Death Cultivator : Rise For Revenge!

Chapter 12

Under the fading moonlight, Huo Tian Xian stood at the forest’s edge, overlooking the ruins of the Huo Clan—the place once known as the Realm of Clarity. What was once a sanctuary of peace was now draped in a chilling aura and a deathly, oppressive silence.

Several operatives of the White Shadow Gate, clad in their signature white robes and silver masks, patrolled with disciplined precision. They moved soundlessly, like hunting wraiths, scouring the remnants of the Meng and Huo estates for any overlooked clues.

Tian Xian steeled his heart. The searing pain of trauma was quickly replaced by a cold, sharpened focus. He closed his eyes, activating the War God’s Trace that Grandmother Qiu had recently instilled in him.

The War God’s Trace did not amplify power; instead, it concealed it. Tian Xian forced his feral Demonic Energy into submission, binding it with thin threads of the residual chi from his old Spiritual Core.

When he opened his eyes, his aura had shifted. He no longer radiated the suffocating pressure of a demon; he appeared as a common, low-level cultivator—a weakling, exactly like the Huo Tian Xian of old.

This should be enough to deceive them, he thought. They are looking for the surging signature of a Great Demon, not a gutter-tier disciple.

He slipped into the ruins.

The once-magnificent wooden gates were now charred husks, collapsed in the dirt. The main courtyard, where he had played as a child, was stained with the blackened, dried blood of his kin. Shattered remains—whether of Huo disciples or Meng invaders—lay scattered like discarded refuse.

Every step brought back a haunting echo: his mother’s whimpers, his father’s final roar, and the whistle of the blade that had ended it all.

He pushed the agony aside. Focus. The Void Jar.

Tian Xian moved like a shadow toward his father’s study in the main hall. The room had been largely spared by the fires, but it had been ransacked. His father’s desk was overturned, and cultivation manuals lay torn and scattered across the floor. Tian Xian scanned every corner, ensuring no White Shadow agents were lying in wait.

He approached the dark corner Li Yu had described—the one place they were never allowed to touch.

There, hidden behind a stack of water-damaged scrolls, sat an old ceramic jar. It was plain, unadorned, and a dull, earthy brown. Its humble appearance was a stark contrast to the elegant décor usually found in the Huo household.

Tian Xian knelt and reached for it. The jar was cold and surprisingly heavy. He lifted the lid.

Empty.

He exhaled a breath of relief. The White Shadow Gate had overlooked it.

Suddenly, a prickle of danger crawled up his spine.

Whoosh!

A spiritual blade hissed through the air from the broken window, aiming straight for his head.

Tian Xian ducked instinctively. The blade thudded into the wall behind him with clinical precision.

"I knew you would return, Demonic Cultivator!"

A White Shadow operative vaulted through the window. He was unmasked, revealing a hard, handsome face with eyes that were cold and vacant.

"You underestimated my stillness," Tian Xian said, rising slowly.

The agent snorted. "Your concealment technique is impressive, but you forgot one thing: the stench of demonic blood cannot be masked by low-tier sacred arts."

Tian Xian cursed silently. The War God’s Trace could fool spiritual senses, but his Demonic Energy left an olfactory trail—the metallic, pungent scent of a slaughterhouse.

"The Reserve Key!" the agent barked, his eyes locking onto the jar in Tian Xian’s arms. "Hand over the jar, and I will grant you a swift death!"

Tian Xian clutched the jar to his chest, shielding it with his Demonic Blade. Conflict was inevitable.

The agent was a far more lethal combatant than any Meng disciple. He utilized the Thousand Shadow Technique, flickering around Tian Xian with dizzying speed, making him nearly impossible to track.

Tian Xian retaliated with brutal, sweeping strikes of his Demonic Blade. He abandoned all subtlety; the study was instantly filled with flashes of crimson light and clashing shadows.

"Surrender! I will take it from your corpse!" the agent roared.

Tian Xian spun his blade, unleashing a shockwave that shattered the agent’s shadow clones. Seeing an opening, Tian Xian vanished, reappearing behind the man. He swung—not to kill, but to strike the man’s back with the flat of his blade.

CRACK!

The operative was sent flying through the wall, crashing into a stone statue in the garden. He was alive, but his spine was shattered.

Tian Xian glanced outside. The commotion would surely draw every agent in the vicinity.

I have to move!

He gripped the jar tightly. He realized the jar didn't contain a physical object like a scroll; the secret had to be on the jar itself. His father wouldn't have left this without a clue.

He flipped the jar over. The rough ceramic base felt uneven. He scraped at it with his fingernail, peeling away a thin, dried layer of clay that had been used to hide the bottom.

Beneath the clay lay a fine, nearly invisible engraving: an ancient symbol consisting of seven broken lines encircling a central sphere.

This is it. The Reserve Key.

As he burned the symbol into his memory, a shout erupted from the courtyard.

"He’s here! Huo Tian Xian is in the Realm of Clarity! Seal the exits!"

A large contingent of White Shadow agents, led by the formidable Yan Su, was closing in.

Tian Xian had no time left. He couldn't risk them finding the original. He slammed the ceramic jar onto the stone floor, shattering it into a thousand unrecognizable shards.

With the Key safely stored in his mind, Tian Xian bolted from the ruins, leaving behind the chaos and the frustrated fury of the White Shadow Gate. He had to get back to the White Cloud Valley. Grandmother Qiu was the only one who could decipher what he had found.