Death Cultivator : Rise For Revenge!

Chapter 11

In the serene heart of the White Cloud Valley, Huo Tian Xian’s life shifted from that of a vengeful hunter to a forced disciple. Under Grandmother Qiu’s tutelage, the training was nothing short of brutal.

"You must balance this darkness, boy!" Grandmother Qiu shouted, her usually soft voice now ringing with authority.

Tian Xian staggered, his muscles twitching. He attempted to rein in his Demonic Energy, forcing the dark crimson flow to follow the natural paths of his meridians. But every time he gained a fleeting moment of control, the Demonic Energy thrashed like a wild beast, desperate to erupt and lay waste to his surroundings.

"That energy is not an inheritance, Tian Xian," Grandmother Qiu explained, her eyes observing his every move. "It is the unleashed Demonic Seed. It hungers for destruction. If you do not dominate it, you will become nothing more than a soulbound killing machine."

Li Yu sat in the distance, watching her brother with a heavy heart. She knew Tian Xian endured this agony for her and for the shattered honor of the Huo Clan.

Grandmother Qiu eventually elaborated on the War God’s Trace.

"The War God’s Trace is not an offensive technique, but an art of internal suppression. It is a legacy created by your ancestors to bind and tame the Demonic Seed in every generation of the Huo bloodline. Your old Spiritual Core is the key."

She returned Tian Xian’s fractured Spiritual Core to him.

"This core was the prison forged by your forefathers for this very seed. When it was forcibly removed, the prison crumbled. You must use this damaged core as a Spiritual Anchor. It will pull the wild demonic chi back into the correct pathways, following the blueprint of the War God’s Trace."

The true training began. Tian Xian sat cross-legged, the cold, broken core resting in his palm. He reached deep, attempting to summon the ancient imprints of his clan’s cultivation while struggling to hold back the tides of the Demonic Seed.

Days passed in a blur of agony. He was caught between two clashing forces: the cold, feral Demonic Energy and the sacred energy of the core that initially refused to bond with its dark successor.

"Focus! Remember why your father did this! Remember your purpose!" Grandmother Qiu’s voice pierced through the chaos whenever Tian Xian teetered on the brink of collapse.

A week later, despite his internal wounds, Tian Xian began to show progress. He could finally contain the Demonic Energy within his body, preventing it from leaking out into the environment.

"Good, boy," Grandmother Qiu praised. "Now, we turn to the second priority: the Reserve Key."

She shared what she knew. "The Reserve Key has no physical form. It is a set of instructions hidden within ancient symbols. Only the Huo Patriarch knew how to decipher them. The scroll Meng Jiu Ning burned was undoubtedly a copy of those instructions."

"Then how do we find it?" Tian Xian asked.

Grandmother Qiu smiled mysteriously. "If I knew exactly where it was, I would have taken it long ago. But I know where your father tended to hide his most precious secrets."

She turned to Li Yu. "Young Mistress, you are the Patriarch’s daughter. Do you remember an object in your old home, in the Realm of Clarity, that everyone was forbidden to touch? Something that felt... out of place?"

Li Yu closed her eyes, searching through the fragments of a childhood now turned to ash.

"There was..." she whispered, her voice trembling. "In Father’s study. There was an old ceramic jar. We were strictly forbidden from touching it. It was always kept in the darkest corner of the room, and... it was always empty. No ashes, no flowers, just a void jar with a sealed lid."

Grandmother Qiu nodded vigorously. "The Void Jar. It must contain the ancient symbols! Your Patriarch was clever. Who would suspect an empty jar?"

Tian Xian’s expression hardened. "The ruins are crawling with the White Shadow Gate. They’ve likely scoured both the Meng and Huo estates by now. They must have found it."

Grandmother Qiu shook her head. "No. The White Shadow Gate seeks massive spiritual artifacts like the Starlight Stone. They wouldn't waste time on an old ceramic pot. They only know the Key exists somewhere in the ruins because of the scroll."

"They don't know the Key is inside that jar," she continued. "They will search for it as a last resort. You must be faster than them!"

That night, sleep eluded Tian Xian. He sat outside, practicing the hand seals of the War God’s Trace. He realized he had to return to the Realm of Clarity—a place of trauma and ghosts.

"I have to go back there, Sister," Tian Xian told Li Yu, who sat beside him. "That jar is our only hope."

"I’m coming with you," Li Yu said firmly.

Tian Xian shook his head. "No. The White Shadow Gate is a far greater threat than the Meng Clan. You must stay here with Grandmother Qiu. She will keep you safe."

"But you'll be alone!" she protested.

"I have the Demonic Seed and the Demonic Blade. I am strong enough to slip in," Tian Xian replied. "But I need your help."

He pulled out his fractured Spiritual Core—the anchor for his demonic power.

"This core is the only thing in the world that does not react to my Demonic Energy, yet is connected to it. And you, Sister, are the only person I love and trust in this world. Take it."

Tian Xian placed the old core into Li Yu’s hand.

"Keep this safe. If something happens to me—if I am consumed by the Demonic Energy and become a monster beyond control... Destroy this core. It will sever my connection to the Demonic Seed and end everything."

Li Yu stared at the object, tears welling in her eyes. "Xian, don't talk like that!"

"I have to. I will not risk hurting you, Sister. This is the key to my safety, and yours."

Li Yu finally took the core, clutching it to her chest as she nodded through her tears.

With a heavy heart but renewed resolve, Huo Tian Xian prepared to return to the site of the tragedy. He was going back to the Huo Clan’s Realm of Clarity. This time, he wasn't coming for revenge—he was coming to face his past and seize the last hope remaining.