Death Cultivator : Rise For Revenge!

Chapter 6

The crimson-black aura surrounding Huo Tian Xian slowly dissipated, like a dying fire. He stood amidst the wreckage of the Meng Clan’s Great Hall, surrounded by debris and the dying embers of the secret scroll in the hearth. The Meng Clan was crippled. Their Patriarch, Meng Jiu Ning, lay broken on the floor, his spiritual core shattered beyond repair. Outside, the screams of the remaining disciples had faded into whimpers of absolute terror.

Victory was his, yet it left a bitter aftertaste. Tian Xian stared at the fireplace, which held nothing but grey ash.

"You think the destruction of your core is enough to pay for what you’ve done?" Tian Xian stepped closer, his boot connecting with Meng Jiu Ning’s side to flip him over. "No. You will live. You will watch as the Meng Clan is erased by your own enemies, simply because you were too weak to protect your honor."

Meng Jiu Ning could only manage a raspy wheeze, tears of regret and agony carving tracks through the soot on his face. He knew all too well that living as a spiritual cripple was a fate far more agonizing than death.

Tian Xian ignored him. He leaped from the ruins, returning to the gates where the primary slaughter had taken place.

The thousands of cultivators from the Meng and vassal clans had either fled or lay as husks, drained by his demonic power. The only figure still standing was Huo Li Yu, now free from her crimson cage atop the gatehouse.

Tian Xian saw her. He leaped onto the roof, and for the first time since his dark awakening, a genuine—though fleeting—smile touched his lips.

"Sister," he called out softly.

Huo Li Yu didn't hesitate. She threw herself into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably against his chest.

"Xian! You’re... you’re alive! I thought I’d lost you forever! But... this power..." Li Yu trailed off, her voice trembling, afraid to touch upon the source of his obvious pain.

Tian Xian returned the embrace, the long-lost warmth of kinship seeping through his cold exterior. "Do not worry, Sister. I am alive. And I am strong. I will protect you now."

Li Yu pulled back slightly, searching his face with worried eyes. "What happened to you, Xian? This strength... it isn’t standard spiritual cultivation. It’s... demonic energy, isn't it?"

Tian Xian averted his gaze. He chose to lie, at least for now.

"I discovered an ancient inheritance, Sister. It was the only way to survive and take back what was stolen from us," he said curtly. He knew she wouldn't fully believe him, but this lie was the kindest mercy he could offer.

Suddenly, Li Yu’s eyes widened. She remembered.

"Xian! Earlier, when you fought First Elder Meng Shan..." She grabbed his arm urgently. "I saw it! Something fell from his robes. Your Spiritual Core! Meng Jiu Ning lied—they never threw it away!"

Tian Xian’s expression turned deathly serious. He looked down at the earth, fractured by his titanic clash with the Elder.

"Where?"

Li Yu pointed toward a jagged fissure near where Meng Shan had collapsed. Tian Xian dropped down instantly. Using the tip of his blade, he pried the crack wider.

There, nestled in the dark earth, lay a small crystal radiating a faint, silver light—Huo Tian Xian’s original, pure Spiritual Core.

As he picked it up, a strange, disjointed connection flickered through him. The core felt alien, weakened. The Mengs had clearly siphoned much of its power, but the foundation remained intact.

"So this is it..." Tian Xian turned the silver bead over in his hand. He remembered the phantom pain of the moment it was brutally ripped from his body.

"They must have kept it as a trophy," Li Yu explained, having followed him down. "Or perhaps to trade it to a Great Sect in exchange for favors."

"They’ve corrupted its output, but the root remains," Tian Xian muttered. The core was a symbol of his past—of his life as a disciple of Light. Now, he was a creature of the Abyss. He decided not to absorb or destroy it, tucking it instead into his inter-dimensional pouch.

"We must leave. The Meng Clan is finished, but this place will soon draw vultures."

Before departing, Tian Xian dragged the broken Meng Jiu Ning back to the charred remains of the Great Hall. He pinned the Patriarch’s hand to the floor with his boot.

"The scroll you burned," Tian Xian hissed. "What was in it?"

Meng Jiu Ning let out a pained roar. "I... I will never tell you! It is a secret... a secret far greater than your petty Huo vendetta!"

"What secret?" Li Yu asked, her voice tight with anxiety.

"A secret... about the hidden organization that truly controls this territory!" Meng Jiu Ning coughed up black blood. "We were just pawns! The Huo Clan... you were destroyed because your Patriarch refused to surrender the Ancient Key to them!"

Tian Xian’s eyes narrowed. An Ancient Key? A hidden organization?

"Who are they? Name them!" Tian Xian tightened his grip around Meng Jiu Ning’s throat.

Meng Jiu Ning smiled a bloody, twisted smile. "They... they have eyes and ears everywhere. The fall of the Meng Clan... will draw them like moths to a flame. I am already dead, but you, demon-child... you will face their wrath! They are more powerful than anything you can imagine! Their name... is The White Shadow Gate!"

With a final, manic, choked-off laugh, Meng Jiu Ning’s head lolled back. He was dead—strangled, yet wearing a look of grim satisfaction for planting the seeds of a new terror in Tian Xian’s heart.

Tian Xian released the corpse with a snarl of frustration. His primary vengeance was settled, but he had inherited a far greater, invisible enemy.

"The White Shadow Gate," he whispered, his grip tightening on his demonic blade.

In the chaos-stricken Qihua City, Huo Tian Xian and Huo Li Yu moved like shadows, leaving the carnage behind. They took temporary refuge in a secluded inn on the outskirts.

While Li Yu slept from sheer exhaustion, Tian Xian sat alone, staring at the hidden silver core.

Ancient inheritance... Pure core... The Key... The White Shadow Gate...

The pieces of the puzzle refused to fit. The demonic power within him felt increasingly restless, urging him northward, toward the forbidden, dark territories. He remembered the ethereal voice from the Black Forest: "Find the seed hidden in the most sacred of places."

Suddenly, he felt a violent shiver down his spine. It wasn't a spiritual pulse, but a cold, clinical sense of impending doom.

He rushed to the window, parting the curtains just a crack.

In the night sky, hovering over the smoking ruins of the Meng estate, a group of cultivators dressed in immaculate white appeared. They were silent, moving with unnatural synchronicity, their faces obscured by featureless silver masks.

Their leader raised a hand. In an instant, the fires consuming the Meng manor were extinguished as if by a vacuum. They began to sift through the rubble with terrifying efficiency.

They weren't looking for survivors. They were looking for the scroll.