(3) Chains of the Forgotten

Wang Zhu stepped deeper inside and noticed an altar embedded in the stone wall, shrouded in a mist of red energy.

A black, gourd-shaped water bottle stood at its center, wrapped in chains and sealed with a talisman. 

She moved closer, crouched down, and studied the talisman carefully. Her eyes narrowed as she realized it wasn't made of paper—but human skin.

Her breath caught, and a chill ran down her spine. Yet, rather than fear, the discovery only deepened her intrigue. 

What kind of demon resided in such a place? And what had it sealed within this gourd?

Her heartbeat quickened. She needed to know. 

Straightening, she closed her eyes and focused, blocking out unnecessary noise. She relaxed her muscles and directed her senses entirely toward the gourd.

Immediately, a hoarse, desperate voice echoed in her mind—the voice of a boy, pleading for help. 

Wang Zhu's eyes snapped open.

A boy. 

A surge of adrenaline flooded her veins, sharp and urgent. Her pulse pounded in her ears, and her instincts screamed for action. 

Without hesitation, she unsheathed her sword and swung with all her strength, desperation fueling her movements. Her blade sliced through the air, aimed directly at the altar. 

But to her utter disbelief, the stone structure remained unscathed. The gourd remained untouched, as though protected by an invisible force. 

Her chest tightened with frustration.

Gritting her teeth, Wang Zhu approached the talisman again, irritation evident in her gaze. She examined it for several minutes, trying to recall its specific type.

As she did, the boy's voice echoed in her mind once more—this time groaning in pain as he called out a name. 

The urgency in his voice sent another jolt of impatience through her. She struggled to place the talisman, but then, as if struck by sudden realization, her eyes widened.

No wonder she hadn't recognized it immediately. 

The talisman wasn't meant to seal the gourd at all—it was a decoy, meant to mislead anyone trying to free the captive inside. 

Wang Zhu smirked.

This demon was quite the mischievous trickster. 

The true barrier protecting the altar and the gourd was a primitive yet effective form of dark magic.

To break it, the prisoner had to loudly announce their name while someone on the outside infused the altar with a small amount of blood imbued with spiritual energy. 

She knew this well.

Many demons used such tricks to capture and devour humans who lacked the gift of cultivation.

The only reason she had trouble recognizing it at first was the way it had been arranged—its structure and placement differed from the usual patterns.

A chuckle escaped her lips, but there was no joy in it. Only amusement, mixed with irritation.

After years of night-hunting missions, she had encountered and defeated countless demons—but never one this clever.

Wasting no more time, she straightened, closed her eyes, and channeled her voice into the gourd with a controlled pulse of her spiritual energy.

"Your name. Tell me your name."

Inside the gourd, the boy gasped upon hearing her voice. His fatigued face brightened with a flicker of hope.

Summoning the last of his strength, he shouted,

"Zui!" 

The moment she heard his name, Wang Zhu bit her right thumb and smeared her blood onto the altar.

The stone trembled. The gourd shattered in a burst of golden light, dissolving into dust, along with the chains and talisman.

A small green light emerged from the remnants and drifted a few steps away before solidifying into the form of an unconscious, malnourished boy.

He looked no older than seven, with short, disheveled orange-brown hair and a tattered sackcloth hanging loosely off his frail frame.

Wang Zhu stepped closer, her sharp gaze scanning him. Bruises and fresh cuts marred his neck, wrists, and palms. 

But something else caught her attention.

Dark energy clung to his body—an unmistakable trait of demons.

And yet… she hadn't sensed any trace of demonic energy within the gourd earlier.

Could this boy truly be a demon? The lingering energy around him suggested as much.

Wang Zhu's brows furrowed.

A demon imprisoning another demon? 

What kind of evolution was this?

As she contemplated, the young boy slowly opened his eyes. Instinctively, she took a step back, her expression unreadable.

Zui blinked, his vision clearing. Then, as if some horrifying memory resurfaced, he scrambled to his feet, his face drained of color. 

"I'm still here," he whispered, his voice trembling.

His wide eyes darted around in panic before landing on Wang Zhu, silently pleading for urgency.

"So, it was you… the one who freed me," he said breathlessly.

"Quick! We need to leave! The demon who captured me—he must have realized the seal is broken by now. He'll be here soon! If he finds us, we won't stand a chance. He's too powerful!"

But Wang Zhu remained motionless.

Zui's face twisted in confusion.

"Why aren't you moving?"

She met his gaze, her voice eerily calm. 

"I must kill it." 

The young demon stared at her in disbelief. 

She hadn't understood him at all. 

He had just told her that the demon was far more powerful than them, what part of that did she not grasp?

Is she truly a cultivator? How could she be so… slow?

Frustration flared in his eyes.

"My elder sister was right. You cultivators are absolute fools!"

Before Wang Zhu could react, Zui's small body dissolved into an invisible whirlwind.

The wind surged around her, lifting her off the ground with startling force.

She had no time to resist.

In a blink, the young demon swept her away from the alley—leaving her no choice but to follow his escape.