Ahead, another floating island drifted into view.
Then another.
And another.
A chain of inverted landmasses—each connected by similar lantern-lit bridges—formed a vast, continuous procession through the rain-stretched sky.
Across those bridges marched other hordes.
Thousands of demons from distant hatcheries. Their bridges converged, split, and rejoined, all leading deeper into the Endless Nether Abyss.
Qiren's eyes traced the glowing network of paths.
"We've been walking for hours, and we're still not even near the Azure Pit," he murmured, lowering his gaze to his feet. "All we've done is waste negative karma."
He took another step. A glowing footprint flared briefly beneath his foot.
"This walk isn't that simple after all. If you hadn't collected enough Qi and karma—or made yourself a trophy to help regenerate both—you wouldn't even be able to walk this road."
He lifted his gaze.
His newly tied hair jingled softly as the Taijitu pieces he had gouged from three of his ten vengeful soul scouts swayed in the air.
Slung over his shoulder were the heads and pelts of two juvenile demons—one the first to attack him when they were released onto the bridge, the other a blue-skinned Infernal.
Both had been skinned from the head down and draped over him like a coat.
"It feels like there's always a bigger fish in this underworld," he muttered, shielding his eyes as he stared at the Fly Wardens above.
They fluttered through the violet clouds on five wings, ever ready to swoop down on any demon who stopped walking—or whose footprints ceased drawing from the flow of Qi and Karma.
The obsidian walkway was their reward.
Those the circling giants spared were allowed to climb into the hollowed Valley of Scrolls. Now, they no longer had to resist. They could feast once the marchers were exhausted—or failed to cross the bridges before the end.
"I don't know which of you is worse—you or the vultures I met," Qiren muttered to himself, recalling his encounter with the pelt-wearing vulture leader.
He chuckled, touching the skins draped over his shoulders. "Or maybe I'm becoming just as bad as all of you."
Negative Karma: 4,767.8 +1.6 ↑↓
Refinement Qi: 320.7 +0.1 +0.1 +0.5 ↑↓
Refinement Realm: Middle Stage / Beginner
Ash flowed from his left palm as he activated a fragile flame beneath the downpour, forming a half-burnt scrap of paper.
Like the other juveniles marching ahead, he couldn't fully manifest his Dao flame—each attempt dampened or vanished, just like his scarf dissolving in the rain.
"This place really knows how to twist a person," he sighed, walking through the marching horde.
At least I used their remains well. My necklace wasn't much of a boost, but now that I have these two trophies draped over my shoulders, I can walk in peace.
His thoughts drifted back to the skin-covered vulture.
Is that why it was covered too? Those were its trophies, he wondered. I wonder where it is right now. Am I a match for it now?
He shook his head, forcing the thoughts away.
It didn't matter anymore.
They had already left.
If anything, it would be the problem of the next batch of newborns—when the island reoriented itself and all the beasts hiding in caves and hollows crawled back out.
If I ever get strong enough, I'll come back here and take my revenge, he vowed. He was no longer human—so he had to stop acting like one. If he was humiliated, he would repay that humiliation tenfold.
Pain: 11
Fear: 6.1
The embers on the parchment before him shifted, displaying his accumulated pain and fear. He was ready to unleash it all the moment he was attacked.
Qiren looked up at the Guardian Beasts circling above.
Two of the five-winged birds had singled him out—not because he was a threat, but because he was the opposite.
Flap! Flap!
Unlike the horde miles ahead, he lagged far behind, having taken his time skinning the coats he now wore.
To the birds, he looked weak.
They waited, convinced he was nearing collapse—easy carrion they could legally devour.
For now, I'll have to deal with these two…
He stopped walking. His fingers slipped into his pouch and withdrew a Cursed Berry.
"Let's see if I can get myself a new mount."
He rubbed the tomato-sized fruit against his chest, cleaning it, then sat it down.
He placed it beside him and acted as if he were resting before standing up and removing his Taijitu necklaces, hairpin, and coats.
He placed each at measured distances from the center, where he set the berry.
Eventually, he returned and lay down fully on the bridge, his satchel becoming a pillow.
Spirit of bad luck, he chanted inwardly, latched onto shards of despair—I call for your form to change once more.
I shall give you form again.
For I have a tribute that has yet to land—a body of violet and gold, stranded feathers.
He envisioned himself from the outside. His hands formed a mudra as his ethereal body walked slow circles around his physical one.
The vision deepened.
Three circles formed around him as his ethereal self continued its path.
"I call for you all to converge into one," he whispered.
"To live in a new body and help me strive for perfection."
Misfortune and fortune walk hand in hand, he thought. I was given a second chance at life. To keep it—others must be cursed.
