This world still clung to its old gods.
The common folk feared what they didn't understand ~ omens in the flight of crows, curses in the turn of seasons so they went for teachings of religious folks. But the people in power? families? Aristocrats? Their faith was far more deep and insidious.
Science could not explain the way qi coiled in a martial master's veins, nor how a single strike could shatter steel. And so, they sought answers in the dark.
They didn't fear the things they could explain, only the unknowns. Qi beasts were bred like cattle, slaughtered for their essence, their bones ground into elixirs. But some creatures fed instead ~ on human blood, on martial essence, growing fat on stolen power. It was inevitable that men would begin to worship what they could not control or understand.
_______________________
In true realms of spiritual energy, power of faith might have meaning. Divine techniques, celestial blessings ~ these were forces worth revering.
But here?
Here, it was all just blood and delusion.
It had started in the breeding pits, in those underground chambers that are dark and decay. Rows of women, shackled, stripped of names and identity ~ stood as nothing more than living incubators. Their distended bellies bore the weight of monstrous offspring, their bodies tormented for a purpose they had never chosen.
A physician moved through the rows, pressing a qi-sensing device to each abdomen with clinical detachment.
"This one's parasite's is developing too slowly," she murmured before a hollow-cheeked woman. Two guards dragged her away. She did not return.
The next in line ~ a girl barely into womanhood, her features unmistakably more beautiful ~ device showing some response. The physician nodded approvingly.
"Ah. A strong brood here. Mark her for the high altar."
Han Tianxing had watched it all, ledger in hand, recording names, bloodlines, results. Some fervent men behind the priests in black clothes, everyone really high in social standing. These prisoners were bastard daughters few his own, his son's, similarly of that from established family nobles and aristocrats. Unacknowledged offspring of noble houses and commoner women. Expendable. Perfect.
Han Chen could feel Tianxing's initial hesitation ~ brief, passing. Then gone.
It was necessary. Faith had always required sacrifice. The Prophet had promised rewards beyond mere wealth. Strength. Longevity. Ascension.
And Han Tianxing would do anything to take what lesser men could only beg the heavens for. The memory shifted—time unraveling, pulling Han Chen deeper into the truth. Now, he stood in the sanctum. Watching. Listening.
The Prophet's voice cut through the humid air.
"Power is shifting," he murmured. "Your ancestors built their world upon bloodlines, upon discipline. But that world crumbles. Even now, men build machines that function without qi, that rival the heavens without sacrifice. And the fools embrace it. They will replace discipline with shortcuts, training with mere possession. If there has to be, it must be under ours, for Lord Qivora Thr'all"
Qivora Thr'all is an insect 3 meters long, feeding on blood of martial artists, at the deepest layer of their place. The Cult's belief. Han Tianxing seen it from afar. Han Chen concluded it was a Qi transforming beast at the limit of its beast realm.
Han Chen felt Tianxing's reaction hearing earlier propaganda ~ not shock, but cold understanding. Because he had seen it firsthand.
The way commoners, people who had never tempered their bodies, never cultivated properly ~ could wield tools, guns that mimicked the strength of true martial artists. He had seen once-great noble houses turn their attention to these advancements, shifting wealth and power toward those who embraced progress instead of tradition.
The Prophet turned, his voice dropping lower. "Your lineage is not the only one at risk. Soon, those who rely on strength alone will be left behind. And then, the world will belong to those weak men not us, who rightfully understand the price of true power. Humanity is not ready for this fervent rise in damned technology."
It's really ironic, many of those who stay here are in someway from exactly those backgrounds as he told. People seek lifespan, power, some seek connection. Now they are all together in this absurdity.
Han Chen felt the pieces click together, the silent justifications slipping into place within Tianxing's mind. Chen Energy Solutions.
The company's breakthroughs in autonomous vehicles and high-efficiency energy systems had disrupted the old balance. Their latest innovations ~ scientifically advanced, impossibly efficient ~ resembled sorcery more than technology. It refueled his greed for wealth.
The Han family recently bore some losses working on traditional energy sector; he had seen the threat and the opportunity. It could be his.
By indulging the cult leader's whims, Tianxing could acquire these advancements under the guise of faith. He could secure an inheritance of untold value. And the Prophet ~ an enigma within the political elite ~ had hinted at even greater rewards.
Chance for martial ascension. A chance to break past the limitations of his bloodline to revered Grand Master position. To extend his lifespan to 160 years or more.
A generation longer to rule.
And when the main family heir, his own son, ever wary of potential rivals, proposed eliminating Han Chen outright to remove any future threats—Tianxing had not hesitated. He even plan on presenting their bodies later to his belief.
One more sacrifice. One transaction in the endless barter of power.
Han Chen back from the memory, his breath slow and controlled. The visions still clung to him, slick as oil.
So this was the truth.
The cult's leader was no mere zealot ~ he sat at the heart of the nobility's power. And Han Tianxing, driven by ambition and fear, had handed his own blood over to them in exchange for something greater than loyalty, greater than legacy. The previous Qivora was his personal pet. This guy was half hearted when still in a cult.
For martial ascension. His family's slaughter had been legal. Justified. Necessary. Han Chen felt a fresh rage. He would repay it in kind.
He didn't get aversion from seeing all the scenes, but the fact that these two justified killing of his parents under the whimsical teaching of another jackass, he was angry.
He had seen worse. He had walked through darker nightmares than this, practiced techniques that turned men into monsters, and monsters into demon gods. But this? A cult? In a world without true spiritual energy? How many of these deluded fools were out there, still clinging to hollow faiths and blood rituals?
He looked at the two degenerates groveling before him, still alive with their broken bodies. With a flick of his wrist, he dragged them toward the writhing nest of demonic insects caged in the chamber's depths. The creatures stirred, sensing fresh prey. He tossed the men inside without ceremony.
The insects did not kill them outright. Under his control, they began slowly, burrowing through flesh, carving paths into muscle and bone. When the bodies could no longer scream, their spirits remained, caught in the grasp of soul-devourers ~ beings that gnawed at their very essence, shredding their minds one thought at a time. Piece by piece, their essence was devoured, carved away like rotting wood.
But even that was too merciful.
Han Chen collected what remained of their fragmented soul consciousness and fed them into the spirit flame, binding them in a slow-burning torment. The fire would consume them over in five years, but he doubted they would last five days before their minds shattered completely.
He didn't care.
***
When he returned, Hye Won was waiting. She had her arms crossed, her gaze sharp. The moment she saw him, she questioned.
"You were feeling a lot of emotions back there," she said. "Anger. Disgust. You don't usually get like this."
Han Chen exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "...I found out why they moved against my family."
Her expression darkened. "And?"
He studied her for a moment. "Do you really want to know?"
"Wouldn't be asking if I didn't. We had an agreement we would share secrets, you are the one keeping more."
"It'll make you sick. Might give you nightmares."
She tilted her head, unimpressed.
Han Chen nodded. "Very well. But sit down first."
Then, without a word, he pulled her into the full horror of what he had seen. Every detail. Every memory. The cold, calculated cruelty. The way they bred their monstrosities inside living women, turning wombs into nurseries for abominations. The children thrown into pits, the hollow-eyed mothers with their skin stretched too tight over squirming bellies.
A few minutes later, she did threw up. That day she lost faith in humans in general.
***