By the third sunrise since his return, Zhu Yan walked among the living once more — not as a prince of a sect, but as a shadow wrapped in flesh.
The outer provinces buzzed with the heat of market noise and sect recruitment banners. In the distance, nestled between two barren mountains, lay the city of Qianlong — a neutral ground where rogue cultivators bartered spirit stones for forbidden pills, and clans sent their hidden agents to recruit talents… or assassinate rivals.
It was the perfect place for a dead man to disappear.
Zhu Yan stood at the city's gate, draped in a plain black robe, a hood casting a faint shadow over his sharp, reformed features. The crimson glow in his eyes had faded, concealed by a subtle veil of demonic qi. He looked unassuming — another wandering cultivator trying to survive the cruel world.
And yet, the manual pulsed beneath his skin. Every heartbeat echoed like war drums. Every step drawn forward by whispers only he could hear.
"Observe. Learn. Grow. Kill."
Inside the city, he was just another nobody. But he'd learned that even nobodies could gut giants, if their blade was sharp enough.
The taverns were filled with rumors. Murmurs of sects rising and falling. One in particular chilled his bones.
"Did you hear? The Crimson Sect's been wiped out."
Zhu Yan listened from a corner, sipping watered-down tea.
"They say a demon rose from within and slaughtered them all."
"No, no — it was their own sect master who did it. Cleaned house. The Crimson Sect was hiding something… dangerous."
They didn't know. Not yet.
And he preferred it that way.
A hand slid across the table.
"New in town?" said a woman's voice — low, husky, and dangerous.
She wore a fox mask, her robes adorned with silver embroidery, and her cultivation barely hidden. Foundation Realm, at least. Not someone to be taken lightly.
Zhu Yan didn't flinch. "Just passing through."
"Liar," she smirked. "You stink of blood and secrets."
She tossed him a wooden token — engraved with a snarling wolf.
"Go to the Broken Moon Arena tonight. You want spirit stones? You want a name? Fight. Kill. Survive."
Zhu Yan caught the token.
His lips curled into a faint smile.
A stage? Blood? Masks?
Perfect.
Let the world believe Zhu Yan was dead.
Tonight, the demon returns under a different name.