The chilling rumble voice drew the group’s attention, their eyes cutting through the dimness to where a shroud of ashen mist unraveled like a dying breath. From its dissipating veil emerged a spectral figure, indistinct yet hauntingly human.
Crimson threads, fine as vicious demon spider silk yet pulsing with malevolent intent, wove through the air from unseen voids, ensnaring him in a grotesque tapestry that bound his limbs and torso. The threads seemed alive, tightening with each faint stir of his breath, as though feeding on his waning essence.
Donovan Valdez’s muscle was taut with suspicion, his stance rigid as he scrutinized the figure. A sharp gasp from Zoe Wright at his side suddenly shattered the tense silence.
"S... Senior Brother Krogh Hanz?!"
All the others froze and stunned, their gazes snapping to Zoe in unison, confusion etched across their faces.
Zoe nodded with fervent certainty, the tattooed female cultivator’s eyes wide with recognition and admiration. "Back to the time, I just joined the Holy Sect, I attended an open lecture at Dao Artifact Peak for the first time. That lecture was given by Senior Brother Hanz. So this was definitely his voice—it’s unmistakable. I’d always remembered his voice!"
Donovan’s eyes narrowed, glinting with guarded curiosity. He stepped forward respectfully, his voice low and deliberate. "If I may be so bold, are you truly Senior Brother Krogh Hanz standing before us?"
The figure remained still for a long moment, as if weighing the question. "Ten years," the man murmured, his voice a hollow echo, "and the Outer Sect teems with millions of disciples like fish in the universe sea. Yet someone there still remembers my name." Slowly, the figure lifted his head, and the mist that had veiled him dissolved completely, revealing a handsome face gaunt and severe.
The silhouette resolved into a male cultivator seated cross-legged on a weathered futon, his presence steeped in decay, as if time itself had leached the vitality from his frame. The young cultivator sat in the shadow, his posture rigid as a blade sheathed in stillness. His face was all sharp angles—high cheekbones cutting through the taut skin, a jawline like the edge of a cliff. Though his frame spoke of youth, his hair was an unnatural silver, strands like frost threading through the dark, as though time itself had brushed too heavily over him.
His eyes were closed, his breathing so faint it seemed he had become part of the futon beneath him. The man’s eyelids lifted—just a sliver.
And in that sliver, a glint.
Not the dull flicker of spirit candlelight, but something colder, sharper—the gleam of a sword unsheathed in the dark. For an instant, the air itself seemed to thin, charged with something unspoken, something lethal. The gaze held no warmth, no curiosity—only the quiet, coiled menace of a high realm predator who had long since learned the weight of a killing instinct.
Then, just as swiftly, it was gone. His lashes lowered once more, veiling the storm beneath.
A ripple of stun and recognition mixing with sincerely awe passed through the Dominator Squad. This was indeed Krogh Hanz, the heir of Hanz Clan, the sword prodigy of the Outer Sect, the famed star who vanished a decade ago in pursuit of the elusive Cosmic Path Foundation Establishment Technique—a lethal myth so coveted it had driven him into legend and obscurity.
Out of everyone’s expectation.
Not only was Krogh alive, but he had returned to the Hanz Estate’s Ancestral Shrine.
"Senior Brother Hanz," Donovan said, his heart pounding as he offered a respectful bow, though his mind raced with questions. "This is Donovan Valdez of Ghost Palm Peak, and these are my battle squad companions. May I ask, Senior Brother, since you’ve been cultivated here in the Ancestral Shrine all this time, how did the Hanz Clan fall to ruin, get annihilated in a single night?"
Krogh Hanz let out a sigh, heavy with the weight of years. "It’s because of... the Cosmic Path Foundation Establishment Technique."
The words struck like a thunderclap. Donovan and his Dominator Squad companions exchanged startled glances. Krogh’s disappearance had been tied to that very cryptic technique, a mystery legend already wide spread in the Outer Sect’s whispered histories. But that was ten years past—why would the entire Hanz Clan, a thousand year lineage of legendary cultivators, be annihilated now so brutally and without warning?
Before Donovan could press further, Krogh’s voice resumed, slow and deliberate, each word dripping with ominous portent.
"Ninefold malice chains the sky,
A curse that none may dare deny.
Bound to fate, the stars align,
A destiny both dark and divine."
"The grudge awakes, its whispers cold,
Ju-on hungers, fierce and bold.
Through blood and bone, it claws its way,
To seize the throne of ascension’s sway."
"Triune calamities clash and roar,
Heaven’s wrath, the earth’s hard core.
Flames and frost and ruin’s cry,
All must face the tribulation’s eye."
"Yet in the storm, a spark remains,
Transcendence forged through endless pains.
One with the Dao, the soul takes flight,
Beyond the grasp of mortal night."
"Providence weaves the grand design,
A root that grips the cosmic vine.
Unshaken stands the pillar true,
The path of gods for soul and you."
"Through shattered realms and time’s embrace,
The Dao reveals its ageless grace.
And those who walk this road shall see—
The end is but destiny."
The man paused, then slowly lifted his eyelids once more—this time, the killing intent was gone. His sunken eyes gleamed with a strange, feverish light. "This was my reward from the chaos of Vermithys," he said, voice rough. "A trial that nearly killed me time and again... yet I endured. And in the end, I claimed it with my own hands."
"The Ju-On Dao Pillar."
"That’s the name of my Cosmic Path Foundation Establishment Technique."
A heavy silence fell over the group, their hearts stirred by the revelation. Their eyes flickered with unspoken longing, though none dared voice it. Each Cosmic Path Dao Pillar was the technique of true legend, a pathway to power that could elevate a cultivator beyond immortal limits.
Krogh seemed unperturbed by their silence, his voice steady as he continued. "This Foundation Establishment Technique demands Transcendencing three Tribulation Stage. The first is the Inner Demon Tribulation, a test of the mind’s darkest corners. The second is the Soul Bound Tribulation, a crucible of one’s determination to Great Dao. I have overcome both. But the third—the Ju-On Tribulation—requires a contest of will against the evilest Ju-On itself. For ten years, I have fought this battle nonstop."
He leaned forward slightly, the crimson threads tightening around him. "If I prevail, the Ju-On’s cursed essence and grudges power become mine, forging the almighty Cosmic Path Foundation. But if I fell, the Ju-On triumphs, my cultivation strength, my spirit essence power, my very being flesh and souls become its feast."
"We Hanz Clan’s annihilation," he continued, his voice growing colder, "was the Ju-On’s doing. This pure evil sought to shatter my Dao Heart, to bury my resolve in despair. And the evil thing nearly succeeded—my spirit teetered on the edge of ruin."
He fixed his gaze on the group, a spark of desperate hope in his eyes. "But your arrival, my dear fellow sect comrades, is my salvation. Aid me in defeating the evilest Ju-On, and I swear in the name of my Inner Demon to share the Cosmic Path Foundation Establishment Technique with you all."
The promise hung in the air—tantalizing, treacherous. The group knew Krogh’s words were half-truths, his real intentions veiled in darkness. Yet the Cosmic Path technique beckoned like a flame to moths, irresistible, stirring their deepest ambitions. All eyes turned to Donovan, awaiting the captain’s decision.
The Mister First Dominator’s brow furrowed, his mind wrestling with the risks. After a moment, he spoke, his voice measured but sharp. "Senior Brother, if you require our aid, sure thing. But could you kindly tell us why have the previous four battle squads of sect comrades who came here all perished?"