Void Veins: The Forbidden Ascension

Chapter 4: The Trash Disguise

Dawn seeped through the gaps in the forest canopy, casting a bleak, grey light over the world. Lin Ye emerged from the Forbidden Forest with his appearance deliberately ruined. His tunic was torn in several places, his face streaked with mud and fresh scratches, his hair a matted mess. He looked exactly like a stray, half-dead piece of trash—exactly what everyone expected of him.

 But beneath that mask of exhaustion and grime, his body hummed with new power. Abyssal Initiate Stage One had granted him physical endurance far beyond any ordinary mortal, and his sharpened senses allowed him to pick out people’s presence from dozens of meters away. He could hear servants whispering as they prepared the ceremony pavilion, smell the expensive incense and costly tea drifting from the main hall, and sense the faint qi fluctuations of passing cultivators.

 Everything felt… slow. Weak. Predictable.

 He returned to the Discard Pavilion just in time, washed the blood and dirt from his face in a hasty splash of cold water, and put on his best clothes—which were still shabby and faded. Then, he walked toward the Ceremony Grounds with his head bowed and steps heavy, playing the part perfectly.

 Lin Feng was already there, standing near the front, a smug smile plastered on his face. When he saw Lin Ye approaching, his eyes lit up with cruel anticipation.

 “You came,” Lin Feng said, loud enough for those nearby to hear. “I thought you’d run off or die in the woods. Turns out you still have the nerve to humiliate yourself in public. Fine. I do enjoy a cooperative spectacle.”

 A few of the other young cultivators chuckled. Lin Ye gave no reaction. He simply took his place at the very back of the crowd, looking frail and unsteady—while inside, he observed everything with a predator’s calm, calculating focus.

 The ceremony began. Elder Lin, an old man with a white beard and the aura of Qi Condensation Stage Eight, stepped onto the platform. He recited the procedure in a flat, monotone voice, clearly bored by this yearly ritual. One by one, the young clansmen were called forward, placed their hands on the Aptitude Testing Stone, and had their results announced.

 Most reached Qi Condensation Stage One to Three. A few talented ones hit Stage Four or Five. Lin Feng, of course, achieved Stage Six, earning applause and praise from the elders. He glanced straight at Lin Ye, his smile brimming with triumph.

 “Lin Ye,” Elder Lin called, his voice thick with weariness and undisguised disgust.

 Lin Ye stepped forward. His steps seemed heavy, as if every movement cost him great effort. He approached the Testing Stone, his hand trembling—not from nerves, but from careful acting. He laid his palm against the stone’s cold surface.

 The stone was meant to glow according to one’s cultivation level. For the “old” Lin Ye, there would have been no light at all. But he was no longer that Lin Ye.

 He channeled a thin wisp of his Abyssal Initiate energy into the stone—not orthodox qi, not anything the clan’s testing system could recognize. It was dark, hidden, indistinguishable from emptiness. The stone flickered once—faint, almost invisible, like a dying candle—then went dark entirely.

 Elder Lin sighed, his expression a mix of disappointment and grim satisfaction. “As expected. Zero aptitude. No sign of cultivation whatsoever. Lin Ye, by clan law, you are declared unworthy of retaining clan membership. Your identity token is forfeit. You have until sunset to vacate your quarters and leave the estate.”

 Hisses and whispers rippled through the onlookers. Some looked at him with false pity. Others with open revulsion. Lin Feng beamed, complete triumph shining in his eyes.

 Lin Ye bowed his head, his posture collapsing as though the world had just ended. “I… understand, Elder,” he said, his voice cracking, thick with perfectly feigned despair.

 But beneath that bowed head, his eyes were wide open—and there was no despair in them. Only cold calculation. They thought he was defeated. They thought he was broken. They had no idea he had just won the first round.

 Because as he walked back through the crowd, passing Lin Feng, he deliberately “stumbled” and bumped his cousin’s shoulder. A fleeting brush of contact. Accidental—or so it seemed.

 In that split second, Lin Ye used a micro-version of the Breath of the Abyssal Maw. He did not drain Lin Feng’s qi—that would have been far too obvious. Instead, he fed on Lin Feng’s emotions. Satisfaction. Arrogance. Superiority. Those feelings were a form of spiritual energy too, and to the Demon Way, they were sweet, rich fuel.

 Lin Feng felt a fleeting chill, as though a cold breeze had brushed his skin, but he paid it no mind. He was far too busy savoring his victory to notice such a small anomaly.

 Lin Ye, however, felt the difference. That stolen emotional energy burned like fresh fuel in his meridians, strengthening his Abyssal Initiate Stage One. More importantly—he now had a “taste” of Lin Feng. His emotional patterns. His psychological weaknesses. Information that would prove invaluable later.

 He returned to his place at the back of the crowd, still playing the part of the broken, discarded trash. But inside, he smiled.

 They had cast him out. They had given him freedom. And freedom—for a newly born predator—was the greatest gift of all.