A week passed in Floating Cloud City, a week of unnatural, tense silence. The Luo compound, once a symbol of faded glory, now stood as a fortress of grim industry. The sounds of combat drills and the clang of hammers on reforged armor replaced the previous quiet despair. The clansmen, empowered by the Demonic Baptism and hardened by the skirmish at the mine, moved with a purpose that bordered on fanaticism. Their eyes, when they looked towards the main hall where their young master resided, held no doubt, only a terrifying certainty.
Luo Zhen spent these days in seclusion within the ancestral shrine, but his will was felt throughout the compound. Through Luo Bo and Luo Cheng, he directed the absorption of the Liu and Su assets with ruthless efficiency. Spirit stones, pills, and rare materials flowed into the Luo vaults, which were now heavily guarded and warded with crude but effective demonic seals he had devised.
His own cultivation advanced at a slower, more deliberate pace. The Foundation Establishment realm was a vast ocean compared to the pond of Pulse Condensation. The energy required to progress was monstrous. The high-grade spirit stones from the Wang robbery were consumed, their immense power absorbed by his Demonic Foundation, pushing him steadily towards the peak of the first level. He could feel the barrier to the second level—a wall of condensed spiritual law—but breaking through would require a catalyst far greater than passive absorption.
He needed a fight. He needed to devour a powerful Foundation Establishment expert.
His demonic senses, constantly expanded, monitored the city. He felt the simmering fear of the Wang Family, still locked down in their compound. He felt the bitter resignation of the Su, now managing their much-reduced enterprises under the watchful eyes of Luo overseers. And he felt the scheming, oily fear radiating from the City Lord's mansion. Feng Jun thought he was being clever, but his panic was a beacon.
Luo Zhen also kept a specific sense tuned to Su Mei'er. Her energy signature was a fascinating study in contradiction. The fear and hatred were still there, a constant, low-grade hum. But beneath it, something else was growing. A cold resilience. A sharpened edge. She had taken his twisted lesson to heart. He could feel her, during her menial tasks, consciously pulling on her own negative emotions, trying to channel them as he had suggested. She was failing, of course—she lacked the heaven-defying framework of the Nine Profound Heavens Demonic Art—but the effort itself was changing her. Her Violet Mist Art was becoming tinged with a subtle, dark energy, making it more potent, more... predatory.
One afternoon, he summoned her to the main hall. She entered, her posture straight, her eyes meeting his for a fraction of a second before dipping down. She wore the simple grey dress, but she had altered it, taking it in at the seams so it fit her better, and had tied her hair back in a severe, practical knot. The changes were small, but significant. She was adapting.
"You have been practicing," he stated.
She remained silent for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, Master."
"The results are pathetic," he said dismissively. "You are trying to pour a ocean into a teacup. Your meridians and dantian are too weak, your technique too flawed to handle the energy you are trying to harness."
A flicker of frustration crossed her features before she could suppress it. He sensed it, and it pleased him.
"However," he continued, "the intent is... noted. You seek strength. That is the only virtue that matters." He gestured to a small, iron-bound chest in the corner. "Open it."
Hesitantly, she approached and lifted the lid. Inside, on a bed of black velvet, lay a single pill. It was the color of a deep bruise, and it seemed to pulse with a faint, malevolent light. The air around it grew cold.
"This is a Netherbone Pill," Luo Zhen explained. "Forged from the refined essence of the cultivators who fell at the mine, tempered with yin energy. It will shatter your current meridians and forge new, tougher ones capable of handling the power you so desperately crave."
Su Mei'er stared at the pill, a mixture of revulsion and desire warring within her. She knew what it was. It was a thing of evil, born of death and suffering. To consume it would be to accept his path utterly. To become like him.
"It will also be excruciating," he added, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "There is a significant chance it will kill you. The choice is yours. Continue to struggle impotently with your weakling's technique, or take this and embrace true power. You have until tonight to decide."
He turned his back, dismissing her. It was the ultimate test. He was offering her a key to a cage, but the key was made of poison. Would she have the courage, or the desperation, to take it?
Su Mei'er took the chest, her hands trembling slightly, and left the hall. The weight of the pill felt like it was burning through the wood.
Later that day, a different kind of visitor arrived at the Luo compound. Envoy Zhao of the Starlight Pavilion, his grey robes immaculate, presented himself at the gate. He was admitted and found Luo Zhen in the main hall, reviewing scrolls detailing the Su Family's jade mine output.
"Lord Luo," Zhao gave his customary slight bow. "I come with information. As per our... arrangement."
Luo Zhen did not look up from the scroll. "Speak."
