Demon Emperor’s Plunder

A young man hauled an empty fishing net from the sea, his brow furrowed in frustration. "Another futile attempt," he muttered, casting a weary glance at the horizon.

This was Shen Li, a sixteen-year-old fisherman of the isolated Shen Island. The island's inhabitants, all bearing the Shen surname, lived in modest homes constructed from local materials, their lives intertwined with the sea and the secrets it guarded.

"Sigh, sixteen years have passed, and still no benefits from being a transmigrator," Shen Li lamented.

In truth, Shen Li was not originally of this world. He hailed from a modern era, his previous life filled with the conveniences and technologies of contemporary society. A twist of fate had reincarnated him as one of the Shen family's children on this secluded island. From the moment of his rebirth, memories of his past life remained vivid

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the tranquil waters, Shen Li couldn't help but feel a pang of longing for the life he once led

In the world Shen Li now inhabited, the path to personal strength and longevity was open to all through the practice of cultivation. On Shen Island, this tradition was deeply ingrained: upon reaching the age of sixteen, every individual embarked on their cultivation journey to enhance their physical and spiritual capabilities. This rite of passage was not merely a personal endeavor but a communal expectation, ensuring the survival and prosperity of the island's inhabitants.

With his sixteenth birthday approaching next month, Shen Li was acutely aware of the impending commencement of his own cultivation journey. Despite his unique background as a transmigrator from a modern world, he had yet to experience any tangible benefits from his past life's knowledge

Shen Li gazed longingly at the distant horizon, the vast expanse of the open sea calling to him. "If only I had permission to fish in deeper waters," he mused, "I wouldn't return empty-handed."

The island's elders had long imposed strict fishing boundaries, confining the villagers to the shallows.

"The deeper waters teem with life," he thought, "yet we're barred from venturing there." He understood the elders' intentions but couldn't help but feel constrained, his potential stifled by rules that seemed increasingly outdated.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over the tranquil waters, Shen Li decided to return to the village port. The port of Shen Island was a modest inlet, its shoreline lined with simple wooden docks weathered by the relentless embrace of the sea. The air was tinged with the scent of salt and seaweed, a testament to the community's intimate relationship with the ocean.

With a population of fewer than a thousand, the island exuded a serene, almost desolate ambiance. The absence of bustling activity lent an eerie stillness to the port, broken only by the gentle lapping of waves against the hulls of moored fishing boats. The ground underfoot was a mixture of coarse sand and scattered pebbles, creating a gritty texture that clung to the soles of one's feet.

The inhabitants of Shen Island were a unique people, their appearance shaped by generations of isolation and a rare genetic heritage. Most bore pale, almost translucent skin, a result of albinism prevalent within the community. Some had striking red or light blue eyes, their irises reflecting the muted hues of the sea and sky. Interactions among villagers were minimal; a quiet nod or a brief glance often sufficed as acknowledgment.

Upon reaching the dock, Shen Li deftly secured his small fishing boat, tying the frayed rope to a sturdy wooden post. The vessel, though modest, was his lifeline to the bounties of the sea, with practiced ease, he gathered his belongings and began the short walk home

As Shen Li made his way from the stone-paved port toward the residential area, the ground beneath his feet transitioned to a muddy path, worn smooth by generations of footsteps. The path meandered through clusters of modest homes, each constructed from a blend of sun-dried mud bricks and timber harvested from the island's own groves. Roofs were thatched with woven reeds.

Despite the simplicity of their dwellings, the inhabitants of Shen Island lived comfortably. The fertile land and abundant surrounding waters ensured a steady supply of food, while the island's self-imposed isolation fostered a self-sufficient lifestyle. Trade with the outside world was strictly forbidden, a decree upheld to preserve their unique way of life.

As Shen Li made his way home along the muddy path, he was halted by the village patrol team. Their presence was unmistakable, clad in striking armor fashioned from black scales intricately inscribed with red and silver patterns. 

The patrol leader, Uncle Wu, approached Shen Li with a stern expression. "Shen Li, the elders have decided to advance the Bloodline Awakening Ceremony. It will be held two days from now."

Shen Li frowned, concern evident on his face. "It's too early," he protested.

Uncle Wu dismissed his complaint with a wave. "You are one of the seventeen chosen. Attendance is mandatory. Remember, you have been served." His red eyes gleamed with an intensity that brooked no argument.

