C3 Nine Deaths and One Life!
The Heart Refining Path was a mysterious and eerie corridor where not a single ray of light penetrated. The only companions were the damp rock walls, the oppressive air, and the ever-present chill and darkness.
A mouse lay collapsed in the frigid blackness, seemingly cut off from the rest of the world. The silence was absolute, like a kingdom of death where sound dared not tread.
"Roar!"
Out of nowhere, a tiger burst forth from the shadows, its fur aglow with a golden, divine radiance. Its eyes blazed red as it opened its gaping maw and lunged for the mouse's throat.
"Ah!"
With a defiant roar, the mouse jolted awake, ignoring the myriad wounds across its body. It rolled desperately on the ground and scrambled to its feet.
"Roar!"
The foul stench of blood assaulted its senses as the tiger loomed before it. Then, with a thunderous crash, the beast shattered into a cloud of golden fragments and vanished.
"It was just an illusion!" the mouse gasped, wiping away the cold sweat beading on its forehead. Stumbling, it made its way to a wall, leaned against the frigid stone, and slowly slid down to sit.
It might have been a mere blink of an eye, but when the mouse opened its eyes, the world had turned into a nightmare.
"Zopyrus, give me back my life!" From the darkness, blood-soaked hands reached out and seized the mouse by the throat from behind.
"No!" The mouse's scream echoed with terror. The hands were icy, their touch as chilling as frost, sending a shiver of dread straight to the heart.
"Zopyrus, have you forgotten me? I'm your second uncle!" Amidst a chilling laugh, a stooped silhouette emerged from the darkness before the mouse.
An old man, likely in his fifties, approached with a hunched back and a wild mane of white hair. His face, creased and craggy, bore a sinister smile, and his yellowed teeth resembled those of a demon.
His abdomen had been savagely torn open, and blood surged out like a fountain, along with a tangle of colorful intestines that drenched the mouse.
"No, Second Uncle, don't come after me. It wasn't intentional!" the mouse cried out, his slight frame shaking uncontrollably. He stumbled backward, flailing his arms in a futile attempt to rid himself of the gruesome entrails clinging to him.
"Zopyrus, you despicable wretch! Return my life to me!"
"Zopyrus, do you remember your second aunt? Why must you be so cruel as to kill us?"
"Zopyrus, Uncle Niu has arrived. Uncle Niu met such a tragic end. Why won't you join us?"
In the darkness, a succession of corpses with disheveled white hair and ghastly pale faces emerged, their bodies drenched in blood, bones jutting out, some even headless, clutching their own severed heads as they advanced toward Zopyrus.
These familiar faces were none other than the villagers from before Zopyrus had joined the Thvelond Sect.
"Zopyrus, your life is forfeit!"
In a crimson hell, countless pale hands seized Zopyrus, ripping at his flesh; rotten mouths bit into him, feasting on his blood and muscle.
"No, please, I implore you, spare me, spare me!" Amidst the darkness and Zopyrus's piercing cries, an endless wave of corpses surged forth, engulfing his slight frame.
"Demon, you've laid waste to this world, entombing the human race of the nine continents. I will kill you!"
"Wicked Slayer, you've obliterated all hope for humanity. You demon!"
"No, Continent of Sin, my last refuge, what have you done to the human race?"
Overcome with dread, Zopyrus saw a tidal wave of people in the darkness, seemingly billions, with no end in sight, all crawling toward him, their bodies broken and bleeding.
Even further off, hordes of the Beast Tribe's demons swarmed toward him like a vast sea, eager to consume his flesh and blood.
"What have I done? Why has the entire world turned against me?" Amidst the dense throng, Zopyrus bellowed to the heavens.
He was enraged, resentful, a fierce inferno blazing within him, beyond his control.
"Ah!"
In an instant, innumerable pallid hands and skeletal maws submerged Zopyrus's frail body.
His anguished roar reverberated through the depths of hell.
In the profound stillness of the night, Sablewings, the preeminent sect of the Nine Continents, stood upon Thvelond Mount.
Sablewings, so vast it pierced the clouds, as if striving to measure the sky's height. Its origins, long lost, had vanished in the torrents of history.
Sablewings stood as the iconic structure of the Thvelond Sect, akin to the significance of the Water Curtain Cave for both men and women.
Adjacent to Sablewings, there was a small courtyard that seemed out of place amidst the grandeur of Thvelond Mount. Within it, two individuals were present.
One was Hephaistos.
Clad in a golden robe, his golden hair fluttered in the breeze, his eyelashes shimmering with the same hue; he resembled a miniature sun.
His stature was imposing, exuding a formidable presence. His broad eyebrows and large eyes complemented a face as sharply defined as if carved by a blade.
He was like a Demon God unleashed from the depths of hell, terrifyingly formidable.
The other, garbed in a black robe, had black and white hair draping over his shoulders. His face was unremarkable, yet his narrow, murky eyes occasionally flickered with a sinister light. He seemed to be a creature of shadow, impervious to even the most intense sunlight.
Bucolus was one of the three Chief Elders of the Thvelond Sect, alongside Clements.
The dark courtyard housed only one simple dwelling. The ground was laid with clean green stones, clearly well-maintained.
At that moment, the two sat cross-legged in the courtyard, a chessboard between them. The interplay of black and white pieces emanated a bizarre, chilling aura of conflict that was deeply unsettling.
"Master, isn't this too cruel?" Hephaistos asked Bucolus, a flicker of compassion in his eyes.
