The Black-Corner Region was shaken to its core!
Blood Cloud Mountain earned its name from the perpetual shroud of blood mist that enveloped it, as if the very peaks were bathed in crimson clouds.
But now, Blood Cloud Mountain had become a forbidden land in the hearts of many within the Black-Corner Region—all because of the infamous and malevolent force that resided there.
The Blood Sect!
Rumours said that Blood Cloud Mountain had not always borne this name. It was only after the Blood Sect settled there that the mountain became perpetually veiled in blood mist, a side effect of the sinister dou techniques practiced by its disciples.
Deep within the mountain lay a valley, one that often echoed with agonized screams.
The Blood Sect disciples called it the Blood Valley—a prison for those captured from the outside, regarded as nothing more than blood food to fuel their dark cultivation.
Every day, the sect's higher-ups would select a few unfortunate souls from the valley to serve as sacrifices for their gruesome practices.
This was the source of the endless wails that haunted the land.
Deep within the Blood Sect's stronghold, inside a dimly lit secret chamber, a figure cloaked in crimson sat cross-legged, engulfed in a swirling mist of blood. The air reeked of iron and rot, thick with the stench of death.
"Boom!"
The mist dispersed, revealing a middle-aged man in blood-red robes. His eyes gleamed with a sinister red light, and an aura of chilling cruelty radiated from his very being.
This was Fan Lao, the Blood Sect's leader—ranked fifth on the Black List, a five-star Dou Emperor at the peak of his power.
The dou techniques he cultivated demanded the blood of the strong, and countless lives had been extinguished under his hands.
His reputation as the Blood Demon was well-earned, a name that struck fear into the hearts of all in the Black-Corner Region.
As Fan Lao rose from his meditation, his voice slithered out like the hiss of a venomous snake: "Bring me today's blood food."
Two sect disciples quickly entered, dragging a battered middle-aged man between them. The captive, a five-star Dou Spirit, had his meridians shattered, rendering him powerless.
His face twisted in terror as he recognized his fate.
"Elder Fan! Spare me! Please, I beg you—!"
But Fan Lao's expression remained as cold as ice. His gaze was that of a butcher eyeing livestock.
"Leave us," he commanded.
The disciples bowed and withdrew, sealing the chamber behind them.
The prisoner's panic surged. "Fan Lao! I—I'm a deacon of Black Mark City! If you kill me—"
"Annoying."
With a flicker of impatience, Fan Lao lunged forward like a specter of death. His palm struck the man's chest, and a sickening crunch echoed as veins bulged beneath the victim's skin.
"AHHH! NO—!"
"Let me go! Fan Lao, you demon! You'll pay for this—!"
The man's screams grew weaker as his blood was forcibly drained, siphoned through Fan Lao's palm and into his own body.
Within moments, the prisoner's body was a lifeless husk, his face a ghostly white.
Fan Lao exhaled in satisfaction, the red glow in his eyes intensifying.
"Hahaha! If I had more high-quality blood food like this, breaking through to the six-star Dou Emperor would be within reach!"
His laughter, shrill and inhuman, filled the chamber.
But then—
"Jie jie jie…"
A voice, even more grating than his own, slithered through the darkness.
"I'm afraid you won't get the chance."
Fan Lao's blood ran cold.
"Who's there?!"
His eyes darted across the chamber—until a swirling black mist materialized before him.
From within the shadows, a figure emerged, its gaze piercing through the darkness like a blade.
"Fan Lao, you've slaughtered countless innocents. Today, I deliver judgment in the heavens' name!"
Fan Lao's heart pounded. This intruder had slipped into his most secure chamber undetected.
Swallowing his unease, he forced a respectful tone. "Esteemed one, have I wronged you in some way?"
The shadow let out a mocking cackle.
"Jie jie jie! Must there be hatred to kill?"
"Fan Lao, don't you find your own words laughable?"
Realizing negotiation was futile, Fan Lao's face darkened.
"Then let's see who dies today!"
With a roar, he unleashed a blood-red palm strike, aiming to obliterate the intruder.
But the shadow only chuckled.
"The fifth-ranked on the Black List? Still just an ant."
A casual flick of its wrist—
"BOOM!"
Fan Lao was sent crashing into the wall, bones cracking on impact. Blood sprayed from his lips as horror dawned on him.
"A… Dou Ancestor?!"
Desperation seized him.
"GUARDS! HELP—!"
The shadow's laughter deepened.
"No one's coming. They're all dead."
A dark vortex swirled in the shadow's palm, an unfathomable devouring force locking onto Fan Lao's very soul.
"W-What is this?! NO—!"
His soul was being ripped from his body.
Realization struck like lightning.
"You—You're from the Hall Of Soul!"
The shadow offered no answer, only a merciless whisper: "Soul Eater Art."
A final, ear-splitting shriek and Fan Lao's soul was compressed into a black bead, his consciousness trapped within.
The shadow absorbed the bead, refining the soul into pure energy.
After a moment, its eyes snapped open, gleaming with cold satisfaction.
"Even more vile than the rumors suggested. Truly, death was too kind for you."
With a flick of its wrist, Fan Lao's spatial ring flew into its grasp.
Then, the shadow vanished—heading straight for the Blood Sect's treasury.
From Fan Lao's memories, it knew exactly where the treasures lay.
And it intended to claim them all.
By the next day, news of Fan Lao's death had spread like wildfire, sending shockwaves through the Black-Corner Region.
At first, none could believe it.
"Fan Lao—the Blood Demon—dead?"
Ranked fifth on the Black List?
A Dou Emperor powerhouse?
"Impossible!"
Yet as reports from spies within the Blood Sect confirmed the truth, disbelief turned to frenzy.
Fan Lao's corpse had been found in his secret chamber.
Every high-ranking member of the Blood Sect had been slaughtered.
The treasury—completely looted.
The Blood Sect, once untouchable, was now defenseless.
And the vultures descended.
Within a single day, the mighty Blood Sect was annihilated.
Its disciples were massacred. Fan Ling, Fan Lao's son, was tortured to death, his body dismembered and fed to wild beasts.
The mountain that had once reeked of blood now stood silent—a graveyard of tyranny.
The Black-Corner Region rejoiced.
But beneath the celebration, a chilling question lingered: Who—or what—had the power to kill Fan Lao so effortlessly?
The answer sent a shiver down the spines of every major power.
For if even the Blood Demon could fall so easily…
Who would be next?
…
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