**Chapter 1 – Crimson Awakening**
In the deepest, darkest fold of the Black-Corner Region—where even the wind tasted of rust and fear—the Blood Sect fortress squatted like a wound in the earth.
Black basalt walls veined with blood-jade drank in what little moonlight slipped through the perpetual haze. Inside the most protected wing, reserved exclusively for the sect leader's bloodline, a single opulent chamber waited.
Polished ebony tables and carved rosewood screens gleamed under low-hanging spirit lanterns. Scarlet silk cascaded from the massive four-poster bed. On the far wall hung a tall mirror framed in polished thigh bones, its surface impossibly flawless.
A young man lay motionless across blood-red sheets.
His breathing hitched.
Long grey hair fanned across the pillow like strands of molten silver.
Then his eyes flew open.
Crimson pupils contracted violently against bruised-violet sclera.
He lurched upright, hands flying to his temples as a torrent of alien memories slammed into him.
Fan Ling.
Seventeen.
Only son of Fan Lao—fifth-ranked powerhouse on the Black Ranking.
Dou Ling, two stars.
Young master and undisputed heir of the Blood Sect.
In the original story… fated to be reduced to ash and screams when a certain black-robed alchemist decided the sect possessed something worth taking.
Xiao Yan.
The future Flame Emperor.
The name alone sent ice through veins that weren't entirely his anymore.
He staggered to his feet, crossed the room on unsteady legs, and stopped in front of the mirror.
The reflection staring back was pale and predatory: razor-sharp cheekbones, thin lips the color of fresh blood, long silver-grey lashes framing eyes that glowed like dying embers. He looked carved from moonlight and murder—more aristocratic night-creature than mortal cultivator.
"…At least I'm pretty," he muttered, voice rough from disuse. "Could've been worse."
He flexed his right hand.
A ribbon of dark-crimson Dou Qi slithered around his fingers like living blood.
Blood Demon Hand.
Great Blood Bodhisattva Devourer.
Two high grade techniques already fused into flesh and bone. Years of sect resources had not been squandered on this body.
If he kept his head down, avoided trouble, he could live like royalty for decades in this lawless land.
But keeping his head down meant dying the day Xiao Yan came calling.
Fan Ling—no, the soul now wearing Fan Ling's skin—narrowed his eyes at his reflection.
"Not happening."
He was still forcing the new limbs to obey when golden text abruptly ignited in his vision.
[DING!]
[Congratulations, Host! The Wealthy System has successfully bound!]
[You may now purchase anything from the store using Gold Coins.]
[Current Balance: 1,200,000 Gold Coins]
A semi-transparent panel unfolded like a forbidden catalog.
Name: Fan Ling
Age: 17
Cultivation: Dou Ling – 2 Star
Techniques:
• Blood Demon Hand
• Great Blood Bodhisattva Devourer
Wealth: 1,200,000 Gold Coins
He mentally selected STORE.
The list that appeared nearly stopped his heart.
[Six Eyes] – 1,000,000,000 Gold Coins
[Rinnegan (Nagato base)] – 90,000,000 Gold Coins
[Tenseigan] – 95,000,000 Gold Coins
[Mangekyou Sharingan – Itachi Version] – 20,000,000 Gold Coins
[Mangekyou Sharingan – Obito Version] – 60,000,000 Gold Coins
[Sage Mode (Toad)] – 80,000,000 Gold Coins
[Chakra Fruit (Immature)] – 2,500,000,000 Gold Coins
[Imperial Grade Embryo Pill] – 2,000,000,000 Gold Coins
[Magneto X-Gene (Omega Potential)] – 1,000,000,000 Gold Coins
[Gungnir (Odin's Spear – Divine Replica)] – 1,100,000,000 Gold Coins
[Destroyer Armor (Asgardian)] – 1,000,000,000 Gold Coins
…and countless more, each priced like a small kingdom.
Fan Ling stared at the obscene numbers.
Then at his laughable 1.2 million.
Then back again.
He let out a short, disbelieving laugh.
"Even with a Dou Huang father and an entire sect bleeding the region dry… I'm still dirt-poor."
The treasures that could rewrite destiny hung just beyond reach, taunting him with zeros.
He clenched his jaw until it ached.
"Fine."
Ambition ignited behind his eyes.
"I'll just have to get filthy rich. Fast."
He already knew his opening move.
Fan Lao kept the sect's liquid reserves under strict personal control, but the man had always doted on his only son. A display of maturity, a spark of real ambition, a promise of exponential returns… it might be enough to pry open the treasury doors.
And if sweet words failed?
This was the Black-Corner Region.
Everything had a price—even a father's indulgence.
Fan Ling smoothed his grey hair, straightened the blood-embroidered robes, rolled his shoulders until the last stiffness of possession vanished.
The body answered him perfectly now.
He walked to the door.
The crimson corridors of the Blood Sect opened before him like arteries.
Somewhere far away in the region, a young man named Xiao Yan was only just beginning to rise.
Fan Ling's thin smile was cold and certain.
"Let's see who ends up as ashes this time."