Veil of The Demon

"So… it was successful in the end?" Yanwei's voice was laced with amusement, but his eyes held something far more dangerous. He let out a low chuckle, tilting his head as if savoring the moment.

"Heavens, oh heavens," he murmured, lifting his gaze to the endless sky. "You dared to stand in my way… and now you offer me this golden age?"

A deep, chilling pressure filled the air. Even the wind seemed to hesitate. A lone bird, caught in his aura, trembled violently before fleeing into the distance.

Yanwei's lips curled, his fingers tapping against his wrist like a hunter waiting for his prey to move.

"The sons of heaven, the so-called chosen ones of this era… How many of them will I tear down?" His voice was calm, almost playful, but the weight behind his words sent a shiver through the air.

He exhaled slowly, as if already savoring the hunt. "No need to rush. I'll take my time."

His eyes gleamed in the dim light, sharp as a beast lying in wait. "After all, games like this are best enjoyed slowly."

Then, without missing a beat, he turned to the nearest passerby. "What sects are nearby? I need information."

….

In a bustling marketplace, two young cultivators stood near a tea stall, speaking in hushed tones.

"Hey, you know about that demon everyone's afraid of?"

The other shuddered. "Who hasn't? They say the heavens punished him, and in the end, he took his own life. Blew himself up and nearly wiped out billions—including our entire human race."

"That's insane," the first cultivator whispered. "No wonder the heavens punished him. But if he survived a catastrophe, why would he kill himself?"

The other hesitated before answering. "Who knows? That demon was so unpredictable that no one could guess his next move."

He glanced around nervously, then lowered his voice even more. "But now that he's dead… do you think the other races will take this chance to destroy our race?"

"Why are you even worrying about that? That's the higher-ups' problem, not ours. We just follow orders."

He sighed "That's right.."

…

"Yo you two, can i ask what's the near sect around here and when are they accepting rouge cultivators??"

One of the cultivators gave Yanwei a slow once-over, his lips curling. "Tsk. And here I thought beggars weren't allowed in town."

"But he still said with a straight face "The nearest sects in this Divine sword sect, Cloudveil sect, and Gentle Breeze sect."

"They are going to start recruiting after a month" The other cultivator said outside, but at the inside he said "This Peasant is really daring to even dream so high."

Yanwei smiled and flicked a spiritual stone toward the two cultivators. A small gesture, almost careless. But as he turned to leave, his brow arched.

"For a single stone, I'm already being targeted?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. I need to fix my habits… I'm not invincible like before.

Leaving the town, he stepped into the nearby forest, his pace slow, unhurried. Yet, after only a few moments, he spoke—without turning back.

"My two friends, why are you following me? Do you want to sip tea with me?"

The air behind him tensed. The two cultivators stiffened, their hands twitching toward their weapons.

"Friends?" one sneered. "A damn backwater rat like you doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as us."

The other laughed mockingly. "That's right. Do you even own a mirror? You're nothing but a stray dog begging for scraps."

Yanwei sighed.

"I see… If you're not here for tea, then you must be here to die."

The first man barely had time to blink before cold steel kissed his forehead. A flash of silver, and then—darkness. His body collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, his last breath stolen before he could even understand what happened.

The second man's heart nearly leapt out of his chest.

"What the—?! This guy—he's experienced!"

Panic seized him. He turned to run, instincts screaming at him to flee. He didn't even spare a glance at his dead companion.

But Yanwei was already moving.

The moment the fool thought he had escaped, a second dagger was waiting—a cold fang gleaming in the dark.

A sharp gurgle. A shudder. Silence.

Yanwei sighed as he wiped his blade clean. "A stray dog should know when to bite and when to kneel."

Without another word, he disappeared into the night.