187 A Fellow Prisoner?

187 A Fellow Prisoner?

187 A Fellow Prisoner?

My breathing was short. My arms hung limp at my sides. Blood and gore soaked into the dirt, the coppery scent of death thick in the air. The 112th Bronze Squadron was gone. Neither routed nor defeated in battle. Instead, we were annihilated from one man to every single soldier.

All by the hands of a single man.

He stood barefoot in the muck with long black hair cascading to his waist and robes as dark as midnight embroidered with strange white sigils. One hand remained outstretched. It had caught my fist mid-swing and stopped it as if it were nothing.

"Are you with the rebellion?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

He regarded me with indifference. "I don’t know of any rebellion. Or war. And I don’t care. These trifling matters are beneath me."

It happened too fast to comprehend. In seconds, everyone was gone.

Yuen Fu lay split open, his intestines tangled in the mud like discarded ropes. Ding Shan’s head rolled to a stop near my foot, his lifeless eyes still wide in disbelief. Others had tried to flee, but the man had merely exhaled… and they burst like bags of meat.

I struggled to wrench my hand from his grip, but it didn’t budge. No matter how hard I twisted, yanked, or jerked, his fingers might as well have been cast from celestial iron. I had reached the level of a first-rate martial artist thanks to Yuen Fu’s teachings. In a world where cultivation was replaced by martial skill, that meant something. I wasn’t the strongest with my standard of martial arts, but I wasn’t weak either. Yet, I was suppressed so easily.

Combined with my inherited insights and the fragments of Divine techniques I could still muster, I should’ve stood a chance, even against an Expert, or I’d dare say even a Master. But this was neither an Expert nor a Master.

This man was a monster, plain and simple.

I clenched my teeth and surged energy into my core. With a low growl, I channeled War Smite through my fist. The air cracked as force exploded from my knuckles. His hand flew open under the pressure, and he was pushed back barely.

My feet hit the ground. I ran. I wasn’t a coward. I was a soldier. A child, yes, but still a soldier. I knew the risks when I signed up. Death was a given. Considering what kind of life a soldier led, I didn’t expect a happy ending.

But I wanted to live.

If not for my own sake, but for my parents and sister.

I used Flash Step, blinking through space, trying to gain distance.

It didn’t work.

He reappeared effortlessly before me, gripping my throat with the same cursed hand. I kicked and scratched, but it was useless. My feet dangled. He stared at me with too calm eyes. “Become my disciple,” he said.

I wanted to scream at him, curse at him, but my breath was gone. I was young, weak, and so-so-very-mortal! I didn’t want to die here. But I had no weapon that could reach this man. My spear had snapped in two the second it struck his body. The martial arts I've recreated from my Paladin Skills have been rendered useless.

All I had was will and pain.

So I used both.

With a snarl, I brought my palm down with Thunderous Smite, smashing into the crook of his elbow as I imbued life force to the strike. Bone cracked. His leverage broke. I dropped, landed hard, and kicked off the ground, my foot bursting faintly with power.

“Flash Step.”

The force from my heel surged up, rocketing me back. I flipped in midair and landed badly, tumbling onto one leg. My shin screamed in protest. I tried to channel Zealot’s Stride, but nothing came. Too spell-like. The magic of that world didn’t fully exist here. Not anymore.

I collapsed, face-first into the dirt. My leg was swelling, and I realized I'd been hit by something without noticing it.

"That was unexpected," I gritted my teeth as I pathetically crawled away. "Damn it!"

This body was weaker than I thought.

He walked toward me.

“Become my disciple,” he said again. "And this pain would finally end."

That voice was calm, emotionless, and final.

Part of me wanted to spit in his face. The Paladin in me shouted to fight to the last breath. I owed it to the dead, Yuen Fu, Ding Shan, and all of them… to resist! But the human in me? The kid? He was scared.

However, these emotions didn’t really matter ultimately.

Honestly, I wasn't expecting to feel this compelled so strongly. The gamer in me, the fragmented part still addicted to levels and rare drops, looked at this monster and saw a challenge. A future boss fight. A loot piñata wrapped in endgame content. That's why I have to survive this encounter.

I stood, my leg trembling.

Blood dripped down my chin.

“…Fine,” I said. “I’ll be your disciple.”

