In the year 20xx, a handsome man in his early twenties lay motionless on the ground before a temple gate, sprawled out on his back. He was dressed in a black casual suit and blue jeans.
A middle-aged doctor, having just stepped out of an ambulance, was performing emergency first aid. Moments later, however, the doctor removed his thick glasses, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and shook his head.
As soon as the doctor gave the signal, the man was placed on a stretcher. A nurse pulled a white sheet over him, covering his entire body—including his handsome face.
The onlookers knew exactly what it meant: the young man was dead.
"Such a shame," a middle-aged woman sighed, her heart aching at the sight. "He looked perfectly healthy. How could he just drop dead in front of a temple?"
"He came early this morning to offer incense, but he was killed by a string of Buddhist prayer beads! Look over there—it's the beads that monk threw!" another gossiping woman chimed in. She pointed toward a fat monk surrounded by two policemen, her eyes filled with disappointment at the state of modern clergy.
The monk was no ordinary fat man; his frame was so immense that, without limbs, he would have looked like two fleshy spheres of different sizes stacked together.
At that moment, the fat monk was wailing, "Officer, I'm just trying to make a living! I admit to a little swindling here and there, but how can you say I killed someone? I only threw a string of prayer beads. How could a strong, healthy young man be killed by a string of beads?"
"What kind of beads?" the officer asked sternly.
"The kind you wear on your wrist—eighteen beads total. I found them in the temple's backyard last year. That kid was a lunatic! He came to my stall this morning calling me a fraud, saying he'd tear down my sign. I threw the beads at him in a fit of rage, but they really shouldn't have killed him!" The monk gestured wildly, protesting his innocence.
"Where are the beads now?" the officer asked.
"I don't know! It's like they vanished the moment they hit him!" the monk cried.
The officer turned to the crowd. "Did anyone see where the beads went?"
Everyone shook their heads. In broad daylight, the murder weapon had completely disappeared. Faced with such a bizarre event, the officers felt cold sweat beading on their brows.
---
The Izumo Continent
In the southeast of the Izumo Continent lies the Kingdom of Cheyun, a nation that has stood for over eight thousand years. To its east lies the Bloodflame Mountain Range.
This range is world-renowned for both its majesty and its lethality. It stretches three hundred thousand li from east to west and nearly eighty thousand li from north to south. Its snow-capped peaks pierce the clouds, making them impassable even for birds. Its treacherous nature lies in sheer cliffs, poisonous miasmas, and demonic beasts lurking in the valleys. Even legendary immortals risk their lives if they grow careless here.
It is called the Bloodflame Range because it is often shrouded in a spectacular blood-red light that blots out the sky, making the mountains appear to be engulfed in crimson fire.
The reason for this phenomenon is the Blood Refining Sect, one of the seven great demonic sects of the Izumo Continent, which has built its gates deep within these mountains.
On the surface, there are no grand pavilions—only caves. But beneath the earth lies a staggering underground world. Hidden within the grottoes are all the grand structures a sect requires. While it lacks the ethereal grace of a fairyland, it possesses a dark, majestic grandeur.
In a secluded corner of this underground world, inside a cramped stone chamber, a youth of about seventeen or eighteen sat staring wide-eyed at a string of Buddhist prayer beads in his hands.
"That damn fat monk... he was actually ruthless enough to send me to another world!"
The youth's name was Lin Haoming. His voice was thick with resentment. Back on Earth, he had been a top medical student with a bright career ahead of him. As an orphan who had struggled his way to the top through sheer self-reliance, having it all snatched away felt like a cruel joke.
He had arrived in a world of cultivation, but his luck was dismal. He was a disciple of a Demonic Sect. Worse, his aptitude was bottom-tier. To top it off, he carried a target on his back.
The original Lin Haoming had a grandfather who was a Golden Core cultivator. Back then, Lin Haoming was arrogant and domineering. But since his grandfather died a few years ago, he had become the favorite punching bag for the other disciples. He went from living in spirit-rich caves attended by beautiful maids to a damp corner of the grotto, performing back-breaking labor and suffering constant bullying.
In a Demonic Sect, there is no "taking care of the descendants of old friends." If you aren't strong, you are nothing.
"Lin Haoming! It's payday. Why are you hiding in your hole? Are you planning to forfeit your share?"
A hoarse voice drifted in from outside. Lin Haoming quickly hid the prayer beads and headed out. The man speaking was Hai Futong, a bearded man in his thirties at the 9th level of Qi Refining. He was the manager in charge of about twenty outer disciples, including Lin Haoming.
Standing in the massive natural cavern, Lin Haoming watched as Hai Futong distributed pale yellow pills from a jade bottle. When it was Lin Haoming's turn, the manager held out only a single pill.
"Manager Hai, why is there only one?" Lin Haoming blurted out.
Hai Futong snorted coldly. "Didn't you say yourself that three pills a month were too many for you to refine, so you'd 'store' two with me? Do you want them back now?"
Lin Haoming stiffened as a memory surfaced. To avoid being beaten, the original Lin Haoming had "voluntarily" offered two-thirds of his monthly salary to Hai Futong for protection.
In this world, cultivation is divided into Qi Refining, Foundation Establishment, Golden Core, and Nascent Soul. Each stage has ten levels (1-3 Initial, 4-6 Middle, 7-9 Late, 10 Great Perfection). Lin Haoming was currently stuck at the 6th level of Qi Refining. Without pills or a good environment, his mixed spiritual roots made progress nearly impossible.
"Alright, back to work! Or don't blame me for being rough!" Hai Futong announced after finishing the distribution.
As Lin Haoming turned to leave, two men blocked his path. The leader, Li Haiying, smirked. "Young Master Lin, I'm close to breaking through to the 9th level, but I'm a few pills short. Care to 'lend' me yours?"
Lin Haoming frowned. "Li Haiying, I'm under Manager Hai's protection."
Li Haiying laughed mockingly. "Kid, you haven't heard? This is Hai Futong's last day. He's being transferred. Starting next month, I'm the one in charge of this area. If you're smart, hand over every pill you get from now on."
Hai Futong had only taken two; Li Haiying wanted them all. Lin Haoming realized that if he gave in now, he would never escape this cycle of misery. He wasn't willing to die a pathetic death in a hole.
Knowing that killing fellow disciples was forbidden within the sect's living quarters, Lin Haoming took a gamble. He looked Li Haiying in the eye, tossed the single pill into his mouth, swallowed it, and smiled.
"Sorry. I'm all out."