The Forbidden Forest seemed to grow darker with every step Ling Tianhao took, its oppressive presence a constant weight on his shoulders, as if the very air sought to crush him. Now seventeen years old, Tianhao was a far cry from the frail boy who had entered this cursed place—his body hardened by the demonic ring's transformation, his dark eyes sharp with a cold, unyielding resolve. The wounds from his battle with the Demonic Blood Wolf still burned, the venom's lingering sting a constant reminder of his near-death encounter, but the black energy of Demonic Lianunionqi Layer 1 coursed through his veins, fueling his determination to press on. His tattered clothes hung loosely on his gaunt frame, stained with blood and dirt, his hands still trembling from the fight, but his steps were steady, driven by the black flame of vengeance that burned brighter than ever.
The forest's grayish-black mist swirled around him, its whispers growing louder, more insistent, as if the darkness itself was guiding him deeper into its heart. The twisted black trees loomed overhead, their sharp branches casting jagged shadows under the faint moonlight, their gnarled trunks oozing a faint, crimson sap that hissed as it dripped to the ground. Strange sounds echoed through the mist—hisses, growls, and murmurs that seemed to whisper his name, their tones a mix of mockery and invitation. Yet Tianhao's focus remained unshaken, 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 were a constant torment, their faces haunting his every step, fueling the rage that kept him alive. His father's lifeless body, beaten to death by Gu Shan's men; his mother's blood staining the shack floor, her final act of defiance against a world that had broken her; Mei Lian's cries as she was dragged away, sold into slavery because he was too weak to protect her—these images were seared into his mind, 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 anger. "I'll find that book… I'll burn them all."
As he ventured deeper, the mist began to thin, revealing a narrow ravine carved into the earth, its walls jagged and steep, etched with faint, glowing runes that pulsed with a dark energy. At the bottom of the ravine, a faint light shimmered, a soft golden glow that stood out against the forest's oppressive darkness. Tianhao's dark eyes narrowed, his instincts telling him to be cautious, but the light drew him in, a beacon in the sea of shadows. He descended carefully, his hands gripping the jagged rocks for support, his wounds protesting with every movement. The air grew colder as he reached the bottom, the demonic energy thicker, pressing down on him like a physical weight, but the golden light grew brighter, revealing its source—a small, cracked jade pendant, its surface etched with the emblem of a flame, lying amidst a pile of scattered bones.
Tianhao knelt beside the pendant, his fingers brushing its surface, the faint warmth of the jade a stark contrast to the forest's chill. The moment he touched it, the golden light flared, and a translucent figure materialized before him—a man in tattered robes, his face lined with age, his eyes glowing with a faint, golden fire. The figure's aura was powerful, even in death, a remnant of a cultivator who had once stood at the peak of power. "Who… who are you?" Tianhao asked, his voice low and wary, his hand tightening around the pendant, the demonic energy within him flaring in response to the new presence.
The figure's eyes met his, their golden glow piercing through the darkness, and when he spoke, his voice was a deep, resonant echo, filled with a mix of sorrow and resolve. "I am Yan Huo, Grand Elder of the Sacred Flame Sect… or what remains of me," he said, his tone heavy with the weight of his past. "I came to this cursed forest in search of the Demon Book, seeking the power to destroy my enemies… but I underestimated its guardians. My body was torn apart, my soul bound to this pendant, a prisoner of my own ambition." He paused, his gaze softening as he studied Tianhao, his eyes lingering on the boy's scars, the demonic energy that radiated from him. "And you, child… I see the same fire in you that once burned in me. Vengeance… it drives you, doesn't it?"
Tianhao's jaw clenched, his dark eyes burning with a mix of anger and pain, the memories of his family flashing through his mind. "My father was murdered… my mother took her own life… my friend was sold into slavery," he said, his voice trembling with rage, his hands clenching into fists. "The Gray Stone Sect… Gu Shan… they took everything from me. I need the Demon Book. I need the power to make them pay." His words were a vow, a declaration of his unyielding resolve, the black flame of vengeance in his heart burning brighter than ever.
Yan Huo's translucent form flickered, his golden eyes filled with a mix of pity and understanding, but also a warning. "The path of demonic cultivation is a road of no return," he said, his voice a low rumble, his words heavy with the weight of experience. "I sought that power, and it destroyed me. The Demon Book lies deeper in this forest, in a cave guarded by a beast far stronger than the one you faced—a creature born of the forest's darkest energy. But even if you claim the book, its power will consume you… it will strip away your humanity, leaving nothing but a shell of rage and destruction." He paused, his gaze piercing, his voice softening. "Turn back, child. Find another path. Vengeance will not bring back what you've lost."
Tianhao's eyes darkened, his hands trembling, his mind a storm of conflicting emotions. For a moment, he saw his mother's face, her gentle smile as she sang the lotus flower song, her plea to stay kind even in the face of cruelty. He saw his father's warm eyes, his stories of the Jade Emperor, his final words to stay strong. He saw Mei Lian's shy smile, her small hand offering him a steamed bun, her cries as she was taken away. A flicker of doubt passed through him, a whisper of the boy he had once been, a boy who had dreamed of a better world. But that boy was gone, buried beneath the blood of his family, the tears of his mother, the cries of his friend. "I have no other path," he said, his voice cold, his dark eyes meeting Yan Huo's with a resolve that belied his age. "I'll take that power… I'll become a demon if I must. They'll pay for what they've done… even if it destroys me."
Yan Huo's form flickered again, his golden eyes filled with sorrow, but he nodded, a faint sigh escaping his lips. "So be it," he said, his voice a whisper, his form beginning to fade. "The cave lies to the north, beyond the Blood River… but beware, child. The beast that guards the Demon Book is a creature of pure malice, a shadow of the forest's darkest heart. If you survive… you will find the power you seek." With those final words, his form dissolved, the golden light of the pendant dimming, leaving Tianhao alone in the ravine, the cracked jade pendant now cold in his hand.
Tianhao stood, his new seventeen-year-old frame trembling with a mix of exhaustion and resolve, his dark eyes fixed on the path ahead. The pendant had given him a direction, a clue to the Demon Book's location, but Yan Huo's warning echoed in his mind, a faint whisper of doubt that he quickly silenced. He had no room for doubt, no room for fear—only vengeance, a black flame that burned brighter with every step. 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. With a steady step, he moved north, the mist closing in around him, the path to the Blood River and the Demon Book lying ahead—a path of power, of darkness, of retribution.