Kaelan remains in the cell, his form faint and unmoving, but his spirit spreads through the air like drifting smoke. His senses reach the governor's hall, where Lin Zian's trial unfolds.
It is the most unjust hearing he has ever witnessed.
The boy, barely conscious at the start, wakes midway through, only to find his fate already sealed.
Words twist into weapons, accusations pile without proof, and the decision comes as swiftly as a blade—execution by hanging, one week before the new year.
Kaelan feels the tremor in Lin Zian's spirit when the verdict is read.
The boy doesn't fight or cry out.
He just stares at the man standing across the court—his senior brother.
The same one whose life he once saved. Betrayal burns deeper than any wound, and Lin Zian freezes, unable to speak as the guards drag him away.
The cell they throw him into is colder, darker, meant for criminals beyond redemption.
When the court disperses, Kaelan withdraws his spirit sense and opens his eyes.
The faint lines on the walls still hum with traces of dark elemental law.
He comprehends them one last time, the meaning settling in his heart like ink on parchment.
Then he stands, his form fading into mist, and leaves through the hole.
Outside, dawn has yet to rise. The town sleeps under a dim moon. Kaelan glides through shadows until he reaches a secluded stretch of forest behind the guardhouse.
There, he lands softly, transforms into human form, adjusts his breathing, and begins cultivating the martial art technique he created.
In human territory, he will need to fight and possess an identity that allows him to travel freely through the eight kingdoms and even the Silver Treasure House's vast domain.
Nothing suits this purpose better than the identity of a wandering martial artist—a seeker of inspiration striving to create the next realm beyond the Supreme Master Realm.
He avoids calling it the Ultimate Realm, for that is not a cultivation realm but a state of being.
Drawing from every martial art technique he has devised, he forges a new creation—the Supreme Martial Art, the *Dark Void Technique.*
Though the technique bears no true knowledge of the Void, it is his **bridge**—a foundation that connects mortal comprehension to divine creation.
With his physique tempered by the second stage, Kaelan advances swiftly.
Within mere months, he reaches the peak of the Supreme Martial Art Realm.
Yet the process is slow by his standards, hindered by his still-incomplete understanding of the Law of Darkness.
Reaching the Supreme Realm brings him no surge in strength, but something far more vital—it cleanses most of the demonic aura clinging to his body, leaving only faint traces that even the keenest spiritual senses would struggle to detect.
And even if someone did, they would merely assume he carried demon blood, not that he was a demon himself.
He also discovers that the martial art cultivation system is compatible with his wizard cultivation system.
That is why he only taught Lin Zian the meditation technique, withholding the method for forming mana or casting spells.
There was another reason as well—Lin Zian is not like him. With the spirit strength of a Stage Two being, Kaelan could form mana effortlessly, while Lin Zian, though possessing a spirit stronger than an ordinary mortal, would struggle immensely.
Thus, he limited Lin Zian's path to meditation alone. Had the boy not entered the martial school, Kaelan would have made him practise a martial art technique.
And now, for Kaelan himself, his goal is to forge a martial art that will allow him to comprehend the power of heaven and earth—and ascend as the ultimate martial artist.
He finishes adjusting his breath, draws his sword, and channels mana into the blade.
The air ripples faintly as he performs the sequence of movements from his newly created Dark Slash technique.
Hours pass. His strikes grow sharper, his flow more refined—but the response from heaven and earth never comes.
He stops, exhales softly, and sheathes his sword. With a single leap, he lands on a sturdy tree branch and sits, gazing into the distant sky.
He wonders if his approach is flawed.
Perhaps he should change his method of sensing the power of heaven and earth.
There is another path—mastering a great magic power completely can also awaken one's perception of that force.
He already possesses two dark-elemental Great Magic Powers: Dark Sinking and Dark Seal.
Completely mastering them would be far easier for him than reaching that comprehension through martial skill alone.
After all, he has long realised his true talent lies in understanding and mastering spells and magic powers, not martial arts.
Kaelan comes out of his reverie as a sharp caw cuts through the air. He glances sideways and spots the black crow that he had assigned to watch over Lin Zian's sister.
He had given that order because those blessed by the world often bring misfortune to their families—a natural balance of fate.
