The stillness of dawn pressed against the bamboo walls of Lucien's secluded quarters, broken only by the faint rhythm of his breath. He sat cross-legged on the worn meditation mat, back straight, the soft glow of spirit energy cycling silently through his meridians. It moved like whispered vengeance, cool and relentless, igniting the dull ache in his bones that had become all too familiar. The scent of pine incense curled in the air, curling like ghosts above the censer, yet peace refused to settle in his heart.
Then, a cold chime echoed in his mind.
[Hidden Trial Unlocked: "Purification Begins"]Objective: Eliminate 3 corrupt sect members within 3 days.Reward: 1 Verdict Slot, Unlock Tier 2 Skill Tree, +200 EPFailure Penalty: System Lockout for 30 days (no EP gain)
Lucien's eyes opened slowly, golden irises glowing faintly beneath long, black lashes. The faintest smirk curved his lips.
"Three days. Three sinners," he murmured. "If the heavens demand it, then so be it."
Elder Thorne's execution had only been the prologue. The System didn't reward idleness; it demanded reaping. And it had now sharpened its blade for a more deliberate slaughter.
The first trial had begun.
The clang of steel and the roar of voices filled the inner court arena. It was a sacred tradition of the Radiant Lotus Temple—sunrise duels to showcase promise, posture strength, and impress the ever-watchful elders. A sea of disciples, clad in silken robes bearing house crests, stood under the morning sun, breath steaming in the early chill.
Lucien lingered in the shadow of a maple tree near the arena's edge, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. His outer disciple robes were humble, stained with wear, their dullness contrasting with the crisp whites and radiant silvers of those gathered for the duel. He wasn't here to compete.
He was here to watch.
Across the field, the final duel commenced. The crowd hushed.
A tall young man stepped onto the stone platform. His robes were pristine, snow-white with faint blue frost patterns. His silver hair fell to his shoulders, shimmering like steel under light. His sword gleamed with a cold aura, tiny flakes of frost condensing near its hilt.
"Rein Aldric," someone whispered beside Lucien. "They say he mastered Frostheart Sword Style at seventeen. Defeated a Core Formation spirit beast with a single strike."
Lucien narrowed his gaze. A flick of intent activated the Eye of Judgment.
Karma: +10
Clean. Suspiciously so.
Rein's opponent charged across the arena, shouting as his flaming blade cleaved the air.
But it was over before it began.
Rein moved like falling snow. Silent, precise.
Shhk.
A single line of frost cut the space between them.
The challenger's blade shattered. A deep slice appeared across his shoulder before he even knew he'd been struck. He collapsed to one knee, weaponless.
Gasps. Then polite applause.
Admiration tinged with fear.
Rein's gaze swept over the disciples—and stopped. On Lucien.
Their eyes locked.
For a heartbeat, the world froze. Two predators stared across a sea of lambs. One forged of ice, the other of judgment.
Rein stepped down, his sword returning to its sheath without sound. He walked straight toward Lucien.
"You don't belong here," he said, voice low and even, like a winter breeze. "Your presence feels… like a storm waiting to break."
Lucien tilted his head. "Then pray the temple's foundations are strong."
No threat. No flinch. Only a quiet, mutual recognition.
Lucien turned first, vanishing into the crowd like ink in water.
A rival.
Not a villain.
But a hunter of another kind.
By midday, Lucien had cast off the shadow of ambition and dressed himself in frailty. He wore threadbare robes now, dust in his hair, his aura suppressed to that of a struggling outer disciple barely clinging to Qi Condensation.
He wandered with uncertain steps, shoulders hunched, gaze lowered.
Perfect bait.
The system pulsed in his mind again.
[Skill Acquired: Mark of Condemnation]Effect: Tag a target with hidden spiritual mark. Tracks their karma over time and prevents disguise or suppression of sin.Limit: 5 active marks.
Lucien smiled faintly.
The hunt began.
Target 1: Disciple Venn.
Charismatic. Popular. Dangerous.
Lucien trailed him through the Alchemy Hall corridors. The boy had slick black hair and a face sculpted for admiration. Female disciples giggled behind their sleeves when he passed.
But Lucien saw deeper.
In a narrow hall, Venn cornered a new initiate. The girl clutched her robes, eyes wide with discomfort.
"Call me senior brother," Venn whispered. "Or I won't be there next time the furnace blows. You wouldn't want that, would you?"
Lucien's gaze hardened.
Karma: -240
Dark tendrils pulsed around Venn's soul.
Lucien brushed the stone wall beside him.
[Mark of Condemnation: Applied]
Target 2: Elder Wren.
Kind eyes. Soft voice.
A liar.
Late that night, Lucien entered Wren's office. Silent as mist. Hidden in the rafters, he watched.
Scrolls lay in neat stacks—exam scores, promotion orders, test results. Yet Lucien saw the pattern. Dozens of names scored higher than they earned.
Then Wren laughed.
Another disciple bowed before him, slipping a pouch of spirit stones under the desk.
"Your talents deserve recognition," the elder said smoothly.
Karma: -520
A crimson mist clung to him like rot.
Lucien whispered a symbol into the wooden beam.
[Mark of Condemnation: Applied]
Target 3: Instructor Bail.
Keeper of herbs. Quiet man. Efficient.
Lucien followed him through the gardens, then to the northern storage shed.
There, hidden under bundles of fresh ingredients, were bundles of rot. Spoiled spirit herbs. Muddied pills. Broken vials of tincture.
A cloaked figure arrived.
They exchanged goods. Bail walked away richer.
Karma: -350
Lucien knelt on the floorboards, drawing a silent glyph with a fragment of charcoal.
[Mark of Condemnation: Applied]
Three sinners. All marked. All watched.
Now, he waited.
But Lucien was not the only hunter.
Above, in the high balcony of the main temple, Rein Aldric stood with arms crossed, staring at the outer court like a sovereign watching over ants.
Lucien's movements—too smooth. Too rehearsed.
His conversations were sparse. His paths exact.
He had seen the old Lucien before: average. Forgettable.
This Lucien moved like a blade being drawn.
Rein approached Elder Taran, the temple's rule-keeper.
"Something is off about Lucien Graves," Rein said.
Taran laughed, waving a dismissive hand. "That boy? He couldn't cultivate wind from an open window."
Rein didn't press.
But his eyes darkened with thought.
"He's hiding something," he thought. "And it's sharp enough to kill."
That night, Lucien returned to his quarters. He lit no candles. The moonlight bathed the room in pale silver, flickering through the bamboo slats like blade slashes.
The System Interface hovered in the air before him.
Execution Points: 100Marks Active: 3/5
One mark pulsed.
[Sin Activity Detected: Target Venn – Karma Surge to -270]Verdict Potential Increased.
Lucien opened the skill tree.
A new branch shimmered faintly:
[Verdict Chains – Locked]
Soon.
He drew his blade from its sheath, the polished edge catching the moonlight. He took out a whetstone and began to sharpen it slowly, methodically.
Not for preparation.
For ritual.
A killer's meditation.
"One down," he whispered, recalling the scorched bones of Elder Thorne vanishing into smoke. "Three more condemned."
He paused, the blade gleaming in his lap.
"Let the trial begin."
Outside, the wind stirred. Clouds swallowed the moon.
Somewhere in the high tower, Rein Aldric shivered. The birds fled the trees, and the frost in his veins whispered a warning.
Something was coming.