The middle-aged man's eyes were hollow and unfocused, drifting like a wandering soul untethered from the mortal realm. Rain soaked through his thin garments, clinging coldly to his skin and outlining a figure steeped in desolation and helpless grief.
Suddenly, a muffled bell tolled, shattering the stillness of the storm-laden dusk and rousing him from his daze.
He slowly lifted his head. Before him stood a dilapidated church, its cross crooked, its walls scarred by wind and time, yet faintly solemn beneath the curtain of rain.
He hesitated only a breath before stepping forward. With trembling hands, he pushed open the heavy wooden doors and entered.
The instant he crossed the threshold, a chill brushed his spine. Within the dim hall, a brand-new and luxurious confessional stood in stark contrast to the church's decay. Its polished surface gleamed in the candlelight, and its open door seemed to extend a silent invitation.
As though possessed, he walked toward it.
The moment he sat down, the confessional door slammed shut with a dull "bang."
His heart lurched violently. A sudden dread surged from the depths of his chest.
"I will listen to your troubles. Speak."
The voice that drifted from the adjoining chamber was lazy, with faint impatience.
The man froze.
He had clearly seen both compartments were empty.
"Are… are you a God?" His voice trembled with barely restrained agitation. He gripped the wooden partition tightly. "Please tell me, what should I do to avenge my daughter?"
"Those demons violated her… forced her to take her own life." His breathing grew ragged. "It was my incompetence that made her work as a tutor to earn more money. It was my incompetence that I only learned of everything she endured from her diary after she passed away."
Each word carried endless remorse and self-reproach.
"They said the diary wasn't enough evidence. They said it was a crime committed by a minor who didn't know any better. They advised me to take compensation and let it go." His voice rose, shaking with fury. "But I know that minor wasn't the mastermind. The real culprits are those evil demons. They exploited loopholes meant to protect minors and deliberately pushed all the blame onto that child!"
"God, please tell me what to do? The court hearing is the day after tomorrow. I have no evidence. I cannot let those demons go so easily!"
He pounded the table in anguish. Wood splintered beneath his fist. His palm split open, and blood dripped onto the floorboards.
In the adjacent chamber, Ye Ming's gaze rested upon a Demonic Tree.
Upon its twisted branches hung two unripe magic fruits.
A faint smile curved his lips.
He had not expected such a delightful harvest.
His voice, laced with subtle temptation, drifted softly into the man's ear.
"I'm afraid I must disappoint you. I am not a God… but a demon."
A pause.
"But I can grant you the true power you seek. A power that will make those evil bastards tremble."
The man's heart thundered in his chest. A tension surged through his veins.
"To fall into demonhood," Ye Ming whispered, his tone like silk drawn over a blade. "Abandon that illusory faith. Embrace true darkness. Let them witness what a true demon looks like."
His words seemed to carry an invisible enchantment, burrowing into the man's consciousness.
"Think carefully. When your power surpasses theirs… when you stand before them, what can they do? They can only tremble. Only beg for mercy. That pleasure… that absolute dominion… the feeling of avenging your daughter with your own hands."
"Do you not yearn for it?"
The man lifted his head, confusion flickering within his eyes. "I…"
"Why could they bully your daughter so easily?" the voice pressed on. "Because their power exceeded hers. Their influence crushed yours. So tell me, do you not crave strength?"
The temptation echoed like a mantra, steadily eroding the fragile barrier of his reason.
In his mind, he saw himself standing at the Peak of power, blade of vengeance in hand, striking down each sinner who had harmed his daughter.
The intoxicating vision nearly swallowed him whole.
He trembled violently, struggling to tear himself free.
"I can't…" he murmured, voice low yet firm despite its quiver. "I only want justice for my daughter."
Ye Ming watched as the magic fruit ripened at last, nourished by the man's Heart Demon.
It turned dark red, deep as fresh blood, glossed as though steeped in the color of life itself.
When Ye Ming plucked the fruit, the Demonic Tree withered instantly, crumbling into ash that scattered between heaven and earth.
"The choice is yours. I never force anyone."
As his voice faded, a fruit materialized upon the middle-aged man's table. At the same time, the confessional door creaked open.
Such miraculous phenomena convinced the man beyond doubt that he had encountered a true "demon."
He rushed into the adjoining chamber, desperate to find the owner of that voice.
It was empty.
Only silence remained.
He stared at the fruit in his trembling hand.
After a long struggle, he set it down and turned toward the door. His hand hovered over the handle.
He hesitated.
Then returned and picked up the fruit.
He placed it down again.
