The wind whispered through the pine trees as Qin Yi stood at the edge of the cliff, his gaze fixed on the sprawling world below. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden light over the valleys and rivers that stretched as far as the eye could see. For years, this mountain had been his sanctuary, a place where he had honed his skills in solitude, far from the troubles of the world.

But today, his peace was ending.

Qin Yi took a deep breath, savoring the cool mountain air one last time. His master had always spoken of the duty of a cultivator—to protect the weak, to restore balance. He would wield his sword for the righteous and slay all demons on his path. 

“It’s time,” he murmured to himself, tightening the strap of his sword. The weight of the blade was a familiar comfort, a reminder of his purpose. With a final glance at the tranquil peaks behind him, Qin Yi stepped off the cliff.

He floated gently through the air, his body carried by the energy he had spent years cultivating. As he descended, the world below grew louder—the sounds of merchants haggling, children laughing, and the distant roar of a river. It was a vibrant, living place, but there was something else too—a tension that set his senses on edge.

Qin Yi touched down softly at the base of the mountain, the earth firm beneath his feet. The air here was thick, filled with the scent of soil and life. He could sense the presence of countless people around him, their energies flickering like candles in the wind.

Ahead of him lay the first village, nestled just beyond a dense forest. Already, he could feel the unrest in the air. The villagers’ voices carried notes of fear and desperation. They had been waiting for something—someone—to bring them hope. But as he walked through the trees, his master’s words echoed in his mind: "The world is not as it seems, and the hearts of men are easily swayed. Qin Yi, if you are not careful, for even you will be swallowed by this storm."

When Qin Yi emerged from the forest, the village came into view. The sight that greeted him was a stark contrast to the peaceful communities he had imagined. The houses were crumbling, the fields barren. But what struck him most was the atmosphere—eyes narrowed with suspicion, hands clenched tightly around meager belongings.

Qin Yi approached an elderly man bent over a cart of firewood. “Excuse me, elder,” he said, bowing slightly. “I’ve come to help.”

The old man looked up slowly, his eyes scanning Qin Yi with a mixture of curiosity and weariness. “Help?” he echoed, his voice rough. “And what help do you think you can offer, young man? The heavens have abandoned us. What can you do that they have not?”

Qin Yi’s heart tightened at the man’s words, but he kept his voice steady. “I am not here on behalf of the heavens,” he replied. “I am here because I believe in justice.”

The old man let out a bitter laugh, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of years of disappointment. “Justice? You won’t find any of that here. But if you’re set on trying, you’re welcome to it. Just don’t expect any thanks for your trouble. We have nothing to give you! We don't even have enough for ourselves!”

As the old man turned away, Qin Yi stood in the center of the village, taking in the harsh reality around him. This was not the world he had envisioned.

Qin Yi clenched his fist, feeling the rough texture of the earth beneath his feet. The village was more than just in disrepair; it was a place where hope had withered, leaving only a brittle shell of what once might have been a thriving community. The villagers' faces were etched with lines of hardship, their gazes hollow, their spirits dulled by years of suffering. Yet, beneath that despair, he sensed a flicker of something else—fear, yes, but also a guarded sense of resilience.

Qin Yi knew that the challenges ahead would not just be about facing external foes, but about rekindling that lost spark within these people. His master's teachings had prepared him for many things—battles, strategy, the pursuit of justice—but this, this was something different. This was about restoring faith where it had been shattered.

As he walked further into the village, the whispers of the villagers followed him. They eyed him with suspicion, their voices low but sharp, filled with doubt. They had seen wanderers before—men with swords, claiming to be heroes, only to leave more destruction in their wake. Qin Yi could feel their mistrust pressing down on him like a heavy mantle.

He approached the center of the village where a small gathering of villagers stood around a well. The well, like everything else in this place, seemed worn and neglected, its stones cracked and covered in moss. The villagers drew water with the same tired motions, their conversations hushed. But as Qin Yi approached, silence fell, and all eyes turned to him.

“Who are you?” A young woman, perhaps in her early twenties, stepped forward, her stance defensive. Her clothes were simple, but her eyes held a spark of defiance that the others seemed to lack. “Another sword-for-hire, come to tell us you can save us? We’ve had enough of false promises.”

Qin Yi met her gaze steadily, his voice calm and measured. “I am Qin Yi, a cultivator from the Eastern Peaks. I seek no payment, only to offer aid where it is needed. Tell me what has befallen this village, and I will do what I can to help.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed as she studied him, searching for any sign of deceit. “You say you come from the Eastern Peaks,” she said slowly. “If that’s true, then you must know of the beast that has plagued our lands.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd at her words, and Qin Yi’s heart quickened. A beast? His master had warned him of demons and creatures of darkness, but this was the first he had heard of such a thing so close to human settlements.

“Tell me more,” he said, his voice firm. “What kind of beast is this?”

