The Forbidden Forest swallowed Ling Tianhao whole, its darkness wrapping around him like a living shroud, suffocating and unyielding. At thirteen years old, he was a boy forged in the fires of loss—his father murdered, his mother driven to suicide, his friend Mei Lian sold into slavery—yet the forest cared nothing for his pain. The air was thick with a grayish-black mist that clung to his skin, cold and damp, carrying the stench of decay: rotting flesh, dried blood, and earth that had long since forgotten the touch of sunlight. The trees loomed like twisted sentinels, their black trunks gnarled and bent, their sharp, leafless branches resembling skeletal hands reaching for the sky. Strange whispers echoed through the mist—hisses, growls, and murmurs that were anything but human—each sound a reminder that this was a place where the living were not welcome.
Tianhao stumbled forward, his small body trembling with pain and exhaustion, his tattered clothes stained with his mother's blood and the dirt of his fall. Fresh wounds marred his arms and legs from Gu Shan's brutal expulsion, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the storm in his heart. The image of Xueyin's lifeless body, her blood pooling on the shack floor, burned in his mind, mingling with the memory of Zhantian's broken form and Mei Lian's desperate cries. His small hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms, drawing fresh blood as he forced himself to keep moving. "I'll survive," he whispered, his voice a low growl, a vow to himself as much as to the world that had taken everything from him. "I'll find that book… I'll make them pay."
The forest seemed to respond to his words, the whispers growing louder, more insistent, as if the darkness itself was listening. A deep, resonant voice echoed in his mind, its tone ancient and malevolent, sending a chill down his spine. "Little child… you dare to enter my domain?" it said, the words rumbling like thunder from the depths of the earth, each syllable laced with a power that made the air feel colder. Tianhao froze, his breath catching in his throat, his small frame tensing as he scanned the mist for the source. "Who… who are you?" he asked, his voice trembling but defiant, his dark eyes narrowing as he tried to pierce the darkness. The voice laughed, a sound that shook the ground beneath his feet, sending small pebbles skittering across the dirt. "I am the forgotten shadow of death… and you, little child, are filled with a vengeance that calls to me. Step further, and you will find what you seek… or a death swifter than you can imagine."
Tianhao's heart pounded, his mind racing with a mix of fear and determination. The voice knew what he wanted—the Demon Book, the power to destroy his enemies—but its warning echoed the rumors he had heard in the sect courtyard. The Forbidden Forest was a place of death, a cursed realm where even Grand Elder Yan Huo of the Sacred Flame Sect had vanished. Yet Tianhao had nothing left to lose. His family was gone, his friend was lost, and the world had shown him no mercy. "I don't care if I die," he muttered, his voice low and resolute, his small hands clenching tighter. "I'll find that book… or I'll die trying." With a deep breath, he took another step, his small frame disappearing deeper into the mist, the whispers growing louder, more insistent, as if welcoming him into their embrace.
After what felt like hours of wandering, the mist began to thin, revealing a large stone covered in black moss, its surface etched with ancient, blood-red runes that glowed faintly in the darkness. Tianhao approached cautiously, his small fingers brushing the carvings, his eyes squinting as he tried to read the faded script. The words were in an old dialect, but he could make out enough to understand their meaning: "Stop here, or your next step will be a step toward death. This forest is not for the weak—only those willing to sell their soul to the demon will survive." Below the warning was a signature, barely legible: "Grand Elder Yan Huo, Sacred Flame Sect."
Tianhao's breath hitched, his mind flashing back to the rumors he had overheard—the Sacred Flame Sect elder who had ventured into the Forbidden Forest in search of the Demon Book, only to vanish without a trace. If a cultivator as powerful as Yan Huo had failed, what chance did a thirteen-year-old boy have? Yet the thought of turning back never crossed his mind. He had no home to return to, no family to protect, no hope to cling to. All he had was his vengeance, a black flame that burned brighter with every step. "I have nothing left to lose," he whispered, his voice cold, his dark eyes burning with resolve. He stepped past the stone, ignoring the warning, his small frame trembling with a mix of fear and determination.
