The Rise of Power

The echoes of battle reverberated through the desolate land, the earth trembling beneath the sheer force of Zhang Yong's unleashed power. The air itself felt thick with tension, charged with the remnants of a violent clash that had just taken place. He stood, panting, his clothes shredded and bloodied, but his eyes burned with an unyielding fire.

Around him, the remnants of the invaders lay scattered—broken bodies and twisted, lifeless forms. Their struggle had been futile. Zhang Yong had shown no mercy, his cruelty becoming a cold necessity in his path to dominance. Each strike had been delivered with purpose, each movement a calculated execution. He had felt their fear, their desperation, as they scrambled to escape the inevitable. But none had escaped his wrath.

Among the fallen, one figure stirred—a solitary survivor. A woman, no older than Zhang Yong himself, her eyes filled with a mixture of disbelief and defiance. Her breathing was shallow, but her resolve remained. She was from a distant world, one where power was everything. But here, in this world, power was something Zhang Yong had already claimed.

"You... are different," she gasped, her voice barely audible. "Who... are you?"

Zhang Yong's lips curled into a grin, blood dripping from his fingers as he casually wiped it away. The woman's courage intrigued him, but it was of no consequence. He had no intention of leaving any loose ends, especially not now. He had learned long ago that hesitation was a luxury one could not afford.

"I am the one who will rule this world," he said coldly, stepping closer to her. His words were not a boast—they were a promise.

Her eyes widened in shock. "You... are the one they fear? The one who... has no mercy?"

Zhang Yong nodded slowly, his gaze unwavering. "I've never needed mercy. And neither do you."

The woman's hand shot out, reaching for a weapon hidden in her cloak. But it was too late. Zhang Yong was already upon her. In a blur of motion, his hand gripped her throat, lifting her off the ground. She gasped, her vision fading as the crushing pressure of his grasp cut off her air.

He looked into her eyes, seeing the fear and pain reflected back at him. It was a feeling he had become all too familiar with. He twisted his wrist, and with one swift motion, the woman's neck snapped, her body going limp in his grasp.

With a sigh, Zhang Yong released her and let her lifeless form fall to the ground. Her blood stained the earth beneath them, a stark contrast to the pale moonlight that bathed the battlefield. He didn't flinch. He didn't hesitate. To him, this was all part of the journey—the path of a true ruler.

As he stood over the fallen invaders, he felt the familiar buzz of the system—a new notification.

System Update:

You have killed a powerful invader, earning 500 points.

Your cultivation has increased: Qi Refinement Realm - Level 3

New ability unlocked: Hellfire Strike—Summon a destructive wave of flames that burns everything in its path.

Zhang Yong's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. His strength was growing, and with each kill, he became closer to his ultimate goal. He could feel the power coursing through him, the system's rewards amplifying his abilities. But he knew that this was only the beginning.

The world he had inherited was filled with threats, enemies who sought the very legacy that had made him the man he was today. But no one, no matter how powerful, would stand in his way.

He turned his gaze toward the horizon, the stars above serving as a silent reminder of what lay ahead. He was no longer just a man. He was something more—a force of nature, unstoppable and relentless.

"Soon," he whispered to himself, his voice carrying in the quiet night, "this world will belong to me."