Black Wind Ridge burns.
The fire from the Blood Slave Clan's compound lights up Qingxuan Planet's night sky, smoke curling into the starless dark. Fang Yan walks through the ashes, his father's hammer still dripping with blood, his golden eyes cold as he scans the wreckage. The elders are dead, the guards fled, but he knows the real enemy isn't here—not yet. The Heavenly Dao's pawns are everywhere, and the Blood Pond Demon, the clan's twisted patron, still lurks in the mountain's depths.
His mother's voice echoes in his head: Your blood is stronger than Heaven itself. But right now, it feels like a curse. The chaos in his veins rages, untamed, threatening to consume him. He needs to control it—to turn this wild rage into a weapon. And first, he needs to kill the demon that the clan fed with innocent blood.
He follows the stench of rot and brimstone down a narrow path, the hammer's weight grounding him. The path winds through jagged rocks, and the air grows thicker, hotter, until he reaches a cave mouth carved into the mountain. Green light flickers from within, and a low, guttural growl shakes the earth.
The Blood Pond Demon emerges before he can enter, its form a grotesque mix of scales and sinew. It stands ten feet tall, its skin black as pitch, its eyes glowing with the same foul energy as the clan's elders. A long, barbed tail flicks back and forth, and its claws drip with a venom that sizzles on the stone.
"Human," it rumbles, its voice like gravel. "You killed my servants. You think you can stand against me?"
Fang Yan doesn't reply. He grips the hammer tighter, the chaos in his veins flaring. He remembers the stories the slaves whispered—how the demon feasted on children, how it granted the elders power in exchange for blood. He remembers his parents, their bodies cold, their last words a plea to survive.
He charges.
The demon swings its tail, but Fang Yan ducks, rolling beneath it. He slams the hammer into the demon's leg, the chaos energy crackling through the metal. The demon screams, a sound that splits the night, and stumbles back. Black blood oozes from the wound, smoking as it hits the ground.
"You little worm!" the demon snarls, swiping at him with its claws. Fang Yan leaps back, but the claws graze his shoulder, tearing through his tunic and leaving three deep gashes. Pain flares, hot and sharp, but he ignores it. He runs up the cave wall, pushing off with his feet, and brings the hammer down on the demon's head.
The impact sends a shockwave through the mountain. The demon staggers, its eyes glazing over, then roars and grabs Fang Yan in one massive hand. Its claws dig into his ribs, and Fang Yan gasps as the venom seeps into his skin, burning like fire. He can feel his strength fading, his vision blurring—but then he thinks of his parents, of their love, of their hope for him.
The chaos in his veins erupts.
Golden light bursts from his body, pushing the demon back. He breaks free of its grip, his hammer glowing with black-and-gold energy. He swings again, and again, each blow fueled by grief and rage. The demon's scales shatter, its bones crack, and finally, with a scream that echoes across the ridge, Fang Yan drives the hammer through its chest.
The demon collapses, dissolving into a cloud of black smoke that dissipates into the night. The green light in the cave fades, and the stench of brimstone lifts. Fang Yan falls to his knees, his shoulder throbbing, his ribs aching. The venom still burns, but the chaos in his veins calms, as if sated by the kill.
He looks down at his hands—covered in blood, his own and the demon's—and feels a flicker of something besides rage. Relief. Vindication. The first step of his vengeance is complete.
But as he stands, he hears a rustle in the bushes. He tenses, gripping the hammer, but it's not a threat—only a young girl, no older than twelve, with matted brown hair and ragged clothes. She's one of the clan's slaves, the ones who were kept in the huts, too young to work, too small to be sacrificed.
She stares at him, her eyes wide with fear and awe. "You… you killed it. You killed the demon."
Fang Yan nods, his voice hoarse. "Go. The clan is gone. You're free."
The girl hesitates, then runs forward, throwing her arms around his legs. "Thank you. Thank you." She pulls back, her eyes shining. "My name is Xiao Qiao. Will you take me with you? I have nowhere to go."
Fang Yan looks at her—small, scared, alone—and sees himself. He remembers what it was like to be trapped, to have no one to turn to. He thinks of his parents, who would have taken her in without a second thought. But he's not his parents. He's a fugitive, a wielder of chaos, a target for the Heavenly Dao. He can't protect her.
"I can't," he says, his voice hard. "It's too dangerous."
Xiao Qiao's face falls, but she nods, understanding. "I understand. But… please. Take this." She pulls a small pouch from her pocket, filled with dried berries and a tiny vial of clear liquid. "It's healing salve. My mother made it. It will help your wound."
He takes the pouch, his throat tight. "Thank you."
She smiles, then turns and runs into the night, toward the distant plains. Fang Yan watches her go, then looks back at the cave. The Blood Pond is inside, a murky pool of black water that reeks of blood. He walks in, pouring the salve on his shoulder—its cool touch easing the pain—and then fills the vial with water from the pond. His mother once said that demon blood and chaos energy could be used to forge powerful artifacts. He doesn't know how, but he'll learn.
When he emerges from the cave, the sun is rising. The fire on the ridge has died down, leaving only ash and smoke. He slings the hammer over his back, tucks the vial into his pocket, and starts walking—away from Black Wind Ridge, away from Qingxuan Planet, toward the horizon where the sky bleeds into violet.
His mother was right. His blood is stronger than Heaven. But strength alone isn't enough. He needs to learn, to grow, to traverse the stars and gather power. He needs to become something the Heavenly Dao can't ignore—something it fears.
As he walks, the wind blows, carrying the scent of distant worlds. He doesn't know where he's going, but he knows where he's headed: toward the Void Rift, toward the stars, toward the Heavenly Dao.
The demon's bloodbath is over. But Fang Yan's journey has just begun.
Chaos has been unleashed. And the multiverse will never be the same.