The tattered robes hung from his lean frame like shadows clinging to dying leaves. Before stepping into the human world, he found a clean stream in the outer wilds and washed the bloodstains from his body. From a hidden compartment in his spatial ring—a keepsake from the demon prince—he pulled out a new set of clothes: a black robe with crimson embroidery in the shape of coiling serpents and broken chains. A subtle nod to his origin and his desire to shatter fate.
He covered his features beneath a simple hooded cloak, adjusted his aura to appear faint and harmless, and began walking. For a week, he crossed the outer borders of the wild forest, no longer hunted nor hunting. He no longer devoured beasts; their bloodlines were beneath him. His cultivation had grown to the Second Claw Third Realm, and he needed to be patient. Reckless devouring would only taint his future.
Finally, the city emerged from the horizon—walls of scarlet stone and banners embroidered with golden flame patterns.
Scarlet City.
The moment he stepped through the gates, the noise hit him like a wave—carriages rumbled down stone streets, vendors shouted over one another, guards in red armor stood stoic at every intersection, and civilians bustled like leaves in a storm. It was chaotic. It was alive. It was human.
He walked through the market square, absorbing it all. Food stalls sold roasted meat skewers, sweet dumplings, and spiced soups. Blacksmiths hammered steel. He passed a group of children laughing as they chased each other with wooden swords, and for a brief moment, his bloodstained past felt far away.
After asking a few wandering travelers, he found an inn near the city's eastern district. The Flame Serpent's Rest was a modest, three-story building with crimson tiles and wooden signs etched in old imperial script.
"I'll take a room for a week," he said, voice hoarse but calm.
The innkeeper eyed him up and down but didn't question it. "One gold," he grunted.
He tossed a small pouch onto the counter. Demon treasures had more uses than just combat.
Once settled in, he began his next hunt—knowledge.
The pubs were his first stop. Not for alcohol, but for conversation.
He sat in corners, sipped bland broth, and listened. Drunken mercenaries spoke more than they should. He learned that cultivators here followed the same stages—First Claw through Void Emperor—but their paths diverged sharply depending on the qi attribute they cultivated.
Demon Qi, he discovered, was feared and respected. Practitioners of this path could corrupt an opponent's qi upon contact, weakening them over time. It also enhanced healing and battle strength. However, cultivating demon qi without a demon bloodline was dangerous—many who tried died from internal rejection. He fit this path naturally, of course.
Spirit Qi cultivators were the most rare. They channeled their qi into abstract attacks that affected the soul directly. Their bodies were fragile, but their techniques were difficult to guard against. Only those with powerful souls could walk this path. They often became alchemists or spiritual masters—roles that carried immense status.
Body Qi was the most common among humans. It didn't specialize in overwhelming power, but instead in balance—strength, endurance, and healing. It was simple, effective, and had no major weaknesses, which made it the foundation for many large sects and clans.
Beast Qi was a physical powerhouse. Only those with beast bloodlines or beast essence could practice it. It dramatically enhanced bodily resilience, muscle strength, and longevity. However, it made the soul sluggish. Most beast qi cultivators had brute force, but not finesse.
As he pieced the puzzle together, the path he would walk became clearer. His path was a fusion—a foundation of demon qi, enhanced by powerful bloodlines, but trained with a tempered body and a sharpened soul. He would not be bound by one attribute. He would devour all paths and forge his own.
He continued his research in a modest bookstore owned by an old cultivator who once served the empire. The man was blind in one eye but sharp in wit.
"You've got the look of someone running from something—or to something," the old man had said, not unkindly.
He smiled faintly beneath his hood. "Both."
It was from books and scrolls that he finally learned where he had landed:
The Fire Empire. One of the two great human nations, alongside the Sword Empire. The Fire Empire was named after its first emperor—Flame Dragon Sovereign, a man said to have carried the blood of a fire dragon and reached the Void King Realm.
Scarlet City was a mid-tier city in the empire's southern region, known for its fiery cultivators and aggressive martial culture.
He also read of the demon clans. His fragmented memories from the demon prince told of three great empires—Blood, Dark, and one now destroyed. The remaining two held lands deep in the shadowed west, and conflict between them was constant.
Beasts had no empires but instead claimed the Forbidden Zones—three vast, untamed lands that no human sect dared to claim. They were rumored to be filled with ancient beasts, immortal trees, and lost relics. For now, those places were far beyond his reach.
Closer to home, however, Scarlet City was ruled by two major clans—the Bone Clan and the Azure Clan, each led by a Fourth Claw Realm patriarch. The balance between them was delicate, and tension always simmered beneath the surface.
He returned to the pub that evening, ordering a bowl of thick meat stew and listening as the candles flickered low.
"…you hear the Bone Clan finally proposed marriage to the Azure girl?" a merchant whispered to his companion.
"No! The Azure Patriarch's daughter? Isn't she—"
"Beautiful. Talented. Second Claw Realm. And they say she has spirit qi, too."
He stirred his stew, uninterested in petty romance. Yet something about it lingered. Perhaps it was boredom, or curiosity, or the simple thrill of living among people after months of silence. A political marriage between powerful clans could shift the city's balance. And where there was imbalance… there was opportunity.
He paid for the food, left a tip—something he picked up from the human custom books—and stepped back into the cold night.
Stars shimmered above. His breath misted in the air.
He tightened his cloak and walked back toward the inn, boots soft against cobbled stone.
The human world was vast and filled with secrets.
And now… he was part of it.