So, as a small repayment for letting Lin Zian practice his cultivation system, Kaelan had decided to ensure the girl's safety.
He narrows his eyes. "Why are you here," he asks, "and not with the little girl?"
The crow caws repeatedly, its cries urgent. Through the creature's fragmented memories, Kaelan sees what it saw—Lin Zian's sister being taken away by a woman.
Recognition flashes in his eyes. The woman is the noble lady whose portrait Lin Zian painted at the White Lotus Pavilion.
Kaelan's gaze hardens slightly. "Continue to watch her," he commands.
The crow caws once more and takes flight into the night.
Kaelan leans back against the trunk, thoughtful. A faint smile touches his lips. He has a feeling he knows why that noble lady took the girl.
He had already detected that Lin Zian's sister, Lin Xue, possessed a rare dual spiritual root of yin and ice.
Her constant sickness stemmed from this very gift—her frail body unable to bear the natural intrusion of those two energies.
Since she had never refined them, the yin and ice energy remained dormant yet ever-growing within her, gradually accumulating until it manifested as cold bone disease.
The noble lady must have discovered Lin Xue's unique spiritual roots.
Kaelan feels no concern for the girl's safety. The woman who took her is also one blessed by heaven and earth. Her blessing is lesser than Lin Zian's, yet still remarkable compared to ordinary mortals.
If the world were a story written by fate, then Lin Zian would be its destined Male Protagonist—and she, the Female Protagonist—two stars bound to converge by the world's design.
With that thought, Kaelan lets the matter drift from his mind and turns his focus toward a grander task—the creation of the next realm for martial artists.
---
Lin Zian opens his eyes, determination burning within them. He whispers to himself, "I cannot die. I have to find a way to escape. I can't leave my sister alone."
He knows too well—without him, his sister will die from her illness. He must find a way out.
He stands and inspects every corner of the cell, but finds no gap, no weakness, no hope of breaking free.
A rough voice from the opposite cell breaks the silence. "Hey, boy!"
Lin Zian glances over. A burly man with a scarred face and the air of a gangster leans against the bars, studying him. "What did you do to get locked up?"
"Nothing," Lin Zian replies flatly.
The man raises an eyebrow. "If you didn't do anything, then why are you here?"
Lin Zian hesitates, then says quietly, "I'm… unfortunate."
The burly man smirks. "Bad luck," he mutters, and sprawls back on his cot.
Lin Zian, still finding no path of escape, sits on the cold stone bed and begins to think.
The only way he can escape is through strength.
As a third-grade martial artist with the added foundation of a mid-level wizard apprentice, his strength is comparable to a second-grade martial artist—but nowhere near enough.
To break out, he'd need the power of a master realm.
Three days. It's impossible.
A wave of sadness settles over him.
He stays motionless, lost in thought, until footsteps echo in the corridor.
A guard pushing a trolley of food and water stops before his cell.
The man peers in, eyes widening. "Where did he go?" he shouts.
Another guard hurries over. "What do you mean?"
The first guard points at Lin Zian's cell. "The boy! He's gone!"
They turn to the opposite cell. "Hey, where did that kid go?"
The burly man squints through the bars, frowning. "He was there a moment ago."
Lin Zian blinks, confused. "I'm right here."
The guard spins around and finally spots him sitting by the wall on his bed. "Oh! There you are. Come here and take your food."
Puzzled, Lin Zian steps forward, taking the plate and cup through the gap.
He notices both the guard and the burly man staring at him oddly before the guard moves on.
He sits back down, frowning. *Did they really not see me… or were they joking?*
He looks toward the burly man. "Were you joking, or could you really not see me?"
The man shrugs between mouthfuls of food. "Didn't see you."
A spark flickers in Lin Zian's mind.
If they couldn't see him just now… then maybe—just maybe—this could be his way out.
Far away, Kaelan pauses mid-swing, the dark energy swirling around his blade fading.
Through his spirit sense, he observes Lin Zian's cell.
He watches as the boy's Qi subtly shifts, blending with the dark elemental energy lingering in his body.
Without guidance, Lin Zian has stumbled upon a path few could ever find—the way to transform Qi so it can interact with spells.
Once the transformation completes, it will not yet become true mana, but something in between—half Qi, half mana.
When Lin Zian breaks through to Stage One, whether by the martial or wizard path, the transformation will be complete.
