The valley below the Ruins of the Fallen Saints was alive with chaos. Hundreds of elite cultivators from the Azure Cloud Sect, Verdant Peak Sect, and the Orthodox Martial Alliance's minor sects had gathered, each wielding life-threatening techniques. Their combined presence sent shockwaves through the land; the earth itself trembled under the pressure of their qi.
Shen Zong stood alone atop a cragged peak, his body battered, black veins crawling across his skin like living shadows. The relics—the obsidian gauntlet and shadow whip—hung heavy in his hands, but his strength was nearly spent. The phantom lotus behind him throbbed violently, petals pulsating like dying stars.
Pain lanced through every fiber of his body. Blood dripped from his mouth, vision blurred, and the world seemed to tilt around him. For the first time, Shen Zong felt the edge of mortality pressing against him.
This… cannot end here… he muttered through gritted teeth, each word a thread of determination. There is one last step… one final bloom…
---
The coalition attacked simultaneously. Sword qi, elemental storms, and demonic arrays converged on him like a hurricane. Each strike tore through his defenses, sending torrents of pain shooting through his body.
A massive wave of qi struck his chest, pushing him to the ground. The lotus behind him pulsed violently, petals trembling as if warning him of the ultimate cost. His body shook, almost unable to move, black veins glowing ominously.
If I die… all is lost… Shen Zong thought. But if I endure…
---
In that moment, on the verge of death, something awakened within him. Pain, blood, and shadow converged into clarity. The cursed lotus, the relics, and his own demonic qi aligned perfectly. A surge of understanding hit him like lightning: the true path of immortality was not merely cultivation or power—it was the harmonious fusion of life, death, and shadow, accepting all pain as nourishment for eternal growth.
Immortality… is not earned. It is realized.
A calm, ruthless smile spread across Shen Zong's bloodied face. He rose slowly, shadows coiling violently around him, the lotus blooming fully for the first time. Black petals radiated an aura so dense it swallowed the light, a pulse so powerful it resonated through the valley, shaking mountains and forests alike.
---
The enemies hesitated. Grand Elder Fenlong and Xian Mo felt the oppressive force emanating from Shen Zong. His qi had become untouchable—fluid, violent, and unrelenting.
In a single motion, Shen Zong swung the shadow whip. It extended like a living shadow, entangling dozens of enemies, absorbing their qi, and feeding it into the lotus. The obsidian gauntlet struck simultaneously, sending a shockwave of demonic energy that shattered swords, broke formations, and reduced elite cultivators to dust.
Every strike, every tendril, every pulse of shadow energy moved with precision and grace. Pain had been transmuted into power; struggle had become enlightenment.
---
Within moments, the valley was a battlefield of devastation. The coalition's best warriors lay defeated, their lives drained, their sect flags burned and torn. The ground itself was scorched, forests flattened, and qi energy warped unnaturally across the landscape.
Shen Zong stood alone atop the rubble, lotus fully bloomed, shadow whip coiling like a living serpent, gauntlet radiating dark light. His chest heaved, yet his eyes glimmered with the calm, ruthless wisdom of one who had glimpsed immortality.
The world… has finally seen me.
---
News of the massacre spread like wildfire. From distant mountains to the capitals of major sects, whispers erupted:
"A boy… an orphan… wiped out hundreds of elite disciples with his bare hands…"
"He wields demonic relics and a lotus that devours qi… he must be stopped."
"The Orthodox Martial Alliance… must convene. No mortal can face this power alone."
Even the most powerful clans and sects—those who had never worried about a single mortal—took notice. The Jianghu itself trembled, as the name Shen Zong became synonymous with unstoppable, ruthless, and demonic power.
---
Standing alone amidst the wreckage, Shen Zong's lips curled into a faint, cold smile. The pain of struggle, the brink of death, and the weight of enemies had all led him here. He had achieved something no one could take away: enlightenment of immortality, forged through agony, blood, and ruthlessness.
The world had learned a terrible truth: Shen Zong was no longer just a boy. He was eternal.
And the storm he would bring to the Jianghu was only beginning.