The Shackle
Deep within the gloomy expanse of the Forest of the Dead, where the air was thick with ancient silence and the sun was perpetually swallowed by the canopy, lived a boy named Bai Long (白龙). His life was a study in stark contradictions. His eyes—a deep, earthy hazel—were undeniably human, yet they held a chilling, distant indifference that defied his youth. He was alone, his world delimited by the dense, spectral trees and the single, constant command that haunted his memory.
"Never let that power control you, child. It is destruction, and it is the... shackles I gave you."
His father's last words were an invisible weight, a cold ring around the extraordinary strength that coursed beneath Bai Long's skin. The old man had taught him to harness a pure, luminous internal energy—the White Dragon Qì (白龙之力)—a force of steadfast focus. But beneath that purity, another tide always surged: a destructive, furious energy, forbidden and terrifying.
Bai Long did not know his origins, only his mandate: survive. He had lived like a ghost, mastering the wilderness. Today, he walked a fine line—the forest was behind him; civilization lay ahead. His heart was steady, driven by the simple necessity of survival.
His quest for a human city was barely underway when the stillness was shattered by the sharp, desperate scent of battle.
The Black Mist Demon
He found the conflict unfolding in a small, rock-strewn clearing. A young woman, dressed in the pale blue robes of a spirit master, was cornered. Her name, as he would later learn, was Xiao Ru (萧柔).
Her companion, a magnificent Nine-Tailed Silver Fox spirit beast, was fighting valiantly, weaving intricate illusions of fire and ice to confuse the enemy. But the enemy was overwhelming: a monstrous entity of swirling, palpable darkness—the Black Mist Demon (黑雾妖). It was a vortex of malice, its shape fluid and terrifying, impervious to Xiao Ru's spiritual attacks.
The Demon let out a hideous, grating roar that seemed to pull the light from the air. The Silver Fox recoiled, its beautiful illusions flickering and dying. The Black Mist Demon advanced, its dark tendrils unfurling to envelop its prey. Xiao Ru stumbled, the look in her eyes shifting from fierce defiance to sudden, paralyzing fear.
The Crimson Force
Bai Long did not hesitate. This was not a moment for strategy or caution. Survival, for him, demanded action.
He didn't call for a spirit beast—he had none. He reached instead for the rough leather gloves tucked into his belt and pulled them onto his hands.
It was a ritual of permission.
The instant the leather covered his skin, the dam within him broke. The familiar, comforting surge of the White Dragon Qì ignited, flooding his limbs with pure, focused power. But this time, driven by the urgency of the moment, the forbidden power merged with it.
A strange, mesmerizing glow erupted from him, a violent marriage of energies: the cold white purity of the Dragon Qì entwined with a dark, crimson light—the mark of the Bloodline Force. The tattoo on his forearm, usually dormant, pulsed and deepened to the color of fresh blood.
His eyes narrowed to slits of focused intent. He was no longer just Bai Long. He was the unstable union of two worlds.
"Hooooooooo—!"
With a terrifying, inhuman roar that eclipsed the Demon's own shriek, Bai Long lunged. His movements were a blur of impossible speed. He did not dodge or parry; he simply struck, his fist encased in the blinding, dual-colored power.
The blow landed with the force of a falling meteor. The Black Mist Demon, a creature of malice and shadow, didn't even have time to register pain or utter a final shriek. It was simply erased—pulverized into fragments of black vapor that dissipated instantly on the wind.
Silence fell, absolute and suffocating.
Bai Long stood over the spot where the Demon had been. His breath hitched as the incredible, crimson light quickly receded, leaving only the dull, white glow of the controlled Qì, which too soon faded back beneath his skin. The terrifying blood-red tattoo on his arm dissolved until it was invisible once more.
Xiao Ru slowly lowered her guard, her spirit fox shaking beside her. She gazed at the youth, her mind reeling. He was a paradox. He had saved her life with a single strike, yet the power he wielded was unlike anything taught in the Human Realm's academies. It was potent, destructive, and contained a chilling echo of the very darkness she fought.
She looked from the spot of annihilation back to the boy, who now appeared utterly human again, save for the dangerous intensity in his hazel eyes. He was the carrier of a terrifying secret—the power of two worlds flowing through one vein.