Chapter 17: A Clash Of Monsters (Part 2)

He didn't fight the pull. Instead, he let himself fall—only to twist his body midair, driving his dagger straight toward Wu Jian's throat.

Wu Jian's smirk twisted into a snarl as he pulled back, barely avoiding the lethal strike. But Zhang Yan had already anticipated his reaction. The moment Wu Jian evaded, Zhang Yan's own shadow lurched forward, tendrils snapping toward his opponent's leg.

For the first time, Wu Jian's expression darkened. He stepped back, but it was too late. Zhang Yan's shadow latched onto him, holding him just long enough for Zhang Yan to push forward.

A calculated trade.

Wu Jian's dagger drove deep into Zhang Yan's side, a fiery pain tearing through his flesh. But Zhang Yan didn't falter. He gritted his teeth, ignoring the sensation of warm blood trickling down his waist.

His dagger pierced Wu Jian's heart.

Wu Jian's body jerked, his eyes widening in disbelief. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came—only a gurgling choke as blood welled at his lips.

Zhang Yan twisted the blade.

A violent shudder wracked Wu Jian's form before the light in his eyes faded. His body slumped forward, and Zhang Yan let him drop lifelessly to the ground.

Then, he staggered.

Pain flared from his wound, a deep and searing agony that made his vision blur. His breath came in short, ragged bursts, and his knees threatened to buckle.

But then—

The Demon Seed within him thrummed.

The pulse of dying qi seeped from Wu Jian's corpse, flowing into Zhang Yan's outstretched hand. He inhaled sharply as the essence poured into him, raw and untamed, his Demon Seed devouring it with an insatiable hunger.

And then—

Something broke.

A surge of power erupted within him, washing away the pain as his flesh rippled with unseen force. The gash in his side closed, the torn flesh knitting together as if it had never been wounded. His bones felt denser, his muscles tightening with newfound strength.

His qi expanded, growing heavier and more refined. His Demon Seed pulsed in satisfaction, and his shadow…

It shifted.

No longer just an extension of his form, it moved—with purpose, with hunger, with something almost sentient as it pounced on Wu Jian's cultivated shadow.

Like a rootless duckweed, unable to use it's strength—it was torn asunder as Zhang Yan's shadow consumed it.

Zhang Yan exhaled slowly, his breath misting in the cold air. He clenched his fists, feeling the raw, intoxicating strength coursing through him. He had broken through.

No longer bound to the Flesh Tempering Layer—he had stepped into the next stage, The Blood Ignition Stage.

He looked down at Wu Jian's corpse, his expression unreadable. The rival who had nearly killed him was gone, his strength now fueling Zhang Yan's ascent.

With a slow breath, Zhang Yan turned and stepped into the shadows of the forest, his presence now darker, heavier.

The night was still young.

And he was getting hungry...