The storm didn't just rain; it hammered the world into submission.
Dark clouds choked the sky, blotting out the moon and stars, turning the wilderness into a suffocating void. The downpour was relentless, a cacophony of hissing water and cracking thunder that brought with it a bone-deep, unnatural chill.
Zhao Ziling was drowning in it. Her clothes clung to her skin like a second, freezing layer, her hair plastered across her face in chaotic strands. But the cold was the least of her worries. Her shoulders screamed under the weight of the man she carried—a figure soaked not just in rain, but in blood.
"Brother Xu... you idiot... don't you dare die on me," she panted, her boots slipping on the muddy mountain path. She was running blind, fueled only by adrenaline and panic. "If you die, who am I supposed to bully? I forbid it. Do you hear me? Wake up!"
On her back, Xu Zifeng was a dead weight, his face the color of old ash. Every jostle of her stride forced a wet, rattling cough from his chest.
"Don't..." he wheezed, spit mixing with dark blood. "Don't go... that way. Great Omen... cough... ahead..."
Before he could finish, his body convulsed. Blood erupted from his mouth and nose, black and viscous, soaking into Zhao Ziling's shoulder. It smelled of copper and rot.
"Another bad omen? Seriously?" Zhao Ziling shouted into the wind, her voice cracking. "Your fortune-telling is useless!"
Despite her complaint, she violently shifted her weight, veering off the path and crashing through the underbrush in a new direction. She was terrified. Xu Zifeng was the calm one, the seer. If he said death lay ahead, it did.
But nowhere seemed safe. For hours, they had been playing a cat-and-mouse game with the dark. Every few miles, Xu would wake from his delirium just long enough to steer them away from an invisible death trap, forcing Ziling to zigzag through the treacherous, pitch-black mountains.
She stumbled, her knees scraping against jagged rocks, but she hauled herself up, refusing to stop. The stench coming from Xu was getting worse. It wasn't just the metallic tang of blood anymore; it was the sickly-sweet odor of decomposing meat.
If one were to peel back the robes on Xu Zifeng's back, one would find a nightmare. A claw mark, deep enough to expose the ribs, had turned the flesh into a blackened, necrotic mess. Worse, the wound was moving. Clusters of thick black hair were sprouting from the dead tissue, and wriggling among them were thousands of tiny, white corpse-worms, burrowing deeper into his vitals.
"Stay with me," Ziling pleaded, her constant chatter a shield against the silence. "Just stay awake."
Xu Zifeng pointed one last trembling finger into the dark, whispering a correction to their course, before his eyes rolled back. His head lolled against her neck, limp.
"Brother Xu! Hey! Wake up!" she screamed.
No answer. Only the roar of the rain.
Panic, cold and sharp, finally pierced her heart. She was alone. She ran until her lungs burned and her legs went numb. She had lost all sense of direction when, through the veil of rain, a shape emerged from the gloom.
It was a village. Silent, dark, and imposing, it stood isolated in the wilderness. Yet, there was a faint smell of woodsmoke—a promise of life.
Hope surged through Ziling. "People," she gasped. "Help!"
She sprinted toward the cluster of buildings, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten. She reached the first house and hammered on the wooden door.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
"Is anyone there? Please! I have a wounded man! Save us!"
Silence answered her.
She ran to the next house. Bang! Bang!
"Help! Anyone!"
Nothing. The village was dead quiet. The only light came from a few flickering lanterns swaying in the wind, casting long, dancing shadows. The rain pooled in the potholed streets, reflecting the eerie emptiness. Under normal circumstances, a veteran Spirit Exorcist like Zhao Ziling would have sensed the trap immediately. The feng shui was wrong; the silence was too heavy.
But fear makes fools of the wise. She was cold, desperate, and carrying a dying friend. She didn't have the luxury of suspicion.
She pushed deeper into the village, toward a larger structure. Behind her, the sound of a wooden hinge groaning cut through the rain.
Creak.
It was close, right behind her back.
Relief washed over her. "Thank god, you—"
She spun around, a smile forming on her lips, only for it to freeze instantly.
The door hadn't opened for a savior. It had opened to release a nightmare.
From the shadows of the doorway, a figure stepped out. It was roughly humanoid, but its skin was a canvas of gray rot, teeming with the same white worms that infested Xu. Its eyes were dead white orbs, devoid of pupils, staring hungrily at her life essence.
It wasn't just one. All around her, doors were creaking open. One by one, the Corpse Demons emerged, a silent army of the dead enclosing her in a circle of rotting flesh.
