The leader, his eyes previously closed in concentration, opened them slowly, a hint of frustration evident. "I can't sense him," he murmured. "Either he's dead or he never came here."

Another lackey, more composed than his peers, spoke up. "We received word of a body thrown into the river. We're wondering if it washed up here." He paused, eyeing the villagers, "There's a reward of 100 gold coins for any information."

Eyes widened among the villagers, a flicker of greed flashing across several faces. They knew of the stranger Oliviare and her father had taken in. One villager, eager for the reward, pointed directly at Hughie. "It's him!"

The leader's gaze snapped towards Hughie, trying to probe for any signs of cultivation but finding none. He frowned, puzzled, and gestured to one of his men.

The lackey strode forward, stopping so close to Hughie that his breath brushed against his face. Hughie released Oliviare's hand, whispering, "Don't interfere, no matter what."

The lackey scrutinized Hughie, then turned back to his leader, shaking his head. "This one doesn’t seem like a cultivator," he said, indicating Hughie's plain clothes and the absence of any detectable Qi.

"That's the outsider. Found him half-dead in the river," a villager piped up, eager to share information for the reward.

Hughie, feigning innocence, shrugged. "I'm just a hunter who had an accident. Don't know anything about these immortals you speak of."

The leader, however, seemed unconvinced. He gestured, and the lackey grabbed Hughie roughly, dragging him forward. "We'll take him back to grandpa. Even if he isn’t the one, I’m in need of a new servant."

"No, don’t take him!" Oliviare’s voice cut through the tension.

The leader's attention diverted to Oliviare as she stood defiantly, her beauty striking him visibly. His eyes gleamed with a different kind of greed now. "Bring the girl," he ordered his men, his voice oily. "But be gentle. She will be... mine."

The second the lackey began his approach toward Oliviare, Hughie acted without hesitation. Tearing off the locket, it vanished seamlessly into his storage ring. With a breath, the Bloodforge Ascension technique surged to life within him, transforming his physique. His skin adopted a fiery hue as his injuries healed at a breath-taking speed. The potent aura of a Late Core Formation cultivator swept the area, causing the approaching lackey to stagger back in surprise.

"Stay away from her!" Hughie's voice was a growl, barely coherent, saturated with a rage he hadn't known he possessed. He lunged, driven by a burgeoning bloodlust. In a flash, he was upon the hapless Foundation Establishment cultivator.

The man, caught off guard, didn't stand a chance.

Hughie's hand, large and unyielding, clamped onto the man's face, and with a ferocious slam, he drove the lackey's head into the ground. The impact was catastrophic, the earth splintering while the man's skull caved in, brain matter seeping into the cracked soil.

A shrill scream pierced the air. "Demon!" A villager's voice echoed with terror, setting off a chain reaction of fear. Villagers scattered, seeking shelter.

Oliviare staggered back, her eyes wide with horror.

The sight stabbed him. She's afraid... of me, Hughie realized, heart sinking. He hadn't wanted her to witness this side of him, the side that veered closer to demonhood than the immortal cultivator she imagined. A battle began inside him: the beast craving bloodshed against the part of him that yearned to protect Oliviare.

His self-reflection was shattered by the leader's enraged bellow. "Get him!" he ordered, his command rallying the remaining two Foundation Establishment cultivators to encircle Hughie.

Each step they took, each battle stance they adopted, only fed the beast inside Hughie. But a sliver of his consciousness, fading fast, reminded him to finish it quickly. Oliviare... keep her safe, he struggled to think.

The leader unsheathed his sword, taunting, "You've done me a favor by killing my cousin, making me the heir, but—" His words ended abruptly when, in a flurry of motion, Hughie was upon him. His fingers, more claw than human, gripped the leader's throat. The man's frantic struggles only served to stoke Hughie's desire for violence.

Gasping, the leader tried wielding his sword. But with a feral snarl, Hughie batted it away. As his bloodlust threatened to consume him entirely, the leader's desperate pleas filtered through. "Please... you don't have to..."

But Hughie's grip only tightened, the rage blinding him to reason. With a sickening crack, the leader's neck snapped. Hughie tossed the lifeless body aside like it was nothing more than a ragdoll.

The two remaining lackeys, faces pale with horror, turned to flee, but Hughie was faster. In one fluid motion, he seized the leader's fallen sword, hurling it with deadly precision. It sailed through the air, impaling one lackey through the chest, pinning him to a tree. The man's eyes went wide as the life slowly left him.

The second lackey didn't even get a moment to process the scene. As he unleashed a blazing fire arrow attack, Hughie was already upon him. With a swift motion, Hughie brushed the fiery projectile aside, landing a powerful blow on the cultivator. The punch sent the man sprawling to the ground. But Hughie's wrath didn't stop there. With a powerful leap, he descended, foot first, onto the cultivator's skull. There was a wet, sickening sound as the head was pulverized, fragments of bone and gore scattering in all directions.

Chest heaving, he scanned the area. His blood-red eyes landed on Oliviare, standing alone beneath a market stall. A sinister urge prodded him forward. In a heartbeat, he was before her, teeth bared.