Resigned, Shen Li nodded. "Thank you, Uncle Wu."

Without another word, Uncle Wu retrieved a sealed letter from his pocket and handed it to Shen Li.

Curiosity piqued, Shen Li accepted the letter but couldn't help voicing his concern. "Uncle, I've noticed increased patrols around the island recently. Is there something amiss?"

Uncle Wu's expression remained impassive. "Currently, there are no issues. However, it's prudent to remain vigilant, especially with the upcoming Bloodline Awakening Ceremony. The more potent your awakened abilities, the better your chances of survival."

With that, Uncle Wu signaled his team to continue their patrol, leaving Shen Li standing on the path, the weight of the impending ceremony pressing heavily on his mind.

After returning home, Shen Li removed his sea-soaked garments and donned his daily attire. Living on Shen Island, where livestock was scarce due to isolation, the diet predominantly consisted of fish. He retrieved a sun-dried, lightly salted fish—a local staple—and prepared it alongside fresh greens and herbs cultivated on the island. As he savored his meal, the familiar flavors offering both sustenance and comfort, he couldn't help but voice his concerns aloud.

"I hope during the Bloodline Awakening Ceremony, I manifest a higher-tier lineage," Shen Li mused between bites. "Otherwise, I'd bring shame to the legacy of transmigrators."

As Shen Li savored his meal, a sudden ding resonated in his mind.

"Host has reached adulthood. System activation conditions have been met."

Startled, Shen Li paused, his chopsticks hovering mid-air. Before him, an ethereal panel materialized, displaying:

Name: Shen Li

Age: 16

Bloodline: Blood Fiend of the Seventh Hell (%26)

Cultivation Level: None

His initial surprise quickly transformed into elation. "Finally, after sixteen years, the system has awakened!"

On the screen, the data scrolled into view:Bloodline Name: Blood Fiend of the Seventh HellPotential: 26%

For a moment, Li Shen's breath caught in his throat. In his clan, every member was expected to carry the proud Shen Bloodline—a mark of divine heritage and unyielding strength. The name "Shen Bloodline" was spoken of with reverence, a symbol of purity and closeness to the ancestors. Instead, his lineage was marked by a title that Blood Fiend of the Seventh Hell 

Li Shen's eyes remained fixed on the system's interface as he pondered his bloodline result."Twenty-six percent..." he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "Which level is that supposed to be?"He knew well that in our clan, every member prided themselves on the exalted Shen Bloodline. Instead, his screen now declared him a "Blood Fiend of the Seventh Hell"—a title he'd never imagined bearing. His fingers hesitated over the options as he tried to unlock more details about the bloodline qualifications.

Li Shen's eyes remained fixed on the system's interface as he mulled over his bloodline result—26% and the dubious title of "Blood Fiend of the Seventh Hell." Just then, the familiar "ding" echoed through his chamber. A new notification flashed on the screen:

"First plunder is free. Click to activate random selection. Selected item will be directly transferred to host."

Li Shen's fingertip pressed the confirmation button, and almost immediately, a rapid succession of "ding" sounds filled the silence of his chamber. The system's interface began scrolling with urgency:

"Searching for valuable plunder...Target found...Target being acquired…"

Before he could process the cascade of notifications, the display flickered—and in an instant, a magnificent cauldron materialized before him. Its form was not that of an ordinary vessel, but one imbued with a strange, dynamic artistry. Carved from ancient metal, the cauldron bore intricate engravings that seemed to come alive.

Across its surface, scenes of a relentless, epic war played out—a battle among grotesque, otherworldly bugs. Centipede-like creatures and myriad insects were depicted in constant, savage combat, devouring one another in a brutal cycle of survival. In some areas, the metal glowed with an intense, pulsing red, as if lit by the fires of conflict; in others, a deep, haunting purple radiated an almost mystical aura.

The images were mesmerizingly fluid, as though the metal itself were a living tapestry—each bug, each skirmish, continuously shifting, merging, and consuming its rivals. It was as if the entire war was a ceaseless cycle of destruction and rebirth, the last survivor destined to rise supreme.

Li Shen stared in awe, the colors and movements etching themselves into his mind.

The cauldron loomed before Li Shen like a colossus—its vast form covering nearly half the room. In any other circumstance, such an object would have been immovable, but summoned by the system into his very chamber, it defied the ordinary laws of weight and space.