Ziling's blood ran cold. She stumbled back, her boots splashing in the mud.
Thud.
Her back hit something solid—a massive vermilion gate, studded with iron nails—the entrance to a wealthy estate. Instinct took over. She slammed her shoulder into the gate, bursting through the latch, and scrambled inside. She kicked the heavy doors shut and jammed a thick wooden beam across the handles, sealing them in.
"Come on, come on," she whimpered, hoisting Xu higher.
She ran into the courtyard, looking for a back exit. But as she neared the main hall of the estate, she froze.
The rain seemed to stop. The air grew thick and heavy, tasting of iron.
Ahead, in the open main hall, red lanterns cast a blood-colored glow. Suspended from the ceiling beams hung a creature that made the things outside look like children.
It was a Corpse Demon, but evolved. Its body was covered in hardened scales, like armor plating. Its fingers were elongated obsidian daggers, tipped with ten-centimeter claws. It hung motionless, like a bat, radiating an aura of absolute malice.
Its eyes snapped open.
They were scarlet, glowing with an intelligence that the others lacked.
BOOM.
A psychic shockwave hit Ziling. It wasn't physical; it was a hallucination so potent it felt real. The world dissolved into a sea of blood. She was drowning in gore, the thick, viscous fluid filling her nose, her mouth, her lungs. She couldn't breathe. She was suffocating in a nightmare of death.
"Help..." she gurgled, clawing at her throat, falling to her knees in the muddy courtyard. "Save... me..."
The scaled monster unhooked itself, dropping silently to the floor. It watched her struggle, savoring the terror.
Then, the sky tore open.
It started as a sound—a roar so primal and furious it drowned out the thunder.
"ROAR!"
Then came the heat.
A golden light erupted from the village entrance, shattering the darkness like a hammer through glass. It was a meteor, a comet of terrestrial fury plowing through the streets. Walls exploded. Stone turned to dust. The rain didn't just evaporate; it hissed into steam instantly.
The psychic sea of blood drowning Ziling vanished in a second, burned away by an overwhelming, aggressive aura of pure Yang energy.
Rumble!
Ziling turned her head, gasping for air. Through the shattered front gate of the estate, she saw it.
A golden streak was tearing through the army of Corpse Demons outside. It was a massacre. The figure moved with such velocity that the air ignited around it. Every punch, every kick sent limbs flying. But it wasn't just physical force; the figure was wreathed in golden flames—the Extreme Yang Divine Fire.
The demons didn't just die; they detonated. The fire consumed their yin energy, turning them to ash before they hit the ground.
"You ugly bastards!" a voice bellowed, shaking the foundations of the house. "You dare come out looking like that? Die! All of you, die!"
BOOM!
The heavy vermilion gate Ziling had barred was blown off its hinges. Splinters of wood became flaming projectiles.
Stepping through the inferno was a monster.
He stood over five meters tall. His skin was gray and armored with bone spikes. Muscles coiled around his frame like pythons, and a long, powerful bone tail lashed behind him. He looked like a demon from the deepest hell, but he was burning with the holy, golden fire of the sun.
It was Jiang Dao.
In his "Extreme Demon Form," he was a juggernaut of violence. He walked into the courtyard, the stone pavers cracking and blackening under his feet. Behind him, the street was a bonfire of burning corpses.
He was breathing fire, thick plumes of smoke and sparks escaping his gritted teeth. His golden eyes locked onto the scaled creature in the main hall.
"What are you staring at?" Jiang Dao growled, his voice a low rumble of tectonic plates shifting. "Get your ass over here and die."
Ziling stared, paralyzed. Her mind couldn't reconcile the image. This was a savior, but he looked more terrifying than the thing trying to kill her.
Inside the hall, the scaled Corpse Demon hesitated. For the first time in centuries, I felt fear. The Yang energy radiating from Jiang Dao was anathema to its existence. It felt like standing next to a blast furnace. The candle flames in the hall flickered and died, suffocated by Jiang Dao's presence.
On the demon's body, the rot accelerated. The holy fire was cooking it from a distance. White worms burst from its skin, writhing in agony.
Jiang Dao scowled. "Disgusting. Why are your things always so filthy? It ruins my appetite."
"You seek death!" the Corpse Demon hissed, its voice like grinding stones.
It shrieked, launching a wave of mental energy at Jiang Dao before vanishing in a blur of speed. It reappeared instantly at Jiang Dao's flank, claws slashing toward his throat.
Clang!
The claws raked across Jiang Dao's neck, but they didn't cut skin. They sparked against his hardened hide. Four of the demon's long nails snapped on impact.