Kaelan's eyes narrow with faint amusement as he sees Lin Zian step into the shadowed corner of the cell. His aura vanishes entirely. When he moves into the moonlight, it flickers back to life.
"So, that's how you plan to escape," Kaelan murmurs. He folds his arms, a hint of approval in his gaze. "Not bad for a mortal-born child."
But Lin Zian is not the only one plotting. Others, too, prepare their moves.
Through his crow's eyes, Kaelan learns of the noble lady—the same woman who took Lin Zian's sister.
She had promised to free Lin Zian from prison, but not out of mercy.
To bind both siblings to her service, she intends to make Lin Zian "die" to the world and live only for her.
Hidden beneath her veil of nobility is the identity of a princess of the Tang Kingdom. With a single command, she could save him lawfully, yet she chooses deception instead.
Her plan is set: during the execution, when the wooden platform opens, Lin Zian will not fall into death, but into the hollow space below, where her people wait to catch him.
His neck will remain unbroken, his body hidden from the crowd. From that day onward, Lin Zian will be declared dead—and reborn as her loyal servant.
But fate rarely honours the plans of mortals.
The day before the hanging, both Lin Zian's desperate hope and the princess's careful scheme crumble to dust.
From the treetop, Kaelan watches as masked men surround the prison under the cover of night.
With a sharp whistle, they move—swift, silent, and deadly.
The outer guards fall first, cut down before they can raise an alarm.
Kaelan's spirit senses the imbalance of power and mutters inwardly, "The prison guards are weaker than noble guards."
In this world, the first three realms of martial arts can be reached by wasting resources alone, and so most noble guards are at the first stage.
Yet few ever step beyond, for true mastery requires skill, not just wealth.
Kaelan's spirit remains locked on Lin Zian. In the darkness of his cell, Lin Zian presses his body against the wall, hiding as chaos erupts outside.
Chains clatter, prisoners shout, and one by one, cell doors creak open. Every prisoner but Lin Zian leaves the cell, vanishing into the night.
Kaelan believes Lin Zian will remain unnoticed, planning to escape after the attackers withdraw.
But something feels wrong. The air thickens—the flow of fate shifts. Kaelan senses the world itself nudging events, guiding them toward Lin Zian.
The leader of the raiders, a grand martial artist, steps into the corridor.
His eyes sweep the cells, sharp as blades.
He almost walks past—until he notices the empty food plate in Lin Zian's cell. He stops, frowning, then peers closer.
The faintest shimmer in the shadows betrays Lin Zian's presence.
The cell door bursts open. Lin Zian is dragged out, still struggling to understand how he was seen.
His concealment could deceive any first-stage transcend, but not one who looks with intent.
After all, he is still mortal.
Kaelan follows them through the forest as they vanish into the night.
At dawn, Lin Zian lies bound in a dim cave.
The leader forces a vial between his lips.
The liquid burns his throat, and a cold fire spreads through his veins.
"From now on," the man says, voice low, "you belong to us."
The next day, Lin Zian begins his training in the way of the assassin—his freedom replaced by a poison's leash.
In just a month, Lin Zian has mastered everything the assassins can teach.
His movements grow silent as smoke, his strikes precise as thought.
Blessed by the world, his progress defies reason—where others need years, he needs only weeks.
The leader of the assassins takes him personally before their true master, Prince Liang.
Prince Liang, brother to the Tang king, watches Lin Zian kneel with lowered head. His eyes gleam coldly under the torchlight.
He sees in the young man a tool forged by fate itself. Resentment burns in his chest, the wound of losing the throne to his younger brother still festering.
In secret, he gathers men, arms, and shadows—each piece placed carefully toward rebellion.
To test Lin Zian, the prince assigns him a mission.
Alone, he is to assassinate a merchant allied with the royal faction.
Night falls. Lin Zian steps through the darkness as if it were part of him.
The blade moves once—clean, soundless.
The merchant collapses without a breath escaping his lips.
When dawn comes, Lin Zian is already back at the base, his clothes unmarked, his eyes colder than before.
Days later, when patrols grow lazy and the others rest, Lin Zian slips away into the night.
His heart pulls him home.
He reaches his town only to find the house empty.
