(Part 1: The Silent Night and the Sword's Whisper)
The night was still.Moonlight spilled across the rooftops of the quiet village, painting silver veins upon thatched wood and stone. In the distance, a dog barked once, then fell silent again, as though even it feared to disturb the calm that had descended.
Inside a small hut at the village's edge, Xiao Wang sat motionless. His eyes were open, yet unfocused, reflecting the pale shimmer of the moon through the window. The faint scent of rain still clung to his hair — remnants of his battle in the Forbidden Forest.
On the table beside him lay a torn robe, a blood-stained strip of cloth, and—wrapped carefully in silk—a fragment of a blade.That blade pulsed faintly, as though it still breathed.
Across the small room, his little sister Xiao Mei stirred beneath a thin quilt."Brother…" she murmured sleepily, rubbing her eyes. "You're not sleeping again?"
Xiao Wang's lips curved into a faint smile. "Go back to sleep, Mei'er. I just… need to think."
"But you're hurt," she pouted, her voice small and innocent. "You always get hurt."She pushed herself up and shuffled toward him, clutching her worn blanket like a shield. "I heard the neighbors again. They said you'll never be able to cultivate. That you're cursed."
Xiao Wang froze. For a heartbeat, the air thickened.Then, he reached out and gently tapped her forehead. "Let them talk," he said softly. "Words don't break bones. Sleep now, little one."
Xiao Mei yawned and nodded, nestling beside him on the floor. Within moments, her breathing steadied — a soft, rhythmic reminder of the only person who still looked at him without disappointment.
Xiao Wang turned his gaze back to the fragment.
The faint red glow inside the shard seemed alive, as though it were… watching him.
He had seen that light before.
It had appeared when he was moments from death — when the Level 5 Beast tore through his defenses, and his broken body was cast into the mud.
He had thought he'd die there, forgotten and mocked.
But the Sword Fragment had ignited, and the black orb had devoured everything — the monster's body, its Qi, its soul… even the very air had trembled before that power.
And then—silence.
Now, as the world slept, that same silence returned, thick and heavy, coiling around him like a serpent.
He took a slow breath and sat cross-legged.The world narrowed to the beat of his heart, the whisper of wind, and the faint pulse of the sword fragment beside him.For a moment, peace.
Then—
Hum.
It began as a faint vibration deep within his chest. His Qi stirred, swirling slowly, reluctantly. But there was something else within that current — something alien.
A shadow that wasn't his.
Xiao Wang's brows furrowed. "What is this…" he whispered.
The vibration deepened.
The sword fragment shuddered, glowing brighter — gold at first, then deep crimson, then black. The glow flickered, as though light itself feared to remain.
Then came the voice.
Ancient. Calm. Neither male nor female. Each syllable resonated like the tolling of a celestial bell.
"You devour to live… and live to devour. So tell me, mortal — what will you become when nothing is left to consume?"
The words rippled through his mind like thunder across still water.
Xiao Wang's eyes snapped open. His heart pounded so hard he thought his ribs might shatter. He looked around — the room was unchanged. Xiao Mei still slept, peaceful and unaware. But the voice… it was inside him.
Inside his very soul.
"Who… are you?" he managed, his voice trembling.
The fragment rose from the table, floating before him. The air warped around it, drawing in motes of light like fireflies sucked into a void.
"Names are for the living," the voice murmured. "I have not been alive for eons."
The shard hovered in front of his forehead, and for the first time, Xiao Wang saw something within the red glow — faint silhouettes, countless in number, writhing and whispering, devoured long ago.
A chill crawled down his spine.
The voice continued, still serene, still impossibly vast.
"You touched my edge with blood. You awakened me. And now, you are bound to hunger itself."
The air in the hut turned cold. The flickering candle beside Xiao Mei went out with a faint hiss.
Xiao Wang's breathing quickened. "Bound? To what?"
"To me."
The word echoed through his bones like a commandment.
The sword fragment pulsed once, then streaked forward — merging into his chest in a flash of crimson light.
He gasped, arching backward.
For an instant, he saw stars — entire constellations burning and dying behind his eyelids. He felt Qi surge through him, chaotic and violent, as if trying to tear him apart.
His veins glowed faintly under his skin.
"Your body remembers death," the voice said. "Let it remember hunger instead."
Xiao Wang's eyes widened. His consciousness blurred.
And somewhere in the depths of his being, something stirred — a darkness vast and endless.
(Part 2: The First Devouring)
A deep, otherworldly hum reverberated through Xiao Wang's soul.