This world was a corpse starved of qi, a graveyard of dreams where cultivation was little more than a myth. Even breathing felt like a wasted effort, much less attempting to draw power from the empty skies or dead earth. Raising one’s stars? That was an absurd fantasy. But everything changed when I met Yuen Fu. It turned out the real mistake wasn’t the lack of qi. Instead, it was the method. Not even Mana Road Cultivation yielded results here. All the conventional paths failed. But martial arts… martial arts were different.

With Yuen Fu’s tutelage, I discovered that martial arts were not just physical. Instead, they etched themselves into the very core of one’s existence. Muscle memory, that’s what he called it, but it was more than reflex. It was intent made flesh. Through that practice, I clawed my way up, and somehow, I managed to break into the Seventh Star. My body bore the skills of a first-rate martial artist, at least to the standards of this withered realm, and that gave me hope. Maybe not for glory, but for survival. That was enough.

“The ceremony is simple,” the man said, his voice patient like a predator before a pounce. “To acknowledge me as your master, kneel and kowtow. Once, twice, and thrice. With each, cry aloud—‘If the heaven permits and the hell denies.’”

He approached with deliberate slowness, each step heavy with expectation. I lowered myself to the ground, knees pressing into the dust, and bowed low. But before my forehead could meet the earth, instinct surged. Power erupted from my core, not as a trickle, but a flood. I gathered it all into my palm and struck.

“War Smite!”

My hand slammed against his guard, one arm raised just right on time. This time, he flew farther. I had poured my very life essence into that strike. It was a reckless sacrifice, but one that bought me precious seconds. I didn’t waste them. Turning on my heel, I bolted, using Flash Step again and again. The world blurred around me as afterimages rippled behind each step. It might have looked suicidal, turning my back in a fight, but I didn’t care. I needed distance, and speed was my only ally.

Suddenly, my Divine Sense flared, a whisper of danger brushing the edge of my awareness. I ducked low just in time. A palm-shaped crater burst into the ground where I had been a breath before. Another came, and another, each one invisible to the eye but screaming death through the sense that had evolved since I arrived in the Hollowed World.

"Flee, little beast," remarked the strange man as he hurled more invisible palm strikes. "Hurry, little beast, or you might die..."

These were the same strikes that had massacred my comrades. I was sure of it. My pulse pounded in my ears, every muscle screaming, but I kept going. Each step bled life from me, each dodge drew deeper from my already-starved reservoir.

Then the warning in my mind shifted and sharpened.

I planted my foot hard and skidded to a halt, my bruised leg flaring in agony. I gritted my teeth and turned. He was already in front of me, as if teasing me with his speed. His index finger was extended and aimed at my eye. I didn’t flinch. If he was going to take it, then let him, but I’d take something in return. Power surged through me once more as I activated Divine Speed with my life force. I pivoted and executed a Flash Parry. His finger veered aside. Without a pause, I launched a Divine Smite with my fist, burning more of my life away. Pain could come later. For now, I punched straight into his abdomen, since I couldn’t reach his chest anyway.

My fist tore through flesh and muscle. He grunted and smiled through the blood. Then his muscles clenched, trapping my arm still stuck inside his abdomen like a vice. That instant, I felt danger. It was imminent and overwhelming! I bit back a scream and poured power into my other arm.

“Thunderous Smite!”

I swung my free remaining hand as if it were a sword.

I slashed my own trapped arm free with raw force, the limb tearing at the elbow. Blood fountained, but I didn’t stop. Flash Step launched me backward, staggering miserably. A few paces away, I watched the strange man pluck my severed arm from his abdomen with a calmness that chilled me.

The man casually stored it in a glimmering Storage Ring.

He could only be a... Cultivator. My breathing came ragged. My lips were cracked. I was on the brink of exhausting myself entirely, life force dangerously low. I dared to speak, buying time, maybe even hope.

“Who… are you?”

The man smiled, almost fondly. “Just like you. I am a prisoner. Seems I misread you. I thought maybe, just maybe, you’d serve as my proxy and help me escape this damned place.”

I stayed silent. He was saying too much and giving away too freely. What was the reason for him being so cooperative? It was either that he was confident… or didn't think much of me. Maybe both.

