A teenage boy, no older than sixteen or seventeen, stood at the edge of the ruined district of Rotten City. He had been an errand boy for the gangs, running illegal goods beyond the city's borders, but upon returning, he found his world in ruins.
One half of the district had become an infernal pandemonium, a chaotic dance of ash, fire, and smoke. Yet, despite the devastation, the people he had grown up with remained alive, albeit injured. The other half, however, was a frozen nightmare a scene ripped straight from the ninth level of Dante's Inferno. No one survived. Some were frozen like statues, their final expressions locked in agony. Others had been reduced to lifeless husks, their blood drained from their bodies.
Terror gripped him as he sprinted towards his home. His house resembled an igloo, encased in thick frost. Stepping inside, he found his parents, their bodies locked in an eternal embrace, their faces peaceful despite the unnatural cold that had claimed them.
The boy collapsed to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. His hands clenched around the money he had earned from his smuggling jobs, but as despair overtook him, he let the crumpled bills slip from his fingers.
A voice cut through his mourning.
"I couldn't stop that bastard from killing innocent lives in his side of the district. I'm sorry, kiddo."
The boy turned sharply, his tear-streaked face meeting the figure of an old man. The stranger's expression was both valiant and furious. In one hand, he held the severed head of a blue demon by its horns. His tattered clothing bore the marks of battle, and his fingers, tinged purple, showed signs of frostbite.
"Look, kiddo," the old man continued. "Surviving in this world without parents is already a death wish. I sympathize with you, really. What I can do is give you this."
The old man extended his hand, revealing a golden pill and a thick, black book.
The boy hesitated, his voice trembling. "W-what is this?"
The old man exhaled sharply. "I don't have time to explain. Just listen. Go to the warehouse in the final district. In its basement, you'll find my friend. Get him out for me. I have to see if anyone else survived this hellhole."
As the teenager made his way through the ruined streets toward the compound, his mind was still reeling from what he had witnessed. The sight of his frozen parents, the devastation in his district, and the mysterious old man's words all swirled together, making his heartbeat thunder in his chest. Still, he pressed forward, gripping the golden pill and black book tightly in his hands.
The warehouse loomed in front of him, its rusted metal doors half open as if inviting him into the unknown. He hesitated for a moment, his instincts screaming at him to turn back, but he swallowed his fear and stepped inside. The air inside was thick with the stench of rot. He gagged as he descended the worn-out stairs leading to the basement. Each step echoed in the hollow structure, amplifying the feeling of isolation.
When he finally reached the basement, the sight before him sent shivers down his spine. Bodies of creatures from various species lay scattered, their flesh in different stages of decomposition. Flies buzzed around the corpses, their droning hum the only sound accompanying his shallow breaths. He had seen death before this was Rotten City, after all but never on such a grotesque scale.
His eyes, however, were drawn away from the carnage to an unexpected sight. A young woman, naked, stood before a cracked mirror, gazing at her own reflection. One of her hands covered her bosom, while the other rested between her legs, as if she were inspecting herself. A frail old woman lay on the floor nearby, her lips moving silently. The teenager focused on her mouth, instinctively reading her lips: "Give it back."
A deep groaning sound broke his concentration, and his gaze snapped toward the center of the room. A man lay sprawled on the floor, his body barely recognizable beneath layers of bruises and swelling. His face was a pulped mess, swollen beyond recognition. It was a miracle he was still breathing. Every labored inhale sounded like it could be his last.
Beside him, a red stone glowed menacingly, its eerie light casting long shadows against the damp, bloodstained walls. Someone had deliberately placed it there of that, the teenager was certain. But why? He couldn't tell. All he knew was that its presence sent a shiver crawling down his spine like a centipede of dread.
As he tried to make sense of the horrors around him, the naked woman turned, her tranquil smile still painted on her face.
"You're here for him, aren't you? Let me help you get him out of here."
She moved to take the old woman's tattered robes, draping them over herself with practiced ease. But as she stepped forward, something in the boy's gut twisted violently. His instincts screamed not just danger, but predator. This wasn't a kind soul offering aid. No. This was something in human skin, waiting for a moment to strike.
His voice came out hoarse but firm.
"No, lady. I don't want your help. You'll just kill me once we're on the surface, won't you?"
The smile cracked.
Her expression twisted not in anger, but in malice. The serene mask melted into a visage akin to a vengeful specter, something ancient and hungry. In an instant, she appeared before him, lifting him into the air by his throat with unnatural strength.
"Little shit..." she hissed, her breath hot and foul like rotting flowers. "Say one thing just one to make me keep you alive."