The moment the blade's crimson light merged into his chest, his world shattered into fragments of chaos and flame.
His Qi channels burned.
His bones trembled.
Every vein felt like it carried molten metal instead of blood.
He tried to scream, but his voice dissolved into the roar of energy coursing through him. The small hut shook violently—dust fell from the ceiling, wooden beams groaned under invisible pressure.
"Accept it," the ancient voice intoned, calm and steady amid the storm. "Or be devoured by it."
Xiao Wang's teeth clenched. His vision blurred with pain as tendrils of black mist erupted from his body, swirling through the room like smoke alive with purpose. Each wisp contained fragments of what he'd devoured—the beast's Qi, its bloodline essence, and something darker, heavier… hunger itself.
He felt it—the sword's hunger.
It was not just energy. It was will.
A cold, infinite void that desired only one thing: to consume.
The voice whispered again, now softer, almost intimate.
"You took what was not yours. You killed, yet your heart did not waver. Such mortals are rare. Tell me, Xiao Wang—what do you wish to devour next?"
His pulse thundered in his ears.
The question lingered inside him, dangerous and tempting.
He wanted power. He wanted to rise. He wanted to crush those who had sneered at him for being "Qi-barren," who spat at his family's name. He wanted to erase the words "worthless" and "trash" from existence itself.
And yet… he hesitated.
"…I want strength," he whispered through gritted teeth. "Enough to protect her."
The black mist quivered. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.
"Then devour."
The command struck like lightning.
His consciousness plunged into darkness, and the Devouring Orb appeared before him—spinning, alive, vast as a small sun yet cold as a corpse.
The same black hole that had saved him in the forest now floated at the center of his soul, spinning endlessly, consuming strands of light and Qi that dared drift too close.
Xiao Wang stared at it in awe and terror.
"This… is inside me?"
"It is you," the voice replied. "The hunger born from the blade has chosen you as its vessel. But beware, Mortal Child. Hunger that grows unchecked becomes oblivion."
Before he could answer, the orb pulsed violently.
A flood of images burst into his mind—ancient battles, countless corpses, celestial realms collapsing into ash. In every vision, a figure wielded a sword of the same red-black light… a blade that swallowed heavens and cut through time.
"Is that… me?"
"No. That is what you could become."
The orb spun faster, absorbing fragments of energy within his dantian. Xiao Wang's cultivation, once dormant, suddenly ignited. His meridians expanded, shattered, and reformed under the pressure of the sword's will.
Qi surged through him, denser and purer than anything he had ever felt.
The first level of Qi Refinement broke. Then the second. Then the third.
Within moments—
BOOM!
The hut's door burst open, and the night wind howled through like a beast. The faint aura of a low-ranked cultivator now burned around Xiao Wang, flickering between crimson and void-black.
He gasped, clutching his chest. His pulse steadied. The pain receded. And for the first time in his life—he felt alive.
His senses sharpened.
He could hear every creak of the floorboards, the flutter of a moth's wings outside, the quiet heartbeat of Xiao Mei as she slept peacefully through the storm.
The voice murmured again, its tone distant and satisfied.
"The first devouring is complete. You have taken a step upon a path that has no end."
"What… path?"
"The path of consumption. The blade does not serve you, boy—it tests you. Every time you feed it, you walk closer to the truth of what it means to be Devourer."
The glow around Xiao Wang dimmed, fading back into his skin. The hut fell silent once more.
He opened his eyes.
They were different now—dark, yet faintly luminescent, like stars reflected on still water.
He exhaled slowly. "So this… is cultivation?"
"No," the voice replied with a faint chuckle. "This is beginning."
Then, silence.
The sword fragment, now reformed into a complete blade, rested quietly on the floor beside him—its surface dark as night, its edge gleaming faintly crimson. It pulsed once, almost like a heartbeat, before going still.
Xiao Wang stared at it for a long time. Then he smiled faintly—a calm, almost serene expression that did not belong to a boy who had just brushed against death.
He stood, the dim moonlight tracing his silhouette.
"From now on," he murmured, gripping the sword's hilt, "no one will ever call me trash again."
Outside, the wind carried his words into the distance.
The stars trembled faintly, as if the heavens themselves had heard his vow.
(Part 3: The Whisper of Blood - Sword and Soul Bound)
The night outside was silent.
Too silent.