"The City Lord has made his move," Zhao said, his voice neutral. "A convoy carrying significant treasures and his daughter, Feng Lian, was sent to the Iron Sword Sect three days ago. It is a gift for Elder He, along with a message describing a demonic cultivator of unprecedented threat residing in Floating Cloud City. They should reach the Iron Sword Sect's outer mountains by tomorrow."
Luo Zhen finally looked up, his crimson-starred eyes boring into Zhao. "And you tell me this why? Does the Starlight Pavilion now side with the prey against the hunter?"
"The Starlight Pavilion sides with stability and profitable outcomes," Zhao corrected smoothly. "A war between a nascent power and the Iron Sword Sect is messy. The outcome is... uncertain. The Pavilion prefers certainties. We are also curious. The information is a gesture of goodwill. How you use it is your concern."
It was a lie, of course. The Starlight Pavilion was playing all sides, hoping to profit from the conflict regardless of the winner. By giving Luo Zhen a warning, they ingratiated themselves to him if he won, and could claim to the Iron Sword Sect that they had tried to warn the "demon" if he lost.
Luo Zhen saw through the deception instantly, but the information was valuable nonetheless. "Your 'goodwill' is noted. You may go."
As Envoy Zhao left, Luo Zhen's mind raced. The Iron Sword Sect. Elder He. This was the catalyst he needed. An Elder of a sect would undoubtedly be in the Foundation Establishment realm, perhaps even the mid or late stages. He was a meal worth waiting for.
He summoned Luo Cheng. "The Iron Sword Sect has been invited to a party," he said, a predatory grin on his face. "We must prepare a worthy welcome. Take our five best men. The ones most eager for blood. We leave for the Serpent's Pass at first light. That is where they will return."
The Serpent's Pass was a narrow, winding gorge two days' travel from the city, the quickest route from the Iron Sword Sect. It was a perfect place for an ambush.
Luo Cheng's eyes gleamed with anticipation. "It will be done, my Lord! How many should we expect?"
"Elder He will not come himself for such a trivial matter," Luo Zhen mused. "He will send his disciples. A show of force to appease the City Lord and collect his... gifts. Perhaps a dozen. Led by a Core Disciple in the Foundation Establishment realm." His grin widened. "The disciples will be the appetizer. Their leader will be the main course."
The plan was set. The stage was being chosen.
As night fell, Luo Zhen found Su Mei'er in her small room. She was sitting on her bed, the iron chest open in her lap. She was staring at the Netherbone Pill, her face pale but set in a look of grim determination. The conflict within her was almost tangible.
Without a word, she looked up at him, then back at the pill. With a sudden, decisive movement, she plucked the pill from the chest and swallowed it.
The effect was instantaneous.
She gasped, her back arching violently. A wave of freezing cold, followed by searing heat, radiated from her dantian. She collapsed onto the floor, writhing in silent agony. Black veins, like cracks in porcelain, spread across her skin from her core. Her Violet Mist energy, pure and light, was being violently torn apart and fused with the pill's malevolent, nether-like power. Her meridians were indeed shattering, the pain unimaginable.
Luo Zhen watched, his arms crossed, his expression one of clinical interest. This was the crucible. Would she break? Or would she be reforged?
Hours passed. Su Mei'er's screams had died down to ragged, painful whimpers. The black veins began to recede, replaced by a new, subtle pallor to her skin, a faint, dark luminescence. Her aura, when it finally stabilized, was completely transformed. It was no longer the gentle Violet Mist Art. It was something colder, sharper, tinged with shadow and a hint of death. She had forcibly advanced to the seventh level of Pulse Condensation, but her energy was now far more potent and volatile than any seventh level had a right to be.
She lay on the floor, breathing heavily, soaked in sweat and her own blood from where her skin had split and healed. She slowly pushed herself up onto her hands and knees, then looked up at Luo Zhen.
Her eyes were different. The fear was still there, but it was now buried under a layer of icy coldness and a hardened, painful resolve. The last of the proud young mistress was gone. In her place was something harder, darker.
"Well?" Luo Zhen asked.
"It... hurts," she rasped, her voice raw.
"Pain is the price of power," he said. "Remember the feeling. Cherish it. It is the fuel that will keep you burning when others turn to ash."
He tossed her a fresh grey robe. "Clean yourself. You will accompany us to the Serpent's Pass at dawn. It is time you saw what true power looks like."
He left her then, lying on the floor of her cell, reborn in agony. The calm was over. The storm was finally arriving, and Luo Zhen intended to be its eye. The hunter was heading to the pass, not to ambush, but to welcome his delivery of nourishment. The Iron Sword Sect was sending disciples to kill a demon.
They were sending lambs to the slaughter