Curiosity piqued, Li Shen reached out and pressed his hand against its cool, metallic surface. Almost immediately, he recoiled, stifling a pained exclamation. "Auch—what is this?" he muttered, more to himself than to anyone present.

His eyes widened as he surveyed the cauldron. The entire surface was etched with vivid, animated engravings—a ceaseless battle unfolding in miniature. Hundreds of grotesque, insect-like creatures were locked in combat; each engraving depicted a savage, unending cycle of violence. Every detail was in constant flux, as if the metal itself were alive with the memory of ancient, brutal wars.

Li Shen focused on one particularly striking scene: a cyan-hued bug, its form detailed and almost spectral, launched itself at a rival. With a single, swift motion, it obliterated its opponent, the victor's form swallowing the vanquished. This fierce skirmish was but one of countless clashes across the cauldron's surface—red, purple, and black streaks intermingled, painting a picture of carnage and rebirth.

Hours seemed to pass as he watched, transfixed by the relentless struggle. One engraving after another played out, showing legions of bugs engaging in an endless contest for supremacy. Gradually, the chaos began to resolve—until, astonishingly, only one bug remained visible in the fray. Its form was larger, more imposing, exuding an aura of hard-won dominance.

Then, as suddenly as it had ended, the engraving shifted. A new bug, different in shape and bearing a faint, otherworldly glow, emerged on the cauldron's surface. In an instant, the battle restarted. The new figure clashed with remnants of the old, the cycle of conflict reigniting in an eternal dance of death and rebirth.

After observing the relentless cycle of battle on the cauldron's surface, Li Shen's mind sparked with a daring idea. Determined to probe its mysterious mechanism, he left his room and ventured out into the mud-soaked outskirts. After a careful search, he gathered five wriggling worms from the damp earth—humble creatures that might yet serve his purpose.

Returning to the room, he approached the gigantic cauldron. Almost as if it sensed his intent, the massive head of the cauldron creaked open like a living maw. Without hesitation, Li Shen hurled the five worms into the cavernous opening. In that instant, the swirling engravings across the cauldron's surface shifted—now, only five engraved worm figures were visible, each poised for battle.

Within seconds, chaos erupted on the metal canvas. The five engraved worms sprang into a frenzied combat, their forms clashing in a savage dance. Li Shen watched, transfixed, as the miniature warriors attacked each other in a cycle of ruthless survival. In a matter of minutes, only one worm emerged victorious from the melee. Then, as if guided by some ancient ritual, the defeated worms liquefied—their remains flowing as a dark, viscous fluid toward the lone survivor.

Li Shen's eyes widened as he saw the transformation: the surviving worm, once a modest three centimeters in length, absorbed the liquid and swelled, growing threefold to over ten centimeters. Its thickness increased noticeably, and an aura of potent energy seemed to emanate from its newly forged form.

Without warning, the cauldron's head shifted again, and the transformed worm emerged from within. As Li Shen reached out to hold it, the creature wriggled fiercely, resisting his grasp with a stubborn, almost sentient force. Yet Li Shen, undeterred by its struggles, studied the worm intently. Its evolution was undeniable—a raw, transformative power captured in this singular, vibrant creature.

Marveling at the spectacle before him, Li Shen murmured, "It seems... like it's a gu pot."

Li Shen's brow furrowed as he stared at the gu worm, now pulsating with raw potential yet still thrashing in defiant rebellion. A grim thought crept into his mind. "I don't know much about gu worm cultivation," he murmured under his breath. Even as the creature's form had grown—a modest three centimeters now surging toward ten—its behavior was erratic, almost hostile. What would happen if I inadvertently cultivated a King Gu? The thought chilled him; such a transformation might turn him into nothing more than a corpse, overwhelmed by its own uncontrollable might.

He sighed, casting a wary glance at the colossal cauldron that dominated half his room. "It's not like I can't learn the art, but the troublesome part is hiding this treasure," he mused. Li Shen was acutely aware of his family's nature. The Shen family—renowned for their so-called pure blood—had always been a cesspool of ambition and greed. Every member bore pale skin and those characteristic red eyes, their cultivation methods as much a ritual of blood as they were of martial prowess. Even without a word spoken, he could predict the undercurrents of family disputes and hidden agendas that ran deep in their veins.

"If they discover this cauldron, imagine the ideas they'd concoct," Li Shen thought bitterly.

The Shen were notorious for their ruthless, blood-bound ambitions—and he knew he must shield his secret at all costs.