Picked it up.
Again and again.
At last, he slipped the fruit into his pocket.
—
Within the garden of a secluded villa,
Ye Ming gently wiped the newly acquired magic fruit, handling it with meticulous care.
He affixed a label to an exquisite box, marking it "001," then placed the fruit inside.
Anticipation sparkled in his eyes.
"I wonder what ability this fruit, born of the Demonic Tree, possesses? How exciting. Gou Er Shen, are you excited?"
In high spirits, Ye Ming tore the tape from the mouth of a small dog beside him.
"My name is Shan De!" the dog barked indignantly. "Host, you are bound to the System of Good Deeds and Virtue. You should help others fulfill their wishes, not harm them!"
Shan De had never imagined that its original host would die of fright the moment it spoke, only for his body to be seized by this self-proclaimed demon cultivator through Possession.
At first, it had feared being devoured.
Later, it discovered that this "demon cultivator" was merely an ordinary man who had lost all his cultivation, clinging only to the title.
Ye Ming's lips curved into a playful arc.
"Am I not cooperating with your work?" he asked lightly. "Gou Er Shen, you're truly troublesome. If I don't work, you complain. If I work, you still complain."
Shan De nearly short-circuited from rage.
"Our task is to accumulate virtue! What you're doing is evil! You'll harm that man!"
Ye Ming paid no heed. He lifted a cup of coffee, inhaling its rich aroma with visible pleasure.
"How am I harming him? I didn't force him to eat it. The choice is his. You can still save him with your own method, after all, he hasn't eaten the fruit yet."
Shan De stared at him helplessly. It was now merely a dog. Without Divine Power, it could only rely on its host to complete tasks.
"Are you willing to hear my method?"
"Of course. Listening costs me nothing."
"All we need is to find the evidence and give it to Li Feng. Then those criminals can be punished. Why complicate matters? Finish the task early and unbind."
"Unbinding sounds wonderful," Ye Ming replied calmly. "Go on then. Complete it quickly."
Shan De fell silent.
It could only pray that Li Feng would not succumb.
——————X——————
In the hospital corridor,
Li Feng arrived just in time to see reporters swarming around his wife like ravenous wolves. Flashing cameras burst like lightning; sharp questions struck like arrows.
"Did your daughter seduce a minor for money?" one reporter shouted. "As her parents, did you know? Now you want to counter-sue that child, where is your conscience?"
"Your daughter committed horrible acts. What did you teach her? Did you let her commit suicide for the compensation?" another pressed maliciously.
His wife stood trapped amid the crowd, tears brimming. "No… my daughter was the victim. It's not what you're saying…"
Li Feng's heart ignited.
He saw again his daughter's innocent smile. The agony recorded in her diary. The twisted smiles of those demons.
Each memory pierced him like needles.
Just as he moved to rush forward, he glimpsed photographs in the reporters' hands.
They stabbed his heart like blades.
He understood.
This was their scheme, to ruin his daughter's reputation, to break his wife, to crush him into helpless submission.
His hand slid into his pocket.
He withdrew the fruit.
Without hesitation, he bit into it.
Bitterness and sourness flooded his mouth. He endured it.
For his daughter.
As the fruit descended his throat, a strange change stirred in his palm.
A mysterious Power was Awakening.
From his hand, he could conjure needles.
"Your daughter took these photos, don't you think—"
Li Feng's gaze locked onto the reporter wielding the microphone.
A violent impulse surged within him.
He silently wished for the needle in his hand to appear within the reporter's mouth.
Suddenly, the reporter choked, clutching his throat in agony, as if something truly obstructed him.
The others recoiled in alarm.
Li Feng seized the moment. He stormed forward, shoving reporters aside.
"You unscrupulous vultures! get out!" he roared, voice carrying an unquestionable authority.
They staggered back.
His cold gaze shifted to the nurses watching nearby.
The nurses shuddered, lowering their heads, hastily calling security.
Soon, guards arrived and expelled the reporters.
Li Feng stood in the corridor, watching their vehicles slowly depart.
His eyes settled upon a car's front tire.
Another impulse rose within him.
They deserved a lesson.
A sharp explosion shattered the air.
The front tire burst violently. The car skidded, crashing into the roadside railing.
His wife watched it all unfold.
An indescribable exhilaration surged within her.
"Retribution," she whispered. "This is the retribution for those who take money to falsely accuse others."
But Li Feng stood frozen.
In horror, he stared at the needle that had returned to his palm.
Cold realization crept into his bones.
"Is this… the power of a demon?" he muttered.