Worse for the creature, the contact acted as a conduit. The golden fire leaped from Jiang Dao's skin onto the demon's hand, burrowing into the flesh like a living parasite.
The demon howled, trying to retreat, but Jiang Dao was faster.
"Too slow."
Jiang Dao's hand, the size of a shovel, lashed out in a backhand slap.
Whack!
The sound was wet and crunchy. The Corpse Demon's chest caved in. Ribs shattered, scales cracked, and the creature was sent hurtling backward. But before it could fly away, Jiang Dao snatched its ankle.
He held the massive monster upside down like a rag doll.
"What are you howling for?" Jiang Dao roared. "Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP!"
Bam! Bam! Bam!
He slammed the demon into the stone floor. Once. Twice. Three times. The courtyard shook with each impact. The golden fire rushed down Jiang Dao's arm, into the demon's leg, and consumed its internal organs. The creature was burning from the inside out.
"Ahhh!" the demon screamed, a sound of pure agony.
Squelch.
Jiang Dao stomped. His massive foot crushed the demon's head like a ripe melon. The screaming stopped. The headless body twitched once, then dissolved into a heap of burning ash.
Silence returned to the courtyard, save for the crackling of fire and the hiss of rain turning to steam.
Jiang Dao stood panting, the rage still buzzing in his brain. The killing hadn't been enough. He wanted more. His golden eyes darted around, looking for a target. They landed on Zhao Ziling.
She froze. The killing intent rolling off him was physical.
"Gang Leader Jiang..." she squeaked, backing away until she slipped into a puddle. "I didn't kill anyone! Don't eat me!"
Jiang Dao stared at her, his brow furrowing. The fog of rage slowly lifted. He remembered who she was. He remembered he was human.
He closed his eyes and inhaled. He cycled the Yin Sha Mystic Heart Mantra, a cooling technique. The golden flames receded, sucked back into his pores. His muscles compressed, bones shifted, and the spikes retracted. Within seconds, the five-meter-tall behemoth shrank back down to a towering, but human, two-meter stature.
He stood there in tattered rags, steam rising from his skin.
"Are you hurt?" his voice rasped.
"I... I'm fine," Ziling stammered, staring at him as if he were a ghost. "Are you... sane?"
"Define sane," Jiang Dao grunted. He walked toward her.
Ziling flinched, instinctively trying to grab Xu Zifeng to run.
"Stop," Jiang Dao commanded. "If I wanted you dead, running wouldn't save you."
He crouched beside the unconscious Xu Zifeng. "He's hurt?"
"Yes," Ziling said, her voice trembling. "Corpse poison. From the Thirteen Corpse Demon Mountains. We need to find my master—"
"No time," Jiang Dao interrupted. "I can fix it."
He didn't wait for permission. He grabbed Xu Zifeng, flipped him over, and placed a massive hand over the festering wound on his back.
Whoosh.
He pushed a surge of Extreme Yang Qi into Xu's body. It was a blunt instrument, not a scalpel. The golden energy flooded Xu's system like a tidal wave of disinfectant. The white worms shrieked and incinerated. The black hair withered to ash. The black, poisoned blood was boiled away, leaving clean, red flesh underneath.
Xu Zifeng convulsed, coughing up a final clot of black phlegm. Color rushed back into his pale face.
"Cough... Gang Leader Jiang?" Xu blinked his eyes open, weak but lucid. "You saved us?"
Jiang Dao stood up, wiping his hands on his rags. "Your master saved me from the Spirit Corpse Mark. We're even. But tell me—what did you two find? Why is the entire Corpse Demon sect hunting you?"
Xu Zifeng struggled to sit up, fear returning to his eyes. "We found the 'Path of Asking Immortals.' They've allied with the Thirteen Corpse Demon Mountains. They are performing blood sacrifices across the Southern Region to open the Gate of Profound Yin."
Jiang Dao's eyes narrowed. "They want to open the Underworld?"
"They want to uncover the truth of Black Mountain Ridge," Xu explained. "And they brought an Ancestor. A thousand-year-old monster."
Jiang Dao looked at the burning wreckage of the courtyard. A cold, calculating smile crept onto his face. It was almost more terrifying than his rage.
"So," Jiang Dao said softly. "You're being hunted. They want you dead."
"Yes," Ziling said, shivering.
"Good," Jiang Dao said. "Then I have a favor to ask you."
"What... what favor?" Xu asked, dread pooling in his stomach.
Jiang Dao looked down at them, his eyes gleaming with predatory intent.
"I need bait."