The Forbidden Forest seemed to pulse with a malevolent life of its own, its grayish-black mist swirling around Ling Tianhao like a shroud of death, whispering promises of power and doom. Now seventeen years old, Tianhao was no longer the frail boy who had entered this cursed place—his body had been transformed by the demonic ring, his frame taller and stronger, his dark eyes sharper, filled with a cold resolve that belied his age. Yet the scars of his suffering were etched into his flesh, his pale skin marked by the torment of his initial demonic cultivation, his tattered clothes hanging loosely on his gaunt frame. The black energy of Demonic Lianunionqi Layer 1 coursed through his veins, a power that made his every step feel heavier, as if the forest itself was testing his will to survive.
Tianhao moved deeper into the forest, his steady steps echoing through the silence, his senses heightened by the demonic energy that now flowed within him. The twisted black trees loomed overhead, their sharp branches casting jagged shadows under the faint moonlight that pierced the mist. The air was thick with the stench of decay, a constant reminder of the countless lives that had been claimed by this place. Strange sounds echoed around him—hisses, growls, and whispers that seemed to call his name, their tones a mix of mockery and invitation. Yet Tianhao pressed on, his mind fixed on a single goal: the Demon Book, the key to the power he needed to destroy his enemies—Gu Shan, Huo Gang, Huo Wuchang, and the entire Gray Stone Sect.
The memories of his family and Mei Lian burned in his mind, fueling the black flame of vengeance that had become his only reason to live. His father's lifeless body, beaten to death like a dog; his mother's blood staining the shack floor, her final act of defiance against Gu Shan's cruelty; Mei Lian's cries as she was dragged away, sold into slavery because he was too weak to protect her—these images haunted him, driving him forward even as the forest seemed to close in around him. "I'll make them pay," he muttered, his voice a low growl, his hands clenching into fists, the demonic energy within him flaring with his rage. "I'll find that book… I'll burn them all."
As he ventured deeper, the mist began to thin, revealing a narrow path that led to a clearing surrounded by jagged rocks, their surfaces etched with faint, glowing runes that pulsed with a dark energy. In the center of the clearing stood a massive tree, its trunk wider than ten men standing shoulder to shoulder, its bark black as night, oozing a thick, crimson sap that dripped to the ground with a hiss, as if the tree itself was bleeding. The air around it was heavier, the demonic energy thicker, pressing down on Tianhao like a physical weight. His instincts screamed at him to turn back, but he ignored them, his dark eyes narrowing as he stepped into the clearing, his resolve unshaken.
The moment his foot touched the ground, the earth beneath him trembled, a low rumble echoing through the forest as the crimson sap began to bubble, the tree's branches creaking as if awakening from a long slumber. A deep, guttural growl reverberated through the clearing, and from the shadows of the tree emerged a creature of nightmare—a Demonic Blood Wolf, its massive body the size of a horse, its fur black as the void, streaked with crimson veins that glowed like molten lava. Its eyes burned with a malevolent yellow light, its jagged fangs dripping with a venom that sizzled as it hit the ground, and its claws, long and sharp, glinted with a deadly promise. The beast's aura was suffocating, a mix of demonic energy and raw, primal rage, far stronger than anything Tianhao had ever faced.
Tianhao's heart pounded, his breath coming in sharp gasps, but he didn't retreat. The demonic energy within him flared, responding to the threat, his dark eyes meeting the wolf's gaze with a defiance born of his hatred. "If you want to kill me, you'll have to try harder than that," he said, his voice cold, his hands clenching as he prepared to fight. The wolf let out a deafening roar, the sound shaking the clearing, and charged, its massive body a blur of black and crimson, its claws slashing through the air with deadly precision.
Tianhao dodged to the side, his new, stronger body moving faster than he ever could have as a thirteen-year-old, the demonic energy enhancing his reflexes. The wolf's claws raked the ground where he had stood, leaving deep gouges in the earth, its venom sizzling as it burned through the dirt. Tianhao rolled to his feet, his mind racing as he assessed his opponent. He had no weapons, no training, only the raw power of his Demonic Lianunionqi Layer 1 and the unyielding will to survive. "I can't fight it head-on," he thought, his dark eyes scanning the clearing for anything he could use. His gaze landed on a jagged rock near the edge of the clearing, its edge sharp enough to serve as a makeshift weapon.
The wolf charged again, its jaws snapping, its venomous fangs inches from Tianhao's face. He dove for the rock, his hands closing around it just as the wolf's claws slashed across his back, tearing through his tattered shirt and leaving deep, burning wounds. Tianhao gritted his teeth, the pain fueling his rage, and spun around, swinging the rock with all his strength. The jagged edge struck the wolf's flank, drawing a spray of black blood that hissed as it hit the ground, the beast letting out a howl of fury. But the wound only enraged it further, its yellow eyes glowing brighter, its movements growing faster, more ferocious.
Tianhao fought with everything he had, his new body pushed to its limits, the demonic energy within him flaring with each strike. He dodged and weaved, using the clearing's rocks for cover, striking at the wolf whenever he saw an opening, his jagged rock drawing more blood with each hit. But the wolf was relentless, its claws and fangs a constant threat, its venom burning his skin with every near miss. Blood dripped from Tianhao's wounds, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his vision blurring as the pain and exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him. Yet he didn't stop. The black flame of vengeance in his heart burned brighter than ever, fueled by the memories of his family, the thought of Gu Shan's sneer, Huo Gang's laughter, and the Gray Stone Sect's cruelty.
With a final, desperate surge of strength, Tianhao lunged forward, his jagged rock aimed at the wolf's eye. The beast roared, its jaws snapping, but Tianhao was faster, the rock sinking deep into the wolf's glowing eye with a sickening squelch. The creature let out a piercing howl, its massive body thrashing as black blood poured from the wound, its movements growing erratic. Tianhao didn't hesitate—he struck again, driving the rock into the wolf's throat, severing its windpipe with a final, brutal blow. The beast collapsed, its body twitching for a moment before falling still, its crimson veins dimming, its yellow eyes fading to a lifeless gray.
Tianhao stood over the corpse, his chest heaving, his body trembling with exhaustion, his wounds burning with the wolf's venom. Blood dripped from his hands, mixing with the black ichor on the ground, his jagged rock still clutched in his grip. He had survived—barely—but the fight had taken its toll. His vision swam, his legs buckling beneath him, and he fell to his knees, his breath coming in shallow gasps. Yet even in his pain, a cold smile curled his lips, his dark eyes glinting with a savage satisfaction. "One step closer," he whispered, his voice hoarse, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. "I'll find that book… I'll grow stronger… and I'll make them all pay."
The Forbidden Forest stretched out before him, its darkness deeper and more treacherous than ever, its whispers growing louder, more insistent, as if the forest itself was watching, waiting to see how far he would go. Tianhao forced himself to his feet, his wounds throbbing, his body screaming in protest, but his resolve unshaken. He was no longer a boy—he was a seventeen-year-old youth, forged in blood and pain, his heart a furnace of vengeance that would not be quenched until his enemies lay broken at his feet. With a steady step, he moved deeper into the forest, the mist closing in around him, the whispers calling him to his destiny—a destiny of power, of darkness, of retribution.