In the shadow of cracked stone buildings and fading sunlight, Xuan Long sat in silence.
A cold bench beneath him. Dust swirling around his boots. All around, Blackstone City moved — alive, arrogant, and oblivious.
Merchants barked from worn wooden stalls. Cultivators laughed while flaunting their rank badges. Commoners kept their eyes down, weaving through the chaos like ghosts. To them, this world was normal. Unfair, but familiar.
To Xuan Long?
It was a kingdom of rot.
And yet… it was the perfect soil for something new to grow.
Beside him stood Mu Chen, his first follower — barely eighteen, yet already wearing the weary sharpness of a seasoned soldier. He sat cross-legged on a stone step nearby, polishing a dull dagger with a scrap of linen.
"Master," he said softly, "we still have some spirit stones left. We could trade or invest in pills… maybe even open a small shop?"
His voice carried hope.
But Xuan Long's eyes remained fixed on the horizon — where the mountains loomed like silent titans and the wind whispered ancient regrets.
Finally, he answered.
"I'm not interested in business."
"We're not here to survive comfortably."
"We're going to build something that can never be broken."
Mu Chen tilted his head.
"Then what do we do?"
Xuan Long stood.
"We start from the bottom—not by joining the strong, but by saving the forgotten."
Slave Market – Outer Ring of the City
It was a place that stank of rusted chains, dried blood, and despair.
Shackles clinked with each step. Cultivators, mortals, demi-humans — all locked behind rusted bars, their spirits hollowed out by time and cruelty.
A crowd of buyers moved like vultures. Noble children picked slaves like fruit. Auctioneers called out cultivation levels as if they were meat prices.
"Qi Vein Level 3 — half-crippled but obedient!"
"Spirit Foundation orphan, blind in one eye, good for storage duty!"
Xuan Long ignored the noise.
His eyes landed on a single cage tucked at the edge.
Two men — no, demi-humans — crouched silently inside. Fox-eared. Scarred. Sharp yellow eyes that glowed with quiet hate.
Their posture was still proud, despite the filth and bruises.
Qi Vein Level 5.
Xuan Long didn't ask for their names. He didn't haggle.
He paid in spiritual stones — high-grade, enough to make the slave merchant stare.
The cage door creaked open.
The fox-eared men looked up, confused. Ready to fight. Ready to bleed.
But then—
"You're free," Xuan Long said, voice cold.
"But you now belong to something greater than freedom."
"A cause that will outlast the mountains."
They didn't respond. Not yet. But they followed.
That night, they reached an abandoned courtyard on the edge of Blackstone — half-burned, long forgotten. Stone walls cracked. Roof leaking. The scent of rot in the air.
Perfect.
Inside the dim, broken house, Xuan Long stood before his three followers.
A broken royal.
A shivering poison-user.
Two silent demi-humans.
His army.
"Mu Chen," he began, voice even.
"Your path is poison. Silent. Slow. Unseen."
"Study it. Master it. Let your enemies die before they even realize they're in danger."
Mu Chen looked surprised.
"Poison? Illusion? But what about… weapons?"
Xuan Long's eyes narrowed.
"Weapons are expected."
"What they won't expect… is fear. Confusion. Death before the sword leaves its sheath."
He turned to the fox-eared men.
"Your bloodline favors mental strength. You feel it — don't you? That pressure when people look too closely?"
"You two will master illusion arts. Learn to twist the senses. Break the mind."
He handed them a small pouch each.
"Spirit stones. Stolen from the Lu Clan's dead sons."
"Use it to buy manuals from the black market. Use it wisely."
No one questioned him.
No one needed to.
15 Days Later…
The courtyard had changed.
The weeds were gone. Stone walls patched. A barrier scroll Xuan Long purchased now cloaked the place from prying eyes. Still crude — but no longer forgotten.
Mu Chen stood at the center, his skin pale, veins faintly visible beneath the surface. His eyes were sharp — darker than before. The air around him smelled faintly of iron and rot.
"Master," he said quietly. "I reached Qi Vein Level 5."
He held up a tiny vial.
Inside, a thick black liquid clung to the glass like it was alive.
"This… melts bone."
Xuan Long nodded.
The two demi-humans knelt beside him.
"We have mastered the first layer of Shadow Mirage Arts," one said.
"Even a Core Formation cultivator may not pierce our illusion at night."
Xuan Long looked at each of them in turn.
From broken, forgotten outcasts—into something lethal.
His voice was calm.
"Good."
"Now it begins."
Outskirts – Bone Fang Mountains
It was a land of cliffs and frost. The sky here always seemed cloudy, and the wind howled like forgotten beasts. Crude tents and broken camps dotted the slopes — homes to creatures without homes.
Mu Chen frowned at the landscape, arms crossed.
"Master… why not join a sect? We'd get access to pills, techniques, even housing. It would be so much easier..."
Xuan Long didn't answer immediately.
He stepped to the edge of a cliff, overlooking a wide valley.
Then he spoke — low and certain.
"Easier, yes."
"But not faster."
"In a sect, we'd be tools. Kneeling for scraps. Waiting years for someone to notice us."
"Forced to hide strength. Swallow insults. Obey fools."
He turned. His eyes gleamed crimson under the fading sun.
"But out here…"
He clenched his fist.
"We carve our fate. Brick by brick. Bone by bone."
"And no one will control us again."
Mu Chen didn't understand everything.
But he nodded.
And followed.
Inside a mountain cave, they built their base.
Wooden supports. Stone walls. A fire pit and shelves. Crude maps marked with charcoal.
Here, they began their kingdom.
Not a sect.
Not a guild.
Something deeper. Stronger.
A legacy.
A few days passed.
The two demi-humans returned from scouting, their cloaks covered in dust.
"We searched the entire mountain range," one said.
"There's no clan. No sect. Nothing sacred."
"Only one thing—bandits. Dozens of groups. Scattered. Disorganized. Dangerous."
Xuan Long's lips curled slightly — his first smile in days.
"Good."
He looked toward the mountains, where firelight flickered in the distance — wild and undisciplined.
"That's exactly what I needed."