The world darkened.
For a brief second, he saw everything he had laid out, nestled within three concentric rings.
This was his attempt to complete the ritual circle as best he could—without the lifelong possessions he'd once relied on.
The outer ring held his oldest belonging after reincarnation: his first Taijitu chain necklace.
The second ring cradled his second necklace and the hairpin he used to tie up his hair.
The innermost circle contained his red and blue pelts—
And something strange happened.
All three rings flared to life in the darkness, their light warping the obsidian bridge beneath him as distorted lines spread outward.
Raindrops froze midair above, held back by an invisible barrier as his Daoist Aperture drained completely dry.
His Spirit Core ruptured, spilling its stored karma outward.
Kre… Kre…
His pouch writhed with life—the skittering of caterpillars, the tearing of berries.
But that wasn't all he heard.
BHOOMF—BHOOMF.
Abyssal wings slammed into the air.
Dark purple feathers scattered as a titanic figure perched upon the obsidian bridge.
If the vulture leader he had met before was the size of a sedan—
Then the beast before him was as large as a mid-sized garage.
Its shadow swallowed him.
Talons descended—aimed straight for his eyes.
At the last possible instant, Qiren's eyes snapped open. His body twisted violently as one hand seized his satchel.
He rolled toward the berry beside him, barely clearing the strike.
The five-winged beast was already upon him, its beak stabbing down in a precise, killing thrust meant to pierce his skull and end it in a single peck.
Qiren didn't flinch.
He hurled the berry upward.
The Guardian Beast choked—
"Damn it!" Qiren cursed as his hair shot outward, lashing around the bird's neck. He yanked himself forward, slamming into its throat.
!!!
"CAW—!!!"
Its beak snapped shut before reopening with a deafening screech that tore through the air, rattling Qiren's ears as the beast launched skyward.
"Screeeeck!!!"
Iron-Tread Strike!
Qiren's hair hardened, its strands sharpening into lethal filaments.
They pierced into the bird's mouth as it clamped down, slicing clean through flesh despite the reinforced Qi coating.
Woosh!
Using the momentum, Qiren swung onto its back.
He plucked a loose strand of hair, hardened it further, then summoned flames along its length.
"Azure Needle!"
"CAWW—!!!"
The blazing needle snapped.
The bird's hide was too tough.
The five-winged beast surged into the storm, abandoning restraint as it fled toward the lightning-churned clouds.
How strong is this thing…?
Qiren glanced down and saw his ritual circle below—the invisible barrier already fractured, collapsing as the beast broke free.
He'd thought it would struggle to escape the boundary. Instead, it had needed only a single leap.
"I might have underestimated you after all," he muttered with a crooked smile. "Heh… but I can't stop now—after setting everything up."
He slammed his satchel against the creature's neck.
The frame tore open midair—
—and a bush of veins exploded outward.
Thick, green cords of leafy tendrils burst from the satchel like roots breaking through soil, slick with karmic residue.
They wrapped around the bird's neck, wings, and beak in a heartbeat, snapping tight with wet, meaty cracks.
The Guardian Beast screeched as the vines constricted, burrowing beneath feathers and scale, anchoring deep into muscle and bone.
Black miasma bled through the bindings as the curse took hold.
Its wings spasmed.
Then stopped.
The beast fell.
Both of them plunged straight down—crashing into the ritual site below.
The Guardian Beast struck back-first, its massive body slamming into the obsidian bridge and crushing Qiren beneath it.
"AAAAA—!"
Pain exploded through him. Bones screamed. Breath fled his lungs.
Still, he chanted.
"I offer this vessel's soul as sacrifice—marked by pain, soaked in misfortune, struck by my hand and pierced by my flesh!"
His head strained upward, trying to tear free from his shoulders, but he couldn't lift it. His vision swam, black spots swallowing the edges as agony flooded his body.
"Be gone, guardian of the obsidian road. Welcome the evil of misfortune—you are no longer free to live."
The vines surged again, swelling, thickening—entangling not only the bird, but Qiren himself.
"Be gone, guardian of the obsidian road. I do not welcome your spirit in this vessel."
His consciousness flickered. He blacked out—then forced himself back.
"Be gone, guardian of the obsidian road. I have no need for your twisted soul!"
The cacoon of leaves and branches expanded, fully encasing the bird's body—and tightening around Qiren as well.
Above them, another five-winged bird descended, circling closer.
The tendrils twitched.
Several lashed upward, snapping toward it with predatory intent.
The second Guardian Beast shrieked in alarm, barely biting through the encroaching vines before wrenching itself free. It hovered above the writhing mass for a long moment—watching, calculating—
Then fled into the storm, fear driving its wings.