The moment Xiao Wang's vow drifted into the wind, the sword on the floor trembled faintly — as though the heavens themselves had heard his declaration. A ripple of crimson light pulsed from its blade, illuminating the tiny hut in a hue that felt both divine and sinister.
Xiao Wang frowned and crouched beside it.
The sword's edge shimmered with strange patterns — like living veins moving beneath the metal surface. The air thickened, heavy with Qi that didn't belong to the mortal realm.
"You're awake again… aren't you?"
No answer came. Only that faint, rhythmic pulse.
He reached forward carefully, fingers brushing the cold steel — and his vision warped.
A thousand voices screamed inside his mind.
War cries, dying breaths, the sound of swords clashing beneath collapsing skies.
Then, a whisper… one so soft it brushed directly against his soul.
"So… you live."
The voice was neither male nor female — it was old. Ancient. Calm.
Like a deity that had seen the rise and fall of countless worlds.
Xiao Wang froze. "Who are you?"
"You should be asking… what am I."
The sword's light dimmed, leaving only its faint red aura, like dying embers at the edge of night.
"Once, I drank the blood of gods and devoured the bones of demons. Once, entire sects trembled at the echo of my name. But now… I am nothing but a shadow, bound to a mortal boy."
The words were heavy, filled with bitterness that seemed to pierce through time.
"Do you regret it?" Xiao Wang asked quietly.
"Regret?" The voice almost laughed. "I was forged from regret. Every soul I devoured became part of my existence. Their screams… are my lullabies."
The words made Xiao Wang's spine shiver. "Then why choose me?"
For a moment, silence.
Then the blade pulsed again, slower, softer.
"Because… you carry hunger in your heart."
The air around him grew cold. Shadows thickened. The faint scent of blood filled the hut though no wound had opened.
"You have been betrayed. Cast aside. Humiliated. And yet, your heart does not break — it devours."
"The world tried to bury you, Xiao Wang. I only gave you the means to dig yourself out."
He tightened his grip on the sword, jaw clenched. The words struck too close to the truth. Every humiliation, every beating, every sneer — they replayed behind his eyes like ghosts mocking his weakness.
But that weakness was gone.Now, he felt power coiled within him — dark, alive, patient.
"Then we have a deal," he said slowly. "I'll feed you… and you'll give me strength."
"You misunderstand."
The sword's whisper became colder.
"This is not a contract. It is a bond — a devouring oath. You and I are one. Every time you consume… I consume. Every soul you destroy… echoes within me."
"And if you fall… so shall I."
A faint, red sigil appeared across his chest — like molten lines of divine script burning into his skin. He gasped, gripping his shoulder as the pain spread through his veins.
"The oath is complete."
He staggered backward, heart pounding. His blood felt heavier, thicker — as though every drop now carried part of that ancient hunger.
For a brief moment, he thought he saw it — a figure standing behind him.A silhouette of a man cloaked in shadow, holding a sword of pure void.
The same blade that now rested in Xiao Wang's hands.
When he blinked, the image was gone.
He took a deep breath and steadied himself. "Then tell me, ancient one… who was your last master?"
A pause. Then a faint echo of laughter.
"My last master?"
The voice grew quieter, deeper — almost reverent.
"He was the one who sought to devour the heavens themselves… but the heavens devoured him first."
A chill crept up Xiao Wang's spine. "What was his name?"
"Names are meaningless to eternity."
Then, silence.
The blade went still again, its glow fading until only moonlight reflected off its edge.
Xiao Wang exhaled. He could still feel its presence in his soul — heavy but familiar, like a second heartbeat.
Outside, the first light of dawn began to pierce the forest's mist. Birds stirred awake, and the world slowly breathed again.
He looked down at his hands — faint traces of dark Qi flickered between his fingers.
Raw power. Real power.
And deep within his soul, the Devouring Orb pulsed — faint but steady, like the echo of a sleeping beast.
That morning, Xiao Wang buried the remains of the beast he had killed. Its blood had long since dried, but he still knelt before it.
"Your strength won't be wasted," he murmured. "From this day, everything I take… will be used to climb higher."
As he rose, the air around him shifted.
A strange aura followed him — regal, yet dangerous. Even the wind seemed to bow slightly as it passed him.
The sword at his waist whispered again, this time softer, almost approving.
"Ambition… yes. Feed it. For only those who devour their limits can command destiny itself."
He smiled faintly. "Then let's begin."
From the distance, the faint bells of the Azure Sky Sect rang across the valley — the same sect that had cast him aside.
His gaze turned cold. "The day will come," he said quietly, "when they kneel."