This blade is freaking amazing! Wen Ran’s heart raced as the overwhelming aura of the Crimson Whisper Blade washed over him. It felt like a force of nature, both terrifying and exhilarating. Almost instantly, he understood why the two guardians had sent him here. But at the same time, he couldn’t shake the feeling of confusion. Why? Why would they allow someone like me, someone who had walked the demonic path, to grow even stronger with this blade? His mind spun with questions, but one thought echoed louder than the rest.
Why would they give me such a treasure, knowing what I am?
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Then, something clicked in his mind. He remembered the young woman who had led him to the sect, the one who had invited him in. He recalled the faint demonic aura she carried, something that had initially gone unnoticed. Could it be that this sect was secretly aligned with the demonic path? Or maybe, they allowed the cultivation of any path, so long as it didn’t conflict with the sect’s goals? The realization hit him like a thunderclap—this sect wasn’t what it appeared to be, but that didn’t matter to him.
Why would it? he thought, shaking the questions from his mind. This is perfect.
He had tried so hard to keep his true nature hidden, but so far, despite a few bumps along the way, his life in the sect hadn’t been terrible. Better than being a slave in the Fang clan, he thought bitterly, feeling a pang of resentment. At least here, he had some measure of control over his own fate.
Before he could reflect further, another wave of energy slammed into him, and he stumbled back, his feet sliding on the floor. The force pushed against him, but rather than panic, a smirk tugged at the corner of Wen Ran’s lips. Fighting back, huh?
He stood tall, the challenge only fueling his determination. He’d never run from a fight, especially not with a treasure like this right in front of him. He would rather die than let this opportunity slip away. This blade, this power—it was his now, and he wouldn’t back down.
But what surprised him more than anything wasn’t the powerful aura of the blade—it was Luo Feng. Wen Ran glanced to the side and noticed his so-called sworn brother was struggling. His face was flushed with exertion, and his body swayed as though the pressure was more than he could handle.
Could it be that he’s a fully righteous cultivator? Wen Ran thought, his brow furrowing as he observed Luo Feng’s discomfort. The pressure from the blade’s aura seemed to be affecting him much more than it had affected Wen Ran.
Luo Feng’s discomfort made sense, of course. He was, after all, a cultivator who followed a righteous path, one that likely rejected any form of demonic influence. Unlike Wen Ran, who had long ago embraced the power of the demonic path, Luo Feng’s cultivation seemed bound by strict codes of morality. The contrast between them couldn’t have been starker in this moment.
Wen Ran’s smirk deepened. He didn’t know how Luo Feng would react to the growing power around them, but he knew this: no matter the cost, he would claim the Crimson Whisper Blade. And with it, he would continue down the path that had always been his destiny. Whether it was a righteous path or a demonic one didn’t matter. The world would have to bend to his will, just like everything else in his life.
With that unyielding resolve, Wen Ran reached forward, his fingers brushing the hilt of the Crimson Whisper Blade. The moment his fingertip made contact, an unimaginable pain shot through his body, as if the blade itself were rejecting him. It felt like the very soul of the weapon was screaming, You are not worthy. The searing agony surged through him, threatening to pull him back, to make him doubt himself, but Wen Ran wouldn’t be deterred.
Who am I? he thought with a fire burning in his chest. I am the one who slayed gods from east to west in my past life. No lowly sword will stand in my way.
His body trembled under the weight of the pain, but his spirit, forged through countless lifetimes, was unshakable. He would not let this weapon defeat him. He would not let this sword reject him. With a roar that echoed in his mind and soul, Wen Ran shouted, "Submit to me!"
As his words rang out, the air around him seemed to shudder and warp. It wasn’t just the force of his voice—it was as if reality itself bent to his will. To Luo Feng, who watched from the side, it looked like the very air around Wen Ran shattered, breaking apart in a surreal, mesmerizing display of energy. An illusion, yes—but an illusion that carried the weight of a powerful force. The mingling of dark, evil energies formed a veil, enveloping Wen Ran, hiding him from view. Inside that veil, Wen Ran was locked in a battle of endurance—his body, mind, and spirit strained to their limits.
His spiritual energy was being consumed at an alarming rate, swirling around him like a vortex, threatening to drain him completely. The agony intensified, and the dizziness crept in, making him feel as if he would black out at any moment. But Wen Ran’s resolve was more powerful than any of that. His heart burned with an unquenchable fire, his determination like steel.
And then, in that moment, the strange object in his dantian pulsed. A dark, eerie aura erupted from it, crashing into the sword like a tidal wave. The sword seemed to recoil, its aura shivering as if in fear of whatever was inside Wen Ran. The blade’s resistance faltered under the overwhelming pressure of his power.
The blade trembled. For a brief, fleeting moment, it seemed to acknowledge him. And then, with a soft shudder, it calmed. The blade was forced to submit.
Wen Ran’s grip tightened around the hilt, the weapon now fully in his grasp. Almost instantly, a rush of power surged through his veins, more potent and intoxicating than anything he had ever felt before. The aura of the Crimson Whisper Blade merged with his own, flowing through him like liquid fire. It felt like he could slice through the heavens themselves, cutting through time and space.
Of course, it was just an illusion fueled by the overwhelming surge of energy, but in that moment, Wen Ran truly believed it. He felt the raw, untapped power coursing through him, and for the first time, he realized that this was only the beginning. With this blade, he could reach new heights—he could carve his name into the very fabric of the world.
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