Hurt her, hurt her, hurt her, the whispers in his mind chanted.

Yet as he stared deep into her eyes, a hint of clarity pierced the fog of his rage. The weight of what he had nearly done bore down on him. "Am I...am I a monster?" he murmured.

Closing his eyes, he struggled to keep the tears at bay. I am a man. Cultivators don't shed tears. Not here, not now. Especially not in front of her. But the jovial mask he wore in the sect, the cheerful demeanor that masked his true feelings, was crumbling.

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Suddenly, soft, warm arms wrapped around him. He felt Oliviare's comforting embrace. "You're not a monster," she whispered into his ear, voice shaking but firm. "You protected the village, you... protected me."

Sh-she doesn't realise how close I was to... Hughie shook his head, not able to complete the thought.

He tentatively hugged her back as his demonic form slowly receded. "How can you not be afraid of me?" he whispered back.

Her voice, tender, carried a weighty confession, "Father was right, you are trouble... but you're my trouble now."

Hughie shook his head, a wave of sadness washing over him. "I have to leave this village. Staying will only endanger you, and I... I can't bear that thought."

Oliviare clung tighter to him, her voice brimming with emotion. "But I don't want you to go."

"And I don’t want to leave," he admitted, his voice breaking.

"Why can't we stay like this forever?" she murmured, her breath warm against his bare chest.

Hughie remained silent, lost in thought. Just a few days ago, he'd tried a simple qi sensitivity technique on her. All she had to do was sense the qi flow, he recalled. But like many others, she didn't show any signs of the gift. He wished things were different.

If she could cultivate... he mused, I could bring her to the sect, and perhaps we could have a future. But being with me, as a mortal? Too risky. I can't be selfish.

"I... I wanted to tell you that... I mean, I think... I... uh..." Words began to tumble from him, a jumbled mess of emotions he tried to shape into a confession. But his tongue seemed to have a mind of its own, tripping over the syllables like a novice on the training field.

She gently placed a finger on his lips, silencing him. "I understand," Oliviare said softly.

From the folds of her clothes, she took out a pitch-black ring. Plain, without any ornate designs, it looked... well, rather unimpressive.

"This has been in my family for generations," she explained, pressing the ring into his hand. "It's always been with me, close to my heart. And now, it's yours."

He stared at the ring, his thoughts whirling. Seriously? Who in the world would craft a ring this... bleak? "I can't take this," he blurted, the words escaping before he could catch them. And not just because of propriety. The ring was... ugly. So very, very ugly.

"Just take it." She smiled, shyly.

His hand closed around the ring, the metal cool against his skin. Ugly or not, I'll treasure it. Because it's from her. He couldn't help but smile back.

She leaned forward, her lips briefly touching his cheek. "Something to remember me by, Mr. Immortal," Oliviare teased. As she slowly moved away, she murmured, "I will always be waiting for you. Always."

Just before she vanished from his line of sight, she hesitated and turned back. Her face was slightly flushed, and her fingers nervously played with the edge of her dress. "And when you come back," she added, mustering the courage, "I expect you to propose with that ring."

Hughie stood there, the warmth of her kiss lingering on his skin, watching her retreating figure until it disappeared. He sighed deeply, sliding the unattractive ring onto his finger. This is going to be an interesting story to tell the guys back at the sect, he mused, a bitter smile tugging at his lips.

And then, out of the blue, a disgruntled voice echoed inside his mind. "Insolent youngster! Daring to charm and woo my precious descendent! And you! Oliviare! How could you hand our ancestral ring to this... this stranger?!"

Hughie blinked, trying to comprehend the sudden intrusion. Am I... am I hearing voices now? he thought.

The voice continued to rant. "Back in my days, we valued traditions, not like these unfilial descendants. Gifting away family treasures to the first charming face they see! Bah! To think that our noble immortal lineage would produce such... such mortals."

The voice was old and cranky, and Hughie imagined a grumpy old man shaking his fist at the sky.

Has the ring got some sort of curse that includes a nagging ancestor?

"Hello?" Hughie ventured, hoping he wasn't going mad.

"What? You can hear me?!" The voice responded with genuine surprise.

Hughie nodded, then realizing that the voice probably couldn't see him, he verbalized his response. "Yes, I can hear you."

A throaty chuckle emerged from the ring. "Well, then, lad. It seems it's your lucky day. I am a true immortal. Not one of those half-baked 'I've lived for two centuries and now I'm enlightened' ones. Nope! A genuine, bona fide immortal!"

The voice paused, a sort of smugness emanating through the connection. "You know, if you manage to impress me—which is no small feat, mind you—I might just consider taking you on as a disciple."

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Ding! Your Disciple Hughie Has Found A Heaven Rank Treasure Alert: Your Disciple’s Loyalty Is Being Tested

Special Condition Activated: For every action, there's a reaction. Should your disciple Hughie prove loyal, you will be rewarded.

However, if his loyalty falters, you will face consequences.

Reward for Disciple’s Loyalty:

· 1000 Karmic Credits

· Comprehension Card (Level 1)

Consequences of losing a Disciple:

· Hidden

· Hidden

· Hidden