The moment his foot touched the ground beyond the stone, the earth beneath him trembled, a low rumble echoing through the forest as if the very land was awakening. A crimson glow erupted from the cracks in the dirt, bathing the area in an eerie red light, and a small object rose from the ground—a worn ring, its surface pitch black with ancient demonic symbols etched in blood-red lines that pulsed like a heartbeat. The ring radiated a terrifying aura, a malevolent energy that seemed to whisper promises of power and destruction, its presence a living thing that reached for Tianhao's soul. Before he could react, the red light shot toward him, enveloping his small body in a searing heat that felt like fire coursing through his veins.
Tianhao screamed, his voice echoing through the forest, his small body collapsing to the ground as the pain tore through him, a torment unlike anything he had ever felt. It was as if his very soul was being ripped apart, his meridians burning, his bones cracking under the strain. "What… what is this?!" he cried, his voice raw, his hands clawing at the dirt as he writhed in agony. The same demonic voice from before laughed, its tone filled with dark amusement. "You have chosen this path, little child… embrace the suffering, and you will rise as something new," it said, the words a cruel promise, a vow of power at the cost of his humanity.
The red light seeped into Tianhao's body, and time in the Forbidden Forest seemed to accelerate, the days passing like seconds, the years like minutes. His small frame began to change, his bones lengthening, his muscles growing, his face hardening with the scars of his suffering. In what felt like an eternity but was mere moments in the forest's warped reality, Tianhao, who had been thirteen years old, became a seventeen-year-old youth, his body taller, stronger, but marked by the torment he had endured. His tattered clothes hung loosely on his new frame, his dark eyes now sharper, more piercing, filled with a hatred that had only grown with time. The ring had accelerated his age, but at a horrific cost—it had forced him to cultivate with demonic energy, a power that poisoned his body and soul.
Tianhao sat on the ground, his breath ragged, his body drenched in sweat and blood, his new frame trembling with the aftershocks of his transformation. The initial stages of demonic cultivation were a hell he couldn't have imagined, a torment that made the pain of his family's loss seem like a distant memory. Every night, he felt his meridians burning, as if molten lava coursed through them, his body wracked with spasms that left him screaming into the darkness. Blood often dripped from his nose and mouth, his skin growing pale and gaunt, his bones protruding beneath his flesh as he survived on bitter leaves and foul water from the forest's stagnant pools. Yet he didn't give up. The black flame of vengeance in his heart burned brighter than ever, fueled by the memories of his father's death, his mother's suicide, and Mei Lian's cries, driving him to endure the unendurable.
After what felt like years—though only months had passed in the forest's warped time—Tianhao finally reached the initial stage of demonic cultivation: Demonic Lianunionqi Layer 1. He could feel the black energy coursing through his veins, a power far greater than anything he had ever known, but it came at a cost. His humanity was slipping away, his heart growing colder, his thoughts consumed by visions of blood and vengeance. The ring wasn't the Demon Book he sought, but it had opened a path for him—a path of darkness and power, a path that would lead him to his enemies' destruction. He stood, his new seventeen-year-old frame towering over the spot where he had fallen, his dark eyes narrowing with a resolve that belied his age. "This ring isn't enough," he said, his voice deeper, colder, a far cry from the boy he had been. "I need the Demon Book… only with it can I make them suffer."
The Forbidden Forest stretched out before him, its darkness deeper and more treacherous than ever, its whispers growing louder, more insistent, as if calling him to his destiny. Tianhao was no longer the weak boy who had entered this cursed place—he was a seventeen-year-old youth, forged in pain and rage, his body and soul marked by the demonic energy that now flowed through him. With a steady step, he moved deeper into the forest, his eyes fixed on the path ahead, the mist swirling around him like a cloak of death. In the distance, the strange sounds echoed—hisses, growls, and demonic murmurs that seemed to whisper his name. But Tianhao was unafraid. "I will find that book," he said, his voice a chilling vow, "and when I have the power, you will all feel the hell you created for me."