Heavenly Rebirth: The Outcast Return

Blood on the Altar

Chapter 3: Blood on the Altar

Chains burned against his skin.

Xuan Long’s eyes snapped open.

He was bound to a cold, floating stone altar surrounded by glowing formation symbols — ancient and precise, pulsing with golden energy that paralyzed his meridians.

Around him, masked cultivators stood in a circle, their robes emblazoned with the sigil of an all-seeing golden eye.

The Pavilion of Heaven’s Eye.

So they were real.

A secret order rumored to control sects from the shadows. They didn’t kill with blades. They controlled minds, rewrote memories, pulled strings.

They controlled Mei Lin.

Above him, a man in gold and white robes stepped forward. His face was concealed behind a mask shaped like a serene Buddha, but his voice was cold steel.

“You bear the mark of the Devourer,” the man said. “It was sealed for a reason.”

“And you wear the mask of a coward,” Xuan Long spat, “speaking of seals while hiding your face.”

The man raised a hand — and lightning lashed across Xuan Long’s body. He screamed, his bones vibrating under the force.

“You were not meant to awaken in the Abyss,” the masked man continued. “We ensured your body was broken, your bloodline dormant. But something interfered.”

Xie Wutian…

“Your rebirth has disrupted the balance,” the man said. “So we will correct it.”

He reached into his robe and pulled out a curved dagger, its blade etched with the same runes as the altar.

“This dagger once carved the hearts of gods. With it, we will remove your core, dissect your soul, and bury your essence forever.”

The circle began to chant.

Light swirled.

Runes ignited.

No. Not like this.

Xuan Long clenched his jaw. The War Immortal’s voice echoed in his skull, low and grim.

“They’re sealing your spirit. You must burn through the formation. You must... devour.”

“But I’m bound—”

“There is something within you. Something older than even me. Let it out. Let it… break.”

Xuan Long closed his eyes.

He focused on the space behind his heart — the sealed ember his mother once touched.

He remembered her voice: “When you awaken, it will hurt. But only pain can unseal it.”

He bit down on his tongue until blood flowed — then screamed.

A wave of black and crimson energy exploded from his chest.

The runes on the altar cracked. The air shattered like glass. The masked cultivators stumbled back, shouting.

From the center of his chest, a symbol appeared — a burning red eye surrounded by black flame.

The true mark of the Devourer.

Chains melted.

Xuan Long rose, flames swirling around his body like a cloak. His hair floated, his eyes glowed red, and his aura became suffocating.

The masked man slashed with the dagger.

Xuan Long caught the blade with his bare hand.

It sparked. Cracked. Then shattered into dust.

“You shouldn’t exist,” the man hissed.

“No,” Xuan Long said. “But now that I do… you won't.”

He thrust his palm forward — and the Devour Vein activated.

A vortex of dark qi swallowed the man whole. His body twisted, bones snapping as his essence was ripped from him and absorbed.

The other cultivators fled in horror.

But one wasn’t fast enough.

A younger masked man tried to leap away, but Xuan Long blurred forward, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him against the altar.

“Who controls the puppet strings? Who controlled Mei Lin?!”

The young man trembled. “I–I don’t know! I only follow commands!”

Xuan Long narrowed his eyes — then used the War Immortal’s soul probe technique.

A black tendril pierced the man’s forehead. Images flashed.

A golden hall. A scroll with Mei Lin’s name. A hand placing a control talisman between her brows. And a voice…

"She’s the perfect pawn. He’ll never see it coming."

A new face emerged — a man with white hair, one blind eye, and a scar that split his jaw.

Xuan Long released the cultivator.

He didn’t kill him.

He wanted the Pavilion to send a message.

The Devourer lives. And he's coming for them.

He escaped the altar as it crumbled, leaping between floating rocks with raw power coursing through his limbs.

Above, he spotted a glowing staircase leading to the outer Abyss cliffs — a secret exit. He sprinted up, faster than any mortal blur, reaching the surface as moonlight pierced the sky for the first time in weeks.

Fresh air. Freedom.

But no peace.

From the horizon, Crimson Cloud Sect’s banners flew.

They were under siege — by unknown cultivators in dark red robes. Screams echoed across the valley. Explosions rocked the ground.

Xuan Long stood still, the wind ruffling his tattered robes.

They were the ones who cast him away.

But they were also where his vengeance began.

“Not yet,” he muttered. “First… I hunt the puppeteer.”

Then, a low hum echoed behind him.

He turned — and saw it.

Floating above a ruined tree was a strange black orb, pulsing with ancient energy. It was not of this realm.

The War Immortal gasped. “That’s not from the mortal plane. That… that’s a Soul Beacon.”

“A what?”

“Only used by ancient races to call warriors across dimensions. If it’s active… someone or something just learned you're alive.”

The orb cracked.

A single whisper leaked out:

“He awakened. The Devourer walks again.”

Then it shattered — and the sky above shifted, rippling like disturbed water.

A tear appeared in the sky — a black rift.

From it descended a being cloaked in darkness, with eyes of molten gold and voice like a death bell:

“Xuan Long… by ancient decree, your blood must die.”