The night after the storm of passion was silent.
Too silent.
Lucien walked through the outskirts of Crimson Edge, the Soulbinding Lotus wrapped in silk and hidden within his storage ring. He had planned to disappear into the wilderness by morning, find a secluded cave, and stabilize his newly strengthened meridians.
But the mist tonight smelled wrong.
He paused at a quiet stone bridge crossing over a narrow creek. His spiritual sense tingled. Not from lust. From danger.
And then, it came.
A flash of silver light split the night.
He twisted his body, narrowly avoiding a dagger coated in black spiritual flame.
Five figures emerged from the trees, clad in gray robes embroidered with blood-red patterns. Their faces were hidden behind masks, but the bloodthirst in their auras was undeniable.
"Lucien Xie," one of them said. "Your sins echo far louder than you think. The Purity Tribunal has passed judgment. You are to be eliminated."
Lucien tilted his head, his robe fluttering in the wind.
"The Purity Tribunal?" he scoffed. "Let me guess—one of those sects that preaches restraint while secretly breeding concubines in the back halls?"
"You dare mock the doctrine of the righteous?!"
"Righteousness…" Lucien smiled, eyes cold. "Comes second to survival."
They attacked as one.
The battle was immediate and brutal.
The first assailant struck with a chain whip laced with suppression runes. Lucien ducked low, rolled beneath the swing, and countered with a palm strike infused with demonic Qi.
The man flew backward, his ribs shattering midair.
The others weren't so careless.
Two of them summoned spirit beasts—wolf-like creatures born from shadow and bone. One female cultivator, clearly the leader, whispered an incantation. A Forbidden Seal burst to life above her palm, dripping with silver fire.
Lucien narrowed his eyes.
That was no ordinary technique.
If it hit, it wouldn't just wound him—it would erase part of his cultivation base.
He couldn't afford that.
But he also couldn't show his full strength yet.
He let them think they had the upper hand.
He bled on purpose.
Staggered with exaggerated gasps.
Drew them closer. Closer.
Until the masked leader came within ten feet, seal glowing in her hand.
Lucien's eyes suddenly snapped wide open—crimson with slit pupils.
He whispered:
"Furnace Unleashed. Level Three."
His entire body exploded with dark red light. Demonic fire spiraled from his skin. Symbols of lust and power crawled over his chest and arms, pulsing with raw Qi.
The woman froze. Too late.
Lucien vanished from sight—appearing behind her in a blink.
His hand drove straight through her back, glowing with condensed spiritual lust, and burst through her chest. Her scream was drowned in the crackling of ruptured meridians.
The others hesitated. Fear gripped them.
Lucien didn't.
He moved like a devil—dodging one beast, impaling another. Each strike wasn't just lethal—it devoured Qi.
The Ninefold Furnace didn't only empower through pleasure.
It harvested essence in battle.
By the time the moon reached its peak, the forest was silent again.
Blood stained the bridge.
Lucien stood alone, his robe tattered, his torso bare, chest rising and falling in slow, heavy breaths.
He looked down at the last body—unmasked.
A woman. Young. Pretty. Eyes still wide in confusion.
He crouched beside her, fingers gently closing her lids.
"Pity," he murmured. "You had strong Yin roots. You would've been... exquisite."
He turned to the stone bridge and dipped his finger into the woman's blood. With slow, elegant strokes, he wrote a single line across the stone.
"I cultivate through desire. Hunt me again... and I'll show you true sin."