Dangling in her grip, the boy didn't flinch. His eyes locked with hers, and in them, she saw it not fear, not defiance, but void. A dark abyss where hope should've been. A boy who had nothing left to lose.
"You can kill me... I don't care..." he choked out, voice rasping. "But my master above... he'll rip you apart. Think it's a bluff? Fine. Just know, if I die the Immortal will tear you in half."
The woman faltered.
Something in the way he said it. That deadpan tone, those eyes void of emotion... she couldn't read him. Couldn't sense a lie. Her confidence flickered, and for the first time, she felt fear.
Cold sweat beaded on her forehead.
She released the boy.
And then she ran. Not with hesitation, but with the urgency of a prey that had narrowly escaped the jaws of something far worse than death.
As the "woman" rushed up the stairs and emerged into the dim warehouse, she froze for a moment. There, sitting calmly atop a dusty storage box, was Zhou Kai. His body was a wreck his left arm gone, one eye missing, and deep bruises covering what remained of his face. Yet, he sat poised, eating a steaming container of kung pao chicken as if the chaos around him was just background noise.
He looked like a disheveled scholar who had simply walked out of a battlefield and into a library. The contrast between his mangled form and his composed demeanor was unsettling.
"So," Zhou Kai said with a crooked smile, his voice rasping but measured, "you're the old matriarch of the Xi clan. A heartless one, no doubt. You knew the soul-stone could only swap bodies with someone of your bloodline. And yet you still used it to possess your own granddaughter."
The smile stayed, but there was no warmth in it. Only cruelty, sharpened by his bloodied face and missing teeth.
The woman didn't flinch. Her voice was soft, disturbingly serene. "That's right. But let me ask you this who truly wants to die in this world?" She stepped forward with elegance, brushing her hair behind one ear, her gaze unblinking. "I had a chance, and I took it. And look at me now... young again. Beautiful."
She turned slowly, presenting her form with an air of triumph. Her new body, stolen from youth and bloodline, was striking voluptuous in a way that demanded attention. Her curves were pronounced: wide hips that swayed like a challenge, a full chest rising confidently with each breath. But it wasn't done to seduce. It was a twisted parade of victory, as if she were showcasing the spoils of her ruthlessness flesh not earned, but taken.
Her smile curled into something cruel. In this moment, she wasn't a woman celebrating youth she was a predator in silk skin, reveling in what she'd stolen from the grave.
For the first time, Zhou Kai's expression darkened. He set his chopsticks down slowly, licking the sauce from his lips as he stared.
"If you don't want to die, stop playing games," he said coldly. "Or I'll eat your heart instead of this chicken."
There was a silence between them.
"What that brat said is true," Zhou Kai continued. "There is an immortal outside. And he killed our boss. If you don't want to follow him into oblivion, then follow me. Become part of the Corpse Party Organization."
He stood up, wobbling slightly but with an aura of dread gathering around him.
"I don't care if you were once a madam of the Xi clan," he said. "Once you die, your name, your wealth, your legacy it's all gone. But follow me, and your soul... belongs to something greater. To us."
Zhou Kai took a jagged blue stone from his pocket. Without hesitation, he crushed it in his palm.
A shimmering green portal tore through the air, casting an eerie light across the warehouse.
He stepped through it and vanished.
The girl-turned-matriarch stared at the portal in silence. Her face twisted, not with fear, but with calculation.
Then, with one final glance behind her... she stepped forward and disappeared through the portal.
The boy stumbled out of the compound, drenched in sweat, his muscles trembling from the strain of carrying an adult down countless stairs. His knees finally gave out as he reached the broken streets outside, and he collapsed onto the cold, blood-streaked pavement.
The sky above was beginning to bleed gold the sun slowly rising over the shattered horizon, casting its light upon the ruins of Rotten City.
He panted heavily, blinking against the morning glow. Then, above him, a shadow fell.
"You're a grit boy... That's rare these days," came the voice of the old man. He was floating just overhead, standing calmly on a sleek flying sword, Wei Feng slung unconscious across his shoulder.
"Look, I'll be brief," the old man said, his tone almost fatherly. "That pill? It'll let you reach attainment levels. Cultivation. Growth. Power. Whatever you want to call it. And the book? It lets you learn any skill from the mortal realm any art, any craft, any technique."
The boy looked up at him, dazed, dirt-streaked, and barely comprehending.
"I know you don't understand shit right now," the old man added, smirking. "But maybe one day... maybe one day you will."
With that, the sword hummed with qi, and in a gust of wind and light, the old man soared into the sky, disappearing into the clouds with Wei Feng in tow heading in the direction of the distant mountains, where the Sect awaited.
The boy remained on the ground, staring at the sky. The book clutched to his chest. The pill warm in his palm.