The warehouse had fallen into an eerie silence after Chen Batian's departure, broken only by the distant sounds of commotion from the main compound as disciples and elders mobilized in response to the escalating crisis. Li Wuchen remained motionless for several minutes, using the time to assess his injuries and plan his next moves while maintaining the appearance of a severely beaten servant.
"The synchronization rate is increasing," Wuji observed with clinical interest. "Physical trauma, emotional stress, and proximity to genuine danger are accelerating our bond."
Wuchen could feel it too—a growing warmth that spread outward from the concealed dagger, accompanied by heightened awareness and gradually diminishing pain. His bruises were fading with supernatural speed, and the cuts on his face had already stopped bleeding.
"How much longer before—" he began silently, but his question was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. Multiple sets, moving with the careful precision of trained warriors rather than the hasty urgency of panicked disciples.
"They return," Wuji warned. "But not the same ones who left."
Wuchen immediately resumed his position on the floor, arranging himself to appear more severely injured than he actually was. Through half-closed eyes, he watched as five figures entered the warehouse—Chen Batian and his four followers, but something fundamental had changed about them.
Their movements were too fluid, too perfectly coordinated. Their eyes held a cold intelligence that seemed ancient and malevolent. Most tellingly, they cast no shadows despite the bright afternoon light streaming through the high windows.
"Possession," Wuji identified grimly. "Demonic entities have taken control of their bodies. This is no longer a simple test—it has become a genuine attempt at elimination."
"Young Master Chen?" Wuchen called out weakly, maintaining his cover while preparing for what he now realized would be a fight for his life. "I thought you had gone to help with the village situation."
The thing wearing Chen Batian's face smiled, but the expression was wrong in ways that defied description. "Oh, we have helped. In fact, we've helped far more than anyone realizes." The voice was Chen Batian's, but the intonation and vocabulary belonged to something that had never been human.
The possessed disciples spread out in a practiced formation, cutting off all possible escape routes. Their movements were synchronized with an inhuman precision that sent chills down Wuchen's spine. Whatever entities had taken control of them possessed centuries of combat experience.
"You know," the Chen Batian-thing continued conversationally, "we really should thank you for making this so convenient. Drawing us directly to our target, providing the perfect isolated location, even ensuring that no one will interrupt us for quite some time."
Wuchen's blood ran cold as the implications became clear. "Target?"
"The Supreme Demon Blade, of course." The possessed disciple tilted his head at an angle that would have broken a human neck. "Did you really think its awakening would go unnoticed? Did you imagine that powers older than your pathetic sect would simply ignore such a... development?"
"They know," Wuji confirmed unnecessarily. "The question is: how much do they know, and what are they prepared to risk to obtain me?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Wuchen said aloud, struggling to maintain his innocent facade despite the mounting evidence that deception was futile.
"Please." The thing laughed, a sound like breaking glass mixed with screaming wind. "The spiritual disturbances began the moment you formed your bond with the blade. Every demon and devil within a thousand li could sense its awakening. Did you think mere distance would protect you?"
The other possessed disciples began to close the circle, their movements predatory and inevitable. Wuchen found himself trapped in the center of the warehouse with nowhere to run and no hope of calling for help—the ongoing crisis in the village had drawn away anyone who might have come to investigate unusual sounds.
"Here's what's going to happen," the Chen Batian-entity explained with sickening courtesy. "You're going to hand over the blade voluntarily, and in exchange, we'll make your death relatively quick and painless. Refuse, and we'll demonstrate creative applications of the techniques these bodies have learned during their years of cultivation."
"And if I don't have this blade you're talking about?"
"Then we'll tear this warehouse apart stone by stone until we find it, and your death will be considerably more... educational." The smile widened beyond human anatomical limits. "But we both know you have it. The resonance is too strong for you to be merely a bystander."
Wuchen closed his eyes, feeling the moment of choice crystallizing around him. He could surrender the dagger and die quietly, allowing these entities to claim victory and disappear back into whatever shadows had spawned them. Or he could fight, knowing that doing so would reveal his secret to the entire sect and irrevocably change his life.
The decision was actually easier than he expected.
"You're right," he said, opening his eyes and rising smoothly to his feet. "I do have something you want."
"Finally," Wuji whispered with satisfaction. "I was beginning to wonder if you would ever stop hiding from your destiny."
The possessed disciples tensed as they recognized the change in Wuchen's demeanor. The frightened, beaten servant had vanished, replaced by someone who radiated quiet confidence and barely contained power.
"Where is it?" the Chen Batian-thing demanded, its false courtesy dropping away to reveal raw hunger.
Wuchen reached into his robes and withdrew the black jade dagger, holding it casually as if it were nothing more than a common eating utensil. "Right here. But I'm afraid I can't give it to you."
"Why not?"
"Because," Wuchen said softly, feeling the weapon begin to warm in his grip, "it doesn't belong to you. It never has, and it never will."
The temperature in the warehouse began to drop precipitously, and the shadows in the corners started moving independently of their light sources. The possessed disciples' expressions shifted from smug confidence to genuine alarm as they felt forces beyond their understanding beginning to stir.
"Impossible," one of them whispered. "No mortal should be able to—"
"You're right," Wuchen interrupted, raising the dagger until its blade caught and reflected the afternoon light. "No mortal should be able to. But then again, I'm not exactly mortal anymore, am I?"
The blade began to vibrate in his hand, emitting a low harmonic that seemed to resonate in dimensions beyond the physical. Cracks appeared in the stone walls of the warehouse, spreading outward in fractal patterns that hurt to look at directly.
"Are you ready?" Wuji asked, power building like a storm about to break.
"I'm ready," Wuchen replied, both aloud and silently.
"Then let us show them what they have chosen to challenge."
The dagger exploded into fragments of impossible light, each piece becoming a star of destruction that hung suspended in the air around Wuchen like a crown of divine wrath. The possessed disciples screamed in unison—not with their human voices, but with the otherworldly shrieks of demons suddenly faced with their own annihilation.
The first true battle of Li Wuchen's new life was about to begin, and the warehouse would never be the same again.