The young woman exchanged a glance with an older man beside her, who nodded grimly. She took a deep breath before speaking. “It came to our village three moons ago,” she began. “A creature unlike any we’ve ever seen—massive, with scales as black as night and eyes that burn like fire. It destroys our crops, poisons our water, and devours anyone who ventures too close. We’ve tried to fight it, but our weapons are useless against its hide. We’ve lost many already…”

Her voice faltered, and she looked away, blinking back tears. The other villagers bowed their heads, their expressions dark with grief.

Qin Yi’s jaw tightened. A demon, then. There could be no doubt. His training had prepared him for this, but knowing that didn’t ease the burden on his heart. “And no one has been able to drive it away?” he asked.

The older man shook his head. “No. We sent word to the nearby cities, but no help came. We are too small, too far from the great sects. To them, we are not worth the trouble.”

Qin Yi nodded, understanding the depth of their despair. “I will face this creature,” he declared, his voice ringing with resolve. “And I will end its terror.”

A stunned silence followed his words. The villagers stared at him, disbelief etched in their faces. Then, slowly, the young woman spoke again, her voice trembling with the first hint of hope. “If you truly mean to help us… then we will help you, too. But know this: many have tried, and all have failed.”

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Qin Yi, you must remember this. For when you see no hope. When you are completely afraid and surrounded by only darkness. You must tell yourself that you are able to change fate! This is who we cultivators are!

His masters words echoed his mind, erasing all doubt in his heart and mind. 

With that, he turned and began to make his way towards the outskirts of the village, where the forest loomed dark and foreboding. The villagers watched him go, their hearts a strange mix of hope and fear. As Qin Yi stepped into the shadow of the trees, he felt the weight of their expectations on his shoulders.

But he would not falter. He had trained his whole life for this moment. The path of a cultivator was not an easy one, but it was one he had chosen willingly. Tonight, he would prove his worth—to the village, to his master, and to himself.

As he ventured deeper into the forest, the air grew colder, the shadows thicker. The trees seemed to close in around him, their branches like skeletal fingers reaching for the sky. But Qin Yi’s steps were sure, his heart steady. He could feel the presence of the beast, a dark, malevolent energy pulsing through the earth.

It was close.

Drawing his sword, Qin Yi paused, centering himself, his mind calm and focused. He would face the beast, and he would triumph. There was no other option.

Qin Yi’s breath slowed as he attuned himself to the energy around him. The forest was alive with the subtle movements of creatures in the underbrush, but they were quiet tonight, aware of the presence of something far more dangerous lurking nearby. The oppressive aura of the beast grew stronger with each step he took, a palpable force that sent shivers through the air.

He moved swiftly but silently, his senses sharpened to every sound and shift in the environment. The forest was dense, the trees towering overhead, their branches intertwining to form a thick canopy that blocked out much of the fading light. The only illumination came from the faint glow of his sword, a soft, ethereal light that pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat.

As he reached a small clearing, he stopped abruptly. The ground here was scorched, the earth blackened and cracked as if seared by an intense heat. The trees at the edge of the clearing were twisted and gnarled, their bark charred. The stench of sulfur filled the air, mingling with the acrid scent of burned vegetation.

This was where the beast had made its lair.

Qin Yi’s grip tightened on his sword as he stepped forward, his gaze sweeping the area. The clearing was eerily silent, the stillness broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. He could feel the presence of the beast all around him now, a heavy, oppressive force that pressed down on his chest.

Then, from the shadows at the far end of the clearing, two fiery eyes emerged, glowing with an otherworldly light. The ground trembled as the creature began to move, its massive form slowly materializing from the darkness. It was even more terrifying than the villagers had described—towering over Qin Yi, its body covered in thick, black scales that shimmered like obsidian in the dim light. Its jaws were lined with rows of razor-sharp teeth, and when it snarled, the sound was a deep, rumbling growl that echoed through the forest.

Qin Yi stood his ground, his heart pounding in his chest. This was no ordinary beast—it was a demon, a creature of pure malevolence. He could feel its hatred radiating towards him, a dark, poisonous energy that sought to overwhelm him. But he had trained for this, had spent years honing his mind and body to resist such darkness.

“Come, demon,” Qin Yi called out, his voice steady. “Face me, and let this night be your last.”

The beast responded with a roar that shook the very ground beneath Qin Yi’s feet. It lunged forward with astonishing speed for a creature of its size, its massive claws tearing through the earth as it charged. But Qin Yi was ready. He leaped into the air, his body propelled by the energy he had cultivated, and with a fluid motion, he swung his sword in a wide arc.

The blade connected with the beast’s hide, sending a shockwave of energy through the air. But instead of slicing through, the sword glanced off the creature’s scales, leaving only a shallow mark. Qin Yi’s eyes widened in surprise. The beast’s hide was even tougher than he had anticipated.