"Cruel? Trading a Zopyrus for the peace of Thvelond is an act of mercy!"
"Hephaistos, the mantle of the Lord of Thvelond will inevitably be yours one day. Once you assume that role, you'll understand that the world is far more complex than you imagine. Sometimes, one misguided decision can lead to a devastating calamity for Thvelond!" Bucolus sighed, his countenance as dark and still as deep waters, the mark of a born conspirator.
"Why should Clements be the one exchanged for a demon like Judas, when a Zopyrus is at stake?" Hephaistos sighed, his thoughts turning to the senior disciple whom Mouse had never met.
Placing his chess piece down, Bucolus rose and gazed into the inky night sky.
"Hundreds of years ago, your father, Lord Kenway, brought the demoness Thora back to Thvelond. Three years later, Thvelond was thrown into chaos as demons from the Fell Lands invaded. They seized control of the Voidweave Array's diagram, and tens of thousands of demons swarmed Thvelond Mount, slaughtering our disciples without mercy."
"That night, rivers of blood were shed, and the bodies of our disciples littered the entire mount. Had the Golden Roc Ancestor not emerged, Thvelond would have been relegated to history!" Bucolus sighed, turning his gaze to Hephaistos.
Hephaistos wore a somber look, aware that his father had orchestrated the entire tragedy.
"Three years ago, Kenway again brought the Beast Tribe's Young Lord's brother, Judas, into our Thvelond Sect. He left behind only a letter, giving me no choice but to accept."
"Now, as three years draw to a close and the dawn of time immemorial approaches, the demons are stirring at our borders. Thvelond stands on the brink of another upheaval!" Bucolus clenched his fists, his voice as chilling as a wind from the abyss.
"With the impending time immemorial and the Golden Roc Ancestor's departure, Thvelond faces peril. I will not stand by and let demons wreak havoc at such a critical juncture."
"Your father will soon return, bringing not mercy but calamity. I trust you will have the resolve to act." Bucolus spoke with an icy tone, hands clasped behind him.
Hephaistos twirled a white stone in his fingers, hesitating to make his move. After a long contemplation marked by a complex mix of emotions, he finally exhaled, "For Thvelond, I will take action."
"I have sacrificed Victoria and Zopyrus, everything, the safety of my family, the errors of this world—it falls on Buteo and me to shoulder these burdens." Bucolus let out a weary sigh, his hair, streaked with black and white, whipped about by the cold wind, signaling his desolation.
"Clements will soon end his seclusion and will set out to rescue Zopyrus," Hephaistos stated, his expression steely.
"Hmph, the Heart Refining Path is an unparalleled Phantasm Trap inscribed by Everett. In this world, only the Supreme and the Great Emperor can decipher it. Buteo is far outclassed," Bucolus snorted coldly, sitting cross-legged in front of the chessboard. He picked up a black piece, poised to completely block the white chess path.
"Hephaistos, you little brat!"
Suddenly, a thunderous roar erupted, shaking the ground like a bolt from the blue.
A gaunt figure descended from the heavens, appearing as though a Demon God had burst forth from hell itself!
He was an old man with disheveled white hair, his black robe billowing, his face as lined as the bark of an ancient tree, his eyes bloodshot and nearly bursting with fury.
He landed with the wrath of a raging tyrant, his presence thick with lethal intent. With a step forward, he seized Hephaistos by the neck, hoisting his formidable frame up from the stone bench.
"Where is my disciple?" Clements bellowed, his grip tightening, the sound of cracking bones filling the air as Hephaistos's face flushed red with excruciating pain, his throat feeling as though it would be crushed by Clements's grasp.
"Heart Refining Path!" Hephaistos managed to gasp out the words after a long silence.
With a thud, Clements dropped Hephaistos's body to the ground and glared down at the silent Bucolus with murky eyes.
"It's over!" Clements declared, his white hair whipping about him.
"For Thvelond, we've committed too many unspeakable acts, all of which you taught me!" Bucolus said sternly, his voice dark and devoid of emotion.
With a contemptuous snort, Clements turned and soared into the sky, heading towards the side peak of Thvelond Mount.
"Project Slayer has only just begun!" Bucolus's chilling voice echoed through the eerie courtyard, reminiscent of the grim reaper.
At a corner of Thvelond Mount, amidst the Seven-Colored Immortal Mist, a building stood majestically.
"Why must you treat him so?" Atop a palace, Judas embraced Victoria's delicate form. Together, they basked in the glow of the moonlight, their closeness unbreakable, as if not even the collapsing heavens could tear them apart.
"Talking about that waste of space?" Judas sneered, his bright smile showcasing a mouthful of white teeth, his eyes sharp and piercing. He was the epitome of a dashing young gentleman.
"It's utterly tedious!" Judas inhaled the scent of Victoria's smooth black hair, becoming utterly captivated by it.
"You really are something else..." Victoria, at a loss for words, playfully pinched Judas's straight nose. Bathed in moonlight, the pair teased and bantered with each other, reveling in their happiness.
At the side peak of Thvelond Mount, within the Heart Refining Path, the dark maw of a demon echoed with relentless roars of defiance, their mournful cries resonating with heart-wrenching sorrow.
Bathed in the silvery glow of the moonlight, a solitary, slender figure abruptly appeared at the entrance to the Heart Refining Path.
In the soft caress of the night breeze, a pale blue ribbon danced alongside her flowing black hair.
In the moonlight, her perfect profile shone with a crystalline clarity, reminiscent of a flawless piece of crystal.
"Kid, you've really become worthless!"