Dust covers the doorway, and a single letter lies on the table.
His sister writes that she has gone to the Shi Kingdom.
Her sickness, caused by the spiritual root within her, could only be treated by the Mirror Lake Gate's technique.
Her words end with hope—that he will come to her as soon as possible.
And not to worry about her as an elder sister taking care of her.
Freedom. Lin Zian looks down at the mark on his wrist—the faint burn left by the poison's touch.
To live, he must take the antidote every month.
The Shi Kingdom lies far beyond Tang's borders; he could never reach it in time.
He wants to take revenge against his senior brother Liu Ming, but if he doesn't return before dawn, he will be caught.
So, he vows that he will return for revenge.
For the first time in life, he hated someone so much because his situation was all caused by Liu Ming.
He didn't kill the bullies that robbed his money after he gained strength, but he will torture his senior brother Liu Ming to death.
He returns to the assassin base before dawn.
Lying on his narrow bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, Lin Zian whispers to the darkness, "I know they will never let me free of the poison. So I have to find the antidote myself."
He closes his eyes and lets his spirit flow through his veins.
Within his body, he senses the faint pulse of something foreign—an aura cold and sharp, threading through his blood.
Yet he cannot tell what it is made of.
His lack of knowledge of potions blinds him.
He opens his eyes and mutters, "I have to learn about potions."
A knock sounds at his door.
He straightens, masking his thoughts, and joins the other assassins for training.
The drills are harsh, the movements deadly precise.
When the session ends, his instructor stops him and hands him a thin, red-bound book.
"Your reward," the man says, voice calm but eyes unreadable.
Lin Zian takes the book and returns to his room.
The title carved on the cover reads *Blood God Technique.* Opening it, he scans the first page. It claims that one who practices it can reach the martial master realm in a single year.
He scoffs softly. "Impossible."
But as he reads on, his expression tightens.
The book's logic holds—cultivation through burning blood and vitality, turning them into a dense blood energy that fuels power.
The catch: after reaching mastery, life lasts only five years.
Few succeed because most die before reaching that point, unable to sense when to stop before their blood burns away completely.
Lin Zian closes the book slowly. His eyes harden.
He begins practising the technique that same night.
He has no choice—without strength, he will never escape.
Even if he finds an antidote, he needs power to seize his freedom.
Besides, as a wizard apprentice, his spirit is already awakened.
He can enter introspection and watch the changes within his body, something most martial artists cannot.
He also believes he can overcome the technique's curse.
During assassin training, he was injured daily and healed by absorbing spiritual energy.
That same process, he thinks, can replenish the blood and vitality the technique consumes.
Under the faint glow of the lantern, Lin Zian sits cross-legged, breath slowing as his blood stirs—so begins the first step toward power and death, silent in the dark.
Within an hour, he breaks through to second grade; it is not solely the Blood God technique—his Qi had already swelled from absorbing dark elemental energy, and even without the book, he would have reached second grade within a week.
He continues but stops after burning twenty per cent of his vitality, feeling powerful and hollow at once as his skin loses its shine.
Sliding into introspection, he examines the damage the technique has inflicted and thinks, If spiritual energy cannot heal this, I will not practice this again.
With difficulty and sweat beading on his brow, he summons a wisp of spiritual energy and forces it to circulate through his Qi.
He peers inward again and watches the spiritual energy fall like rain on a desert—some effect, but not nearly enough; a single wisp cannot mend what the Blood God technique consumes.
He calculates silently: he needs at least a hundred wisps to recover, and at his current speed, a wisp takes hours to draw—at this pace, he would need a month to heal, and that month means no more blood-burning practice.
To speed recovery, he must strengthen his spirit, so he closes his eyes and practices the Crow Meditation, tracing the thirty-first rune to force his spirit to widen and pull in spiritual energy faster.
The next day at training, the instructor inspects him and orders that he must not practice the Blood God technique for more than fifteen ticks at a time and must refrain entirely for the next seven moons so his body can mend.
Lin Zian had thought the organisation had trained them to be tools. " Very likely, he doesn't want the tool to break quickly."
A week later, he receives another mission—assassinate a gang leader in a remote town—and without questioning orders, he takes a heavy twenty-five-stone bow, dozens of arrows, mounts a horse, and rides from the base toward the town.