He landed lightly on his feet, quickly assessing the situation. The beast snarled, its eyes burning with fury as it turned to face him again. Its scales were nearly impervious to normal attacks—he would have to rely on more than just brute force to defeat it.

The demon lunged again, but this time Qin Yi was faster. He darted to the side, narrowly avoiding the creature’s claws, and struck at its underbelly, where the scales were slightly thinner. The beast roared in pain as the blade bit into its flesh, though the wound was not deep. It twisted around, trying to swipe at Qin Yi with its massive tail, but he jumped back just in time, the tail missing him by inches.

Qin Yi knew he couldn’t afford to drag this fight out. The longer it went on, the more dangerous it became—not just for him, but for the village and its people. He needed to find the demon’s weak point and end this quickly.

He focused his energy, drawing it inward, letting it flow through his body and into his sword. The blade began to glow brighter, the light intensifying until it was almost blinding. The air around him hummed with power as he prepared to unleash his most powerful technique.

The beast, sensing the shift in energy, hesitated for a moment, its fiery eyes narrowing. But it was too late. With a shout, Qin Yi released the energy in a single, decisive strike, the blade cutting through the air with incredible speed and force.

The sword pierced through the demon’s scales, driving deep into its chest. The creature let out a deafening roar, thrashing wildly as the energy from the strike spread through its body, tearing it apart from within. The ground trembled, and the air was filled with the sound of cracking and splitting as the demon’s body began to disintegrate, its dark energy dissipating into the night.

Qin Yi pulled his sword free and jumped back, watching as the beast collapsed to the ground, its form crumbling into ash. The roar faded into a low growl, then a whimper, and finally, there was silence.

The battle was over.

Qin Yi stood in the clearing, breathing heavily, his sword still glowing faintly. The oppressive aura that had filled the forest was gone, replaced by a sense of calm. The trees seemed to sigh with relief, their branches swaying gently in the breeze.

He lowered his sword, the glow fading as he sheathed it. The villagers had been right to fear this creature—it had been a powerful opponent, but not invincible. With its death, the village would be safe again, at least for a time.

Qin Yi turned and began to make his way back to the village.

However from the corner of his eyes he saw a red flower. 

"This is..." All of a sudden he felt rage, fury, and hatred all well up inside of him. Screaming at him to destroy and harvest the blood as nourishment for the flower. 

"I see...You are the real demon!" He fell on one knee and his hands trembled while trying to balance himself with his sword. 

Quickly he got into a meditative pose and began chanting.

“In the quiet of my heart, I embrace the gentle flow of the Dao. With each breath, I release the storm and welcome the calm. My spirit rests in harmony, serene and boundless.”

He repeated it over and over again. 

As Qin Yi chanted, the overwhelming surge of rage and darkness within him began to recede, replaced by a growing sense of clarity and control. The red flower, a seemingly innocuous bloom amidst the devastation, pulsed with an unsettling, dark energy. Its petals were a deep crimson, almost as if they were infused with the very essence of blood and malevolence.

The meditative chant was more than just words; it was a lifeline, a means to anchor his soul against the encroaching darkness. He focused on the rhythm of his breath, the steady cadence of his chant, allowing the energy of his inner peace to envelop him like a protective shield.

The flower seemed to react to his presence, its color shifting and swirling as if it were alive, as if it were trying to communicate with him or, perhaps, influence him. But Qin Yi was determined to resist. He had trained his mind as rigorously as his body, and he would not be swayed by a mere flower, no matter how sinister it appeared.

Gradually, the malevolent force within him subsided. The fury and hatred that had threatened to consume him were replaced by a profound calm. He could feel the balance within him being restored, the storm of emotions giving way to a serene stillness.

Rising to his feet, Qin Yi took a final, steadying breath. The flower, though still red and ominous, no longer seemed to exert the same overpowering influence over him. It was merely a plant, a strange and sinister one, but a plant nonetheless. The real demon, he realized, was not the flower itself but the dark energy it harbored—an energy that had sought to exploit his weaknesses and turn him into a vessel of destruction.

He approached the flower cautiously, his sword still in hand, though now sheathed. He could feel the lingering presence of the demon's dark magic, a remnant of the beast's power. The flower was a remnant of the creature's essence, a last vestige of its malevolence. It had been a test, a final challenge to his resolve and control.

With a determined expression, Qin Yi reached out and grasped the flower gently but firmly, his fingers closing around its stem. The flower writhed slightly in his grasp, its petals trembling as if protesting against its fate. But Qin Yi did not waver. With a swift and decisive motion, he pulled the flower from the ground, severing it from the dark energy that had rooted it.

As he held the flower aloft, its vibrant red color seemed to dull, the dark aura dissipating into the night air. The forest around him seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, the oppressive atmosphere lifting.