Void inside him demanded to be fed. He needed Qi. He needed lifeforce. And he needed it tonight, or he would die before the sun came up.
He leaned against the wall, calculating. He couldn't just kill anyone. If he killed a disciple with backing, it would draw an investigation. He needed someone invisible. Someone whose disappearance would be chalked up to the everyday brutality of the Outer Sect.
"Well, well, well..."
A voice drifted from the mouth of the alley.
Dver slowly turned his head.
Blocking the exit were two young men wearing the same grey robes as him, though theirs were clean and pressed. The one in the front, a bulky youth with a cruel sneer and a scar over his left eyebrow, cracked his knuckles.
"I thought I told you to go jump off the Weeping Cliff, Dver," the bulky youth said, stepping into the alley. "I told you that if I saw your face in the barracks again, I'd cripple your cultivation completely. Or did you forget our little arrangement?"
Dver looked at the bulky youth. Then, he looked at his companion.
No witnesses. Low cultivation. Aggressive enough that their disappearance would just look like they picked a fight with the wrong beast in the woods.
"Ah," the Void God purred in his mind. "Delivery."
Dver didn't smile, but a cold, heavy shadow seemed to bleed into the alleyway, dimming the moonlight. He let his shoulders slump, dropping his head as if in complete despair.
"I remember," Dver whispered, his voice trembling perfectly. "Please... just follow me to the back of the alley. I have spirit stones hidden in the loose bricks. I'll give you everything."
The bulky youth laughed, motioning for his friend to follow. "Smart rat. Lead the way."
They walked into the dark.