The morning fog clung to the mountains like a ghostly shroud. Shen Zong had left the Ruins of the Fallen Saints, his body still aching from the fusion of lotus and relics, veins blackened with cursed energy. He was stronger than before—but even he knew that strength came at a price.
And the world had decided to pay him back in full.
---
From three directions, elite cultivators descended: members of the Azure Cloud Sect, Verdant Peak Sect, and two lesser yet deadly sects, their combined force numbering over fifty warriors. Each carried mastery over ancient techniques, elemental qi, and life-threatening arrays.
From afar, their leader, Grand Elder Fenlong, surveyed the battlefield. His voice carried like a storm.
"The boy has grown too dangerous. He wields relics and cursed energy beyond comprehension. Today… we end him."
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Shen Zong's calm façade flickered for the first time. His body ached from overuse of relics; the lotus' hunger burned violently, demanding more life force than he could safely provide.
This… will be unlike any fight before… he thought, black veins crawling across his arms. But survival is the only option.
He let the shadow whip coil around him, the gauntlet glinting under the muted sun, and the phantom lotus bloomed violently behind him. Tendrils of shadow writhed, ready to consume, restrain, and attack.
---
The battle erupted like a tempest. Qi blasts tore through the mountains, elemental storms clashing with cursed shadows. Shen Zong dodged, countered, and struck with precision, but the numbers pressed him relentlessly.
A pair of sect warriors attacked simultaneously: one wielding a sword of ice qi, the other manipulating a storm of fire. Shen Zong lashed out with the whip, but misjudged timing—ice shards pierced his shoulder, searing pain shooting through him.
He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to fight through agony. "Patience… patience is the key," he whispered. Every blow I endure… every strike I survive… feeds the lotus further.
---
Another assault came—Grand Elder Fenlong himself, combining multiple elemental techniques, forcing Shen Zong to his knees. The lotus throbbed violently, shadows thrashing uncontrollably as he tried to absorb and redirect the attacks. Pain lanced through every vein, and for a fleeting moment, his mind wavered under the immense pressure.
I… cannot… lose…
Drawing upon the relics, Shen Zong unleashed a desperate technique: merging the whip and gauntlet fully with the lotus. Black energy exploded outward, creating a barrier of shadows that repelled multiple attacks, yet the strain nearly tore his body apart. He fell to the ground, breaths ragged, blood dripping from his lips and nose.
The coalition hesitated, sensing his near collapse—but Shen Zong's eyes, sharp and cold, gleamed.
Survive… adapt… grow…
---
With an almost supernatural focus, he leapt back into the fray. The whip lashed like a shadow serpent, the gauntlet striking with demonic force. Even as his muscles trembled and his qi threatened to collapse, he began dismantling the formation, picking off cultivators with surgical precision.
Still, each strike came at a cost. Pain wracked his body, his vision blurred at the edges, and the lotus pulsed violently, demanding more life force than he could safely give. For the first time, Shen Zong faced the horrifying possibility that he might be killed—not by an enemy's skill, but by his own cursed power.
---
Finally, after a relentless, desperate struggle, Shen Zong managed to isolate Grand Elder Fenlong. With one final, calculated strike, the shadow whip coiled around the elder, draining enough qi to incapacitate him, while the gauntlet amplified a punch that sent him crashing into a jagged cliff.
Shen Zong collapsed to his knees, body trembling violently, black veins screaming across his skin. Blood, sweat, and shadow energy mingled, yet his eyes remained sharp, ruthless, and alive.
He had survived. But only barely.
The phantom lotus quivered behind him, petals pulsating like wounded stars. Its hunger had been sated for the moment, but the price had been immense: his body had nearly reached its breaking point, and the limits of the relics and lotus had been tested fully.
---
From distant peaks and hidden valleys, sect disciples and demonic spies observed. This boy… they whispered. He fights like a demon… yet he bleeds like a mortal.
Shen Zong looked up at the bloodied battlefield, chest heaving, shadows writhing around him.
The world… is beginning to understand me.
And somewhere in the deep shadows, ancient eyes glimmered, observing the boy who had survived the Trial of Shadows—and whose cursed lotus bloomed through the agony of mortal struggle.