The obsidian blade hummed in Shen Zong's hands, vibrating with ancient energy. The inscriptions etched along its surface pulsed faintly, responding to the cursed qi of the lotus within him.
"This power… it whispers," Shen Zong murmured, eyes calm yet sharp. "Knowledge of the past, the sins of those who came before… and the keys to what lies ahead."
He lifted the blade, the phantom lotus behind him flaring once. The shadows of the ruins danced, stretching and twisting as if alive.
Every strike, every kill, every step… will feed me further. The scripture whispered, its voice both seductive and cruel.
---
Far beyond the mountains, news of the Blackwood Forest massacre and Shen Zong's presence in the Ruins of the Fallen Saints reached the ears of multiple sects.
The Azure Cloud Sect immediately convened an emergency inner council. Elders argued fiercely.
"He is tampering with relics of the ancients!" one shouted. "He's beyond our understanding, and now he grows stronger every moment!"
"Send the top disciples," another countered. "We cannot risk him mastering such power unchallenged."
"But if we act rashly…" the sect master murmured, his eyes narrowing. "He has already killed enforcers and hunters alike. This boy… is no longer mortal. He is a calamity waiting to awaken."
---
Meanwhile, the Crimson Shadow Hall stirred. The emissary reported with urgency:
"The boy has reached the Ruins of the Fallen Saints. He wields relics imbued with forbidden qi. If allowed to cultivate freely, he may surpass anything the sects or even demons have ever seen."
The high mistress leaned forward, a predatory smile curling across her lips.
"Good. Let him grow. We will not confront him yet. But keep eyes on him. And when the time comes, he will either be ours… or our favorite toy."
---
Back in the ruins, Shen Zong tested the obsidian blade against the phantom lotus, allowing the cursed energies to flow between them. Black qi spiraled around him, merging with the relic's energy. Pain shot through his body, veins burning, his bones aching, yet his eyes remained calm.
A single thought drove him onward: Strength above all. Wisdom above weakness. Survival above morality.
He thrust the blade forward, a slash of black energy splitting the air. The ruins trembled, and the ancient spirits lingering there wailed in recognition, their forms twisting into shadows before dissipating entirely.
Shen Zong's cultivation surged. He had stabilized the Second Stage foundation, and the phantom lotus's seven petals glowed with an intensity far beyond anything he had wielded before.
Yet the boy knew… the world was beginning to notice.
From hidden peaks, sect disciples moved like ghosts, watching and waiting for the slightest misstep. From deeper shadows, demons stirred, intrigued by the rising darkness within this cursed mortal.
And Shen Zong?
He smiled faintly, calm as always, his voice barely audible above the hum of the relics and the whispers of the lotus.
"Let them come. Let all who would oppose me step forward. Every battle, every enemy… is fertilizer for the lotus. Every soul… a petal waiting to bloom."
The ruins pulsed in response, alive with the energies of the fallen, the cursed, and the eternal.
And in the distance, unseen but ever-present, the world's eyes turned toward Shen Zong.
The storm had begun.