Juwon stood still amidst the lingering crimson mist, the remnants of Tianyu’s existence dissolving into the air. The acrid scent of blood filled his lungs, but his breath remained steady. He lifted his hand, wiping his face with the back of his sleeve, smearing the warm crimson streak across his cheek. His fingers twitched slightly from the aftershock of his attack, but his body was already adjusting, stabilizing.

  Then, the silence broke.

  A faint ringing echoed through the ruined chamber.

  Juwon’s eyes flickered toward the sound. A phone, tucked away in a corner, its screen glowing softly amidst the destruction.

  His lips curled slightly. How convenient.

  He walked toward it, boots splashing lightly in the pool of blood beneath him. As he picked up the device, a voice, sharp and authoritative, cut through the receiver.

  “What’s the status?”

  Juwon let out a slow, amused exhale before bringing the phone to his ear. His voice was calm, almost bored. “The status?” He chuckled. “Tell your king he needs to step down himself if he wants to even touch my hair.”

  Silence.

  Then, a sharp intake of breath. The voice on the other end hardened. “Who the hell is this?”

  Juwon wiped the last of the blood from his chin, leaning against the nearest wall. “Oh? Didn’t recognize my voice? Guess your golden boy didn’t report in.”

  A hiss of static crackled through the phone, followed by the barely restrained fury of the man on the other end. “Where is Tianyu?”

  Juwon exhaled dramatically, tilting his head. “Tianyu? Ah, the guy who kept running his mouth? Hold on, let me show you something.”

  He pressed the video call button on the phone, linking the video feed to the Hei Long Command Center.

  Deep within an underground bunker in a distant country, a high-tech war room flickered to life. Massive screens lined the walls, displaying global security feeds, mission reports, and encrypted communications.

  At the center, the Death Mark Unit Commander stood rigid, his scarred face twisted in fury. Around him, elite Hei Long officers exchanged uneasy glances, the tension in the room thick as static.

  Then—

  The screen changed.

  A pool of blood. A shredded uniform. A severed hand, fingers still twitching.

  The command room fell into a suffocating silence.

  A few officers shifted uncomfortably. Some averted their eyes. Others stole nervous glances at one another, unease creeping into their once-stoic faces.

  The commander’s jaw clenched so tightly it threatened to snap. His breathing turned ragged, his grip on the table tightening.

  Juwon’s voice, laced with mocking amusement, broke the silence.

  “There’s your precious talent.”

  A vein bulged at the commander’s temple, his face turning an unhealthy shade of red. “You… you bastard…!”

  Juwon tilted his head, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. His blood-streaked grin widened as he leaned closer to the camera. “What’s wrong? Not the sight you were expecting?” His voice dropped to a whisper, venomous and taunting.

  “You should be proud. Your prodigy didn’t run. He fought. He bled. He screamed.”

  Juwon chuckled darkly, his voice low and measured. “And now, he’s nothing but a stain on this floor.”

  The commander’s breathing was ragged, erratic, his knuckles white as he gripped the console. His body trembled—not just with rage, but with something more insidious. "You have no idea who you are messing with. The demon king will not let go of this resentment".

  Juwon leaned in, his glowing eyes locking onto the camera, almost looking uninterested. “Your king has no place in this world.” He let the words settle, slow and deliberate. “And I will make sure of it. Because I am coming for him next”

  The screen went black. The call was cut.

  Directly above the command centre, all the way on the other side of the globe in a country distant from China, a grand, shadowed chamber stretched infinitely in all directions, its architecture carved from obsidian and dragon bone.

  At the centre sat The Demon King.

  His fingers tapped rhythmically against the armrest of his throne, the sound echoing softly through the vast hall. His face remained obscured, but his blood-red eyes gleamed like dying embers in the darkness.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  A single figure knelt before him, his head bowed low in subservience. “Your Majesty… they were unsuccessful.”

  Silence.

  The air itself seemed to hold its breath.

  Then—

  A low chuckle. Slow, deliberate.

  Then deeper.

  Then louder.

  The Demon King threw his head back and laughed.

  “Hah… Hahaha… HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

  His laughter rolled through the chamber like distant thunder, filling every corner with its weight.

  The kneeling subordinate stiffened, his muscles coiling with tension.

  The laughter ceased abruptly, the shift in energy suffocating.

  A new voice cut through the chamber—sharp and filled with barely contained rage. The Death Mark Unit Commander’s face flickered onto a nearby holographic screen.

  “Your Majesty! Your Majesty! We should send Hei Long reinforcements immediately—”

  The Demon King raised a hand.

  Instantly, silence.

  His voice dropped into a dangerous growl.

  “And what?”

  The commander swallowed hard. “…We will avenge Tianyu and—”

  The Demon King leaned forward slightly. His voice, dripping with disappointment, was barely above a whisper.

  “Look at you. A few insects have riled you up so much. The Heavenly Demon Cult have always followed the way of the strong."

  "They....were just weak.”

  The commander’s breath hitched, his eyes darting away for just a fraction of a second.

  The Demon King exhaled, leaning back into his throne, placing his hand on his chin. His voice returned to its usual, smooth timbre.

  “Still… I have a feeling we will clash soon.” He let the words settle, his lips curving into a slow, knowing smile. “Keep watching for now.”

  The screen faded to black.