He kept talking. “What did you do to be trapped in this godawful place? Offend a Supreme Being?” A chuckle followed, dry and humorless. “No need to be coy. It’s obvious from your skills. You’ve forged something unique… different from the Longevity Path. Burning life like kindling... I imagine you’re new here. Fresh meat. This must be your first encounter with another of your kind.”

My knees buckled. I dropped, not out of submission, but because my body couldn’t take the weight of my recklessness anymore. It hurts! It hurts so much! My young frame had limits, and I had exceeded them. Even so, I glared at him. He laughed.

"Who... are you?!" I asked the second time with venom in my voice as I glared at him hatefully.

“You want a name? Fine. You’ve earned that much, junior. I’m Ru Qiu… the one and only Heavenly Demon.”

I rose to my feet as I laughed miserably. The ground wobbled beneath me, but I kept my voice steady. “The last guy who called himself ‘Heavenly Demon’ in front of me got obliterated into kingdom come,” I said coldly. “How about you just go die?”

Empty threats wouldn’t save me, not with how close I’d come to burning out and hurting my lifespan. But fear was sometimes a sharper weapon than power, and right now, I needed to look like I still had fangs. I forced Blessed Regeneration into activation, throwing caution and reason out the window as I expended more of my life force.  My body screamed, but I didn’t stop. I remembered Exalted Renewal, how I’d once used it to end it all.

That suicidal gamble in my last life taught me something no teacher ever could: life force, when handled brutally, could become an alternate source of power.

Even here, even now...

My stump writhed, bone stitching itself in violent spasms as flesh and sinew surged back. My arm reformed. The ache in my bruised leg faded. The cracked muscles pulled together. I clenched my new hand and stood taller, letting the flicker of confidence spark in my eyes. The more I looked like someone dangerous, the less likely he’d test me again.

Ru Qiu only chuckled. “Heavenly Demon, you say? In the outside of all things?” he repeated, brushing phantom dust from his robes with casual grace. “Well, the younger generation loves idolizing their predecessors. Though I imagine you heard the name through one of Hell’s smear campaigns. They hate me a lot, you see...”

He spread his arms with exaggerated innocence. “I might look like this, but I assure you… I’m a good guy!”

I didn’t believe a word of it. His tone was all sugar and sunshine, but his eyes were voids, dead and rotting with a hunger no mortal knew.

“You honestly don’t look like much,” I replied.

He grinned wider. “That’s fair. The qi in this world’s thinner than a beggar’s soup. Honestly, it’s a miracle I even reached the Spirit Mystery Realm. But you’ve got it worse.” His smile twisted as he pointed a finger at me. “You’re still in the Martial Tempering Realm, aren’t you? But I can't be too sure, really... Judging by your performance, you could probably go toe to toe with Peak Masters here, those whose battle with strength that nearly matches mine. But that’s only if you keep spending your life force like a fool.”

“You slaughtered my friends,” I snapped, glaring at him. “I’m going to kill you for that.”

He burst into laughter, a rasping, mean-spirited sound that echoed off the hollow stones like mockery made manifest. “Friends?” he spat, still chuckling. “You mean those pets you dragged around? Those things weren’t friends. They were cannon fodder with names.”

Every word grated like sandpaper on the inside of my skull. I tightened my jaw. I wanted to lunge at him again, but that wouldn’t help. No threat of mine would land unless I made him believe he’d bitten off more than he could chew. The problem was that I had nothing left… no spells, energy reserves, or tricks from my kit. My ultimate techniques needed Spell Slots, and even my suicidal combos were useless here. Reflect, Sacrificial Zeal, Exalted Renewal… all locked behind doors I no longer had the keys to.

“Let me help,” whispered a voice in the back of my head.

I froze. That hadn’t come from outside. It was within, slithering behind my ears, and coiling like black smoke inside my thoughts.

“Jue Bu?” I murmured, barely audible. "You perverted skull... are still alive?"

“That bastard,” came the skull’s familiar voice, dripping with venom. “I hate that guy’s guts. So just this once, let me help.”

My fingers twitched. The stench of death that was clinging to my soul for expending my life force recklessly seemed to retreat as something ancient stirred beneath my skin. Ru Qiu was still grinning, but I no longer saw just him. I saw a door creaking open inside me, and on the other side was Jue Bu, skull-bound and fury-filled.

And this time, he was on my side… maybe…