Path of No Return(2)
"Power is neither righteous nor evil. It is the wielder who gives it meaning."
---
The cold wind howled through the mountains, carrying whispers of the dead.
Xian Ren stood at the cave's entrance, the Forsaken Blade resting against his back. The weight of it was unlike any sword he had ever held—not because of its size or shape, but because of the presence that pulsed within.
It was alive.
And it was hungry.
He could feel it gnawing at the edge of his consciousness, testing his resolve, whispering temptations in a voice that slithered through his mind like silk.
You are weak.
You need more.
Let me show you what true strength is.
Xian Ren exhaled, his breath visible in the cold air.
He had made his choice the moment he had grasped the blade. There was no turning back.
He tightened his grip and took his first step forward.
The descent into darkness had begun.
---
The journey to the Iron Vein Sect's stronghold would take weeks.
Through valleys cloaked in mist. Across rivers turned black from the taint of war. Past ruins of forgotten sects, where the bones of failed cultivators lay unburied, their ambitions turned to dust.
But Xian Ren did not travel blindly.
He needed more power.
More than what the Forsaken Blade alone could grant him.
His mother had once spoken of ancient techniques hidden within the world, techniques lost to time. Forbidden arts sealed away by those who feared their consequences.
And he would find them.
For what he sought was not the power of a mere sect, nor the strength of mortal cultivators.
He sought something greater.
Something that would allow him to stand above all.
Even above the heavens themselves.
---
Three days into his journey, the nightmares began.
They came with the silence of the night, creeping into his mind like shadows.
Visions of his mother, her body broken, her eyes empty.
The laughter of the sect elders as they watched her die.
The mocking voices of those who had cast him aside, calling him a cursed child, a stain upon the world.
And through it all, the Forsaken Blade whispered.
Do you see now?
The world does not care for justice. The heavens do not weep for the weak.
Only power decides who lives and who dies.
Xian Ren woke each night with a cold sweat, his fingers tightening around the hilt of the sword.
His heart did not waver.
He had long abandoned the foolish hope that justice would come.
If the world would not punish the wicked, then he would.
---
By the fifth day, he reached the ruins of the Scarlet Moon Sect.
It was once a powerful sect, before it was annihilated in a single night.
No one knew what had destroyed them.
No survivors. No warnings. Just silence.
Xian Ren walked through the broken gates, his steps echoing through the abandoned halls.
Skeletons lined the corridors, their bones blackened, their flesh long devoured by time.
But there was something here.
A presence.
He felt it the moment he entered. A lingering malice in the air, watching, waiting.
And then, from the shadows, a voice rasped.
"You should not have come here, child."
Xian Ren turned, his red eyes narrowing.
A figure sat upon a crumbling throne at the heart of the ruined sect.
A man—if he could still be called that.
His body was skeletal, his robes tattered, his once-proud face twisted with something unnatural. His eyes, hollow and sunken, gleamed with an eerie light.
A cultivator who had refused to die.
A remnant of the past, bound to this place.
Xian Ren did not bow.
"I came to learn," he said. "And you will teach me."
The figure chuckled, a sound like dry leaves in the wind.
"You are bold. But boldness alone is not enough."
With a flick of his wrist, the air trembled.
The ruins came alive. Shadows slithered across the walls, forming shapes—figures with empty eyes, their whispers filling the air.
The spirits of the Scarlet Moon Sect.
Bound to their master.
Waiting for the next fool to challenge them.
Xian Ren unsheathed the Forsaken Blade.
The sword pulsed. The spirits recoiled, sensing its hunger.
The skeletal man's smile widened.
"Interesting."
He stood, his aura unfurling like a storm.
"If you wish to learn, then survive."
And the battle began.
---
The spirits attacked in waves.
They moved like ghosts, flickering in and out of existence, their claws passing through stone as if it were air.
Xian Ren's body moved before his mind could think.
His blade cut through the first spirit, but it did not die.
It screamed, its form twisting, before vanishing into the sword itself.
The Forsaken Blade devoured it.
Xian Ren barely had time to register it before the others descended upon him.
A dozen. Two dozen. A hundred.
A storm of the dead.
His body became a blur. Each strike was precise, each movement calculated.
His cultivation was not yet high, but he had something they did not.
A weapon that did not simply kill.
It consumed.
The spirits wailed as they were swallowed, their forms torn apart by the blade's hunger.
And with each soul devoured, Xian Ren felt it.
Power.
Flowing into him like a flood, rushing through his veins, burning away his exhaustion.
His strikes became faster.
His movements sharper.
He was no longer just fighting.
He was growing.
By the time the last spirit fell, the ruins had fallen silent once more.
Xian Ren stood at the center of it all, his breath steady, his body unscathed.
The skeletal man watched him, unreadable.
Then, he laughed.
"A monster," he whispered. "You are not a man. You are something else entirely."
Xian Ren sheathed his blade.
"I am what this world has made me."
The skeletal man shook his head.
"No. You are what you have chosen to become."
His form began to fade, his presence unraveling.
"I have nothing left to teach you. But take this."
From the darkness, an ancient scroll floated toward Xian Ren.
He caught it.
The moment he touched it, he knew.
A technique.
A forbidden one.
One that no mortal should wield.
Yet, he would.
Because he was no longer mortal.
He had stepped beyond that path the moment he took up the Forsaken Blade.
As the last traces of the skeletal man vanished, his final words echoed in the ruins.
"Go forth, child. And let the heavens tremble."
Xian Ren turned, stepping out of the ruins, the scroll clutched in his hand.
The path was set.
The Iron Vein Sect awaited.
And he would bring them ruin.