  Yuxian’s Desperate Fight – A Battle Against Xuan Mo

  The adversary stood motionless; his red eyes gleaming in the dim chamber. The lifeless bodies of drained soldiers lay at his feet, their Qi siphoned into his own. A faint, eerie hum resonated from his form, the remnants of their stolen energy coiling around him like living shadows.

  Yuxian gripped his sword tightly, analyzing Xuan Mo’s stance. Every instinct screamed at him—this man was no ordinary executioner.

  “You really like making an entrance, don’t you?” Yuxian muttered, forcing a smirk.

  The figure's thin lips curved into an amused smile. “I am Xuan MO Executioner of the Death Mark Unit. You should feel honored. The Heavenly Demon King deemed you worthy of my execution.”

  Yuxian exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders. “Yeah? Well, I’ll try my best to disappoint him.”

  Xuan Mo moved first, his body gliding forward unnaturally, as if carried by the very shadows of the room.

  Yuxian barely had time to react before a dark palm strike shot toward his chest. He twisted just in time, feeling the raw force of Qi barely graze his ribs, the air around the attack crackling.

  Yuxian retaliated immediately.

  His sword flashed, the edge shimmering with condensed Qi as he executed Heavenly Crescent Fang, aiming straight for Xuan Mo’s exposed flank.

  The blade met resistance—not from flesh, but from a dense, swirling barrier of dark energy that pulsed around Xuan Mo’s body.

  Before Yuxian could adjust, a sharp pain erupted in his wrist. He looked down to see Xuan Mo’s fingers pressed lightly against his arm—Bone-Corrosion Palm. A sickly heat spread through his bones, a deep ache forming almost instantly.

  Gritting his teeth, Yuxian kicked off the ground, flipping backward to create distance.

  Without warning, Xuan Mo flicked his wrist, and dark Qi oozed from his fingers like thick, corrosive ink, spreading into the air with a sickly shimmer.

  Yuxian dashed forward, but the moment he entered Xuan Mo’s radius, his limbs felt heavier—his movements sluggish. His breath hitched as he realized what was happening.

  The Hollow Suppression Field.

  A crushing force weighed down on his Qi flow, making it harder to circulate energy efficiently. Yuxian gritted his teeth, forcing his energy through sheer willpower.

  “Not bad,” Xuan Mo mused, stepping forward. “But I wonder—how long can you last?”

  Yuxian didn’t respond. Instead, he activated Heavenly Crescent Fang, his sword flashing in a bright arc as he slashed through the suppressive energy.

  The blade sank into Xuan Mo’s chest.

  A direct hit.

  For a moment, Yuxian thought he had gained the upper hand. But then—

  Xuan Mo smiled.

  Before Yuxian could react, a pulse of Bone-Corrosion Palm erupted from Xuan Mo’s wound.

  Yuxian’s wrist fractured instantly, a searing pain lancing up his arm. He barely managed to stumble back, gasping as the sensation of decay spread through his bones.

  “Predictable,” Xuan Mo whispered.

  Yuxian knew he had to turn the fight around quickly. He suppressed the pain and saw an opening—Xuan Mo’s left flank was exposed. If he could just land a decisive strike…

  Summoning the last of his strength, Yuxian lunged forward, blade aimed for Xuan Mo’s heart.

  A flash of crimson light.

  Before Yuxian’s blade could land, dark Qi exploded from Xuan Mo’s chest—it was a trap. A tendril of black energy pierced into Yuxian’s ribs, locking his Qi flow.

  His body convulsed. His sword slipped from his grip. His legs gave out beneath him.

  Xuan Mo stepped forward, placing a cold hand against Yuxian’s throat. His grip was light—mocking. “Did you really think you could keep up?” he whispered.

  "Do you know why you couldn't beat me? It is because I have a core"

  Xuan Mo raised his other hand. Within his hand, he curled a sphere of Qi resembling dark mud.

  "Once you are able to form a core you are able to give your Qi unique properties. This is of course apart from the fact that our Qi applications are more efficient and the amount of Qi we can hold is higher as well. The difference between a core formation practitioner and foundation establishment is difference between heaven and earth"

  Yuxian was struggling to breathe. His neck started turning gray.

  Yuxian’s vision blurred. He tried to move, tried to summon Qi—but nothing responded.

  His heartbeat faltered.

  "Ugh! I guess........This is it huh…"

  CRASH!

  The wall behind them exploded, sending debris flying.

  Both Yuxian and Xuan Mo turned in shock.

  Juwon was seen through the smoke, standing atop two Hei Long soldiers, two crushed beneath his boot, then one dangling helplessly from his grip.

  His crimson eyes glowed through the dust, his face smeared with blood, his knuckles still dripping from his last kill.

  Juwon effortlessly lifted the Hei Long soldier, then snapped his neck with a sickening crunch.

  Xuan Mo’s smirk vanished.

  Juwon smirked, "I leave you alone for a few minutes and I find you in this state?"

  Yuxian struggled to smile, "I am not a monster like you, idiot"

  Mo's voice was low, uncertain for the first time. “You… I heard Tianyu was facing you… What happened to Tianyu?”

  Juwon tilted his head, stepping over the fallen soldiers and cracking his knuckles.

  His voice was almost playful. “Step over here. This father will send you over to him.”

  Xuan Mo’s fingers twitched. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple.