Chapter 55 – The Mark of Ruin
Demon Xu stood at the head of the ritual platform like a monarch seated upon a throne made of rot and stolen power. His laughter was low and pleased, a sound that oozed across the stone floor like dark oil. His gaze roamed over the unconscious boy laid across the altar, mouth curling into a grin that reeked of triumph.
"Ah," he exhaled, almost reverently, "to think the Demon Lord waged war for a treasure hidden inside this delicate frame all along."
He raised his hand, and Xinyu's limp body lifted effortlessly by an invisible force, flung through the air like a feather on a current of corrupted devil qi. The boy landed with a soft thud onto the ritual table at the center, his robes splayed open slightly, revealing skin pale as snow and just as cold. The jagged mark at his neck glimmered faintly, like a secret buried in centuries of blood.
Beside him, the pipa girl—his adopted daughter—rose from her knees and looked down at Xinyu as if he were the most precious offering.
"You've done well," Demon Xu said, stroking her head fondly. "You've brought me a gift even your mother couldn't have dreamed of—something to make me a god."
He circled the table with slow, deliberate steps, eyes narrowed as they bore into the glowing mark. When his fingers brushed it, the air turned heavy, as if the entire cave held its breath.
"Guards!" he barked. "Prepare the bath."
The girl nodded, lips curling into a satisfied smile. She bent over the unconscious boy, hands delicate as she slid his outer robe from his shoulders. Steam rose from the iron cauldron as the guards poured in qi-infused water, and gently, like one handling a porcelain doll, she lowered Xinyu into the basin.
Demon Xu stood tall before the bubbling water, voice thick with malice. "Once the seal is extracted, I'll drain him dry and offer his shattered spirit to the void. Let his death honor my ascent."
The girl, pouting slightly, trailed her fingers across Xinyu's cheek. "Yifu… can't I keep him? He's too pretty to waste."
A deep laugh shook the stone walls. "You like his face that much?" Demon Xu teased, eyebrows raised. "Fine. You can have what's left after I'm done. Prison or plaything—it matters little."
In the shadows nearby, Mochen stirred. Blood crusted the corner of his lips, his limbs heavy and torn by poison, but he heard every word. The boiling in his veins was not from fever—it was rage. His clenched fists trembled until blood seeped between his fingers, red rivulets crawling down his wrists.
Xinyu stirred in the water, brow furrowed in pain. Demon Xu had begun the extraction. His devil qi slithered like venom into the youth's body, coiling around the mark and pulling with unseen hands.
Xinyu groaned—a sound like porcelain cracking. The girl leaned down and gently patted his cheek, her affection grotesquely gentle.
Mochen's fury made his vision blur. Still he waited, like a predator biding time for the kill.
Then—it failed.
The mark, instead of yielding, flared. Light burst from it, searing the shadows and pushing back the dark qi like a tide.
Demon Xu staggered. "What—? Why is it resisting?"
He tried again. Xinyu arched in pain. The girl pressed trembling fingers to his wrist. "He's still breathing," she murmured, relieved. "Yifu, again—please—"
At last, the mark yielded.
Xinyu's body convulsed.
And then, a voice echoed through the chamber, cold as the edge of a blade, heavy as falling thunder.
"Take your filthy hands off him."
Demon Xu's breath caught. He turned.
A young man stood at the threshold of the chamber, robes fluttering in the dark wind that had followed him in. His hair gleamed like black fire, and his eyes—oh, those eyes—burned crimson, aflame with killing intent.
"Ah, the prince," Demon Xu mocked, his lips curling. "Lord Hua's little heir. Did Daddy finally let you off your leash?"
He stepped forward, clapping. "Truly, Hua Ling. You wear your father's arrogance well."
Hua Ling's silence was sharper than a blade. His gaze never wavered from Xinyu.
"You're just like him, aren't you?" Demon Xu sneered. "Fame-chasing, power-hungry. Your father never cared for anything but his own name carved into history. He let his son rot just to chase glory. I'm sure you've come for the mark. You want to take him to your father too, don't you?"
That was the final blow.
Hua Ling lunged.
They clashed mid-air, lightning crackling around them. The cave groaned beneath their fury. Blasts of qi sent stone and flame flying. Demon Xu laughed even as he bled.
Mochen, unnoticed, rose from where he'd been collapsed. His body screamed in protest, but he stumbled toward the water basin where Xinyu floated weakly. The girl stood beside it, her pipa in hand.
"Hands off," Mochen growled.
She smiled sweetly and struck her pipa.
Notes sharp as knives split the air, but Mochen dodged them, charging in with a strike of blinding speed. She fell back, then rose again, her power swelling. She soared into the air, the pipa glowing ominously. When she played this time, the sound was no longer music—it was a curse. Mochen was blown backward.
At the basin, Xinyu stirred again, vision swimming. His lips were pale, but he forced them open.
"…Dianxia…"
The girl squealed with delight. "Oh! He's awake!"
She threw her arms around him. Xinyu, weak and shivering, struggled, but she clung tightly.
On the battlefield, Demon Xu landed a blow. Hua Ling's shoulder tore, blood painting his sleeve. Xinyu watched with wide, horror-stricken eyes.
Mochen, staggering, rose again and struck the girl, sending her flying. He fell beside Xinyu, breathing heavily.
"Yu'ge, are you alright?"
"I… I'm fine," Xinyu rasped. "Help Dianxia… please…"
Mochen wrapped him in a robe, though his chest remained exposed. Nodding grimly, he returned to the battle.
Now, two against one, the tide began to turn.
Demon Xu laughed, mocking even as he bled. "Is this a lovers' reunion?" he sneered. "Don't be so hasty. This boy's already mine."
He surged forward and seized Xinyu, dragging him close with a tendril of dark qi.
"Touch him, and he dies."
Time stopped.
Hua Ling's hands trembled. Mochen froze.
The mark at Xinyu's neck glowed fiercely now. Demon Xu began the extraction again, fingers pressed tight.
"Dianxia…" Xinyu's voice was hoarse but firm. "Don't… don't obey him. Kill him. Now."
Demon Xu sneered, "Try, and he dies—"
But he didn't see it.
A thin thread of silver light—so fine it was nearly invisible—connected Hua Ling's fingertip to Demon Xu's throat.
The thread tightened.
With a snap, Demon Xu was yanked from the altar like a puppet with cut strings.
Hua Ling's hand closed.
Demon Xu screamed. His throat collapsed beneath the crushing grip of qi. His bones snapped; his breath turned to fire in his lungs. Then—
Silence.
He crumbled into ash.
The girl dropped to her knees, wild-eyed. "No… Yifu… no! You can't—"
Her screams turned incoherent. She clawed at her own face and fainted.
Xinyu swayed.
Hua Ling was there in a flash, catching him in his arms. Mochen rushed forward too, hand outstretched—but Hua Ling was faster.
Mochen clenched his fist.
The cave began to collapse.
Without pause, Hua Ling turned, robes fluttering like storm clouds, and bolted toward the exit. Mochen followed behind, the girl slung unconscious over his shoulder like dead weight.
They burst into daylight just as the cave gave its final roar and fell in on itself.
And then—at last—there was silence.