Heaven Trampling Severance

Under a perpetually muted sky, forever veiled in shades of oppressive grey, Steel-Gloom City greeted the nascent dawn not with birdsong, but with the heavy, guttural snores of its slumbering inhabitants and an ever-thickening stench that clung to the very marrow of existence. The mist, a faithful, insidious shroud, still embraced every crooked alley and crumbling wall, as if utterly loath to reveal the festering filth it meticulously concealed. Yet, to Chen Tian, the clinging fog now felt less like an oppressive weight and more like a familiar blanket, its swirling tendrils a cloak against prying eyes, and the dancing shadows within it, his newfound allies. He was no longer the trembling, easily dismissed village boy, but a nascent Martial Initiate with two integrated Essence Beads, a nascent power thrumming beneath his skin, ready to carve his own brutal path.

The Moon-Eater Howl technique, a dark, primal chant, was etched into the very fabric of his soul, a new, razor-sharp fang in a savage, unforgiving world. Its essence now intertwined with his being, a silent promise of destruction.

"Hmph. You still reek of mud, boy. The stench of that forsaken village still clings to your very pores,"

Hei Xuan's voice rumbled within Chen Tian's mind, a low, contented growl, like that of an ancient, satiated lion.

"But at least, now you reek of mud with a hint of potential. A promise of something more than mere carrion. That Moon-Eater Howl technique isn't just for hunting common beasts in the wild. It's also for cleansing the trash that dares to roam these putrid streets, for devouring the arrogance of those who think themselves strong."

Chen Tian, now accustomed to the constant, sardonic commentary of the ancient demon, ignored the gibe. He felt his burgeoning strength, a subtle hum of power beneath his skin, alien yet intoxicating. The Three-Eyed Moon Wolf Martial Soul, now a shimmering tattoo on his wrist, emanated a more stable, profound aura, its spiraling eyes swirling with an ominous clarity that seemed to pierce through the very fabric of the dim reality. He could sense the flow of Qi in the air with a newfound precision, distinguishing the spiritual auras of every living being around him, each a faint, vibrating ripple in the murky depths of this city.

"What do we do now?" Chen Tian whispered inwardly, his eyes, now a terrifying blend of violet and gold, scanning the narrow, labyrinthine alleys of Steel-Gloom City, searching for the next target, the next step.

"Are you hungry, boy?" Hei Xuan asked, his tone implying a cruel, ancient sneer, a hint of something predatory.

"There are many plump sheep in this city, boy. Fat, arrogant sheep that hoard precious treasures, that parade their meager power. And you, now, have the fangs to devour them, to strip them bare of their stolen gains."

Their immediate target was the underground fighting arena Hei Xuan had mentioned earlier. A notorious pit where cultivators gambled their fates, showcased their brute power, and lost their fortunes in a single, brutal night. Chen Tian, his battered feet moving with a new, uncanny nimbleness, followed the ancient demon's honed intuition, slipping effortlessly through the throngs of early morning crowds, a ghost in the urban mire.

Outside the arena, a dilapidated yet imposing building that seemed to sag under the weight of countless brutalities, several armed cultivators stood guard. Their Martial Adept auras, though weak in the grand scheme of things, radiated like crude torches in the pervasive gloom, casting flickering shadows. They were guardians, or more accurately, high-tier thugs, their eyes sharp, ensuring no one escaped without settling their debts in blood or coin.

"Those are mere guard dogs, boy," Hei Xuan scoffed, his voice filled with contempt. "Not terribly strong in the cosmic sense, but annoying enough for a worm like you. You don't need to fight them. We'll seek your true prey inside, the fatter, more complacent sheep."

Chen Tian, now a master of inconspicuous movement, slipped through a crack in the arena's crumbling stone wall, a dark passage unseen by ordinary eyes, a narrow fissure only discoverable by those accustomed to living and breathing in the oppressive shadows. Inside, the low, guttural din of combat, the primal roar of spectators, and the incessant clinking of coins filled the stale, heavy air. The scent of fresh, metallic blood, intermingled with sweat, the cloying aroma of stale alcohol, and the subtle tang of fear, stung his nostrils, an intoxicating symphony of violence.

The arena itself was a circular pit dug deep underground, its muddy floor splattered with ancient, dried blood and fresh, glistening crimson. Around it, rickety wooden stands, groaning under the weight of countless bodies, were packed with cultivators of various realms—from mere Martial Initiate to seasoned Martial Adept—each roaring and betting, their faces contorted with greed and bloodlust. In the center, two cultivators fought brutally, their respective Martial Souls flickering like malevolent phantoms around them, each strike echoing with primal force.

"Hoh, look at that," Hei Xuan said, his voice imbued with a gruesome delight, a connoisseur appreciating a fine, bloody spectacle.

"That's an Earth Bear, an Earth Grade Martial Soul. Strong, brutish, but simple. And its opponent is a Shadow Tiger, also Earth Grade, a bit more cunning. Both are Martial Adepts. An interesting, if somewhat rudimentary, fight to observe."

Chen Tian observed the battle intently, his enhanced senses absorbing every detail. He could feel the raw power radiating from every punch, every clumsy Martial Soul attack, vibrations in the air that hummed with violence. This was a different world from the desperate street brawls he knew; this was a public display of power, a brutal, unashamed exhibition where strength and cruelty were shamelessly glorified.

"We're not looking for those grunting beasts in the arena, boy," Hei Xuan reminded him, his voice cutting through the din like a sharp blade.

"We're looking for the overconfident sheep in the stands, the ones whose arrogance shines brighter than their actual strength. See the fat man with the jewel-encrusted necklace, glistening with stolen wealth? He just won a big bet, his face slick with greedy delight. His aura is thick with an unbearable arrogance, practically radiating an invitation for plunder."

Chen Tian focused his newly attuned Martial Soul. Through the chaotic tapestry of auras, he could pinpoint the target. It was a Martial Initiate cultivator, his body corpulent, his short sword Martial Soul flickering faintly at his side.

He sat comfortably, oblivious, spiritual coins scattered across his small, wobbly table, his face alight with smug satisfaction. He indeed exuded a thick, almost visible aura of unearned arrogance.

"That's him. Your prey," Hei Xuan commanded, his voice a low, predatory purr.

"Don't rush, boy. Not yet. Study him. Observe his habits. When is he most distracted? When is he too busy counting his ill-gotten gains to notice the wolf at his heels?"

Chen Tian spent several minutes observing, his gaze like a hungry shadow. The fat man constantly shifted his attention between the brutal fight below and the glittering pile of coins before him, his eyes darting back and forth. There was an opening, a small, subtle chink in his vigilance, a momentary lapse that a true predator could exploit. It was a rhythm, a predictable pattern of greed.

As the arena battle reached its bloody climax, the air thick with tension, and the roar of the crowd thundered like a collapsing mountain, reaching a fever pitch, Chen Tian moved. Swiftly, subtly, like the mist itself, a whisper of movement against the chaos. He slipped behind the fat man, a silent wraith in the throng. His small, nimble hand moved, a blur of motion, pilfering the heavy, jingling coin pouch from the man's corpulent waist.

ZAP!

A searing, burning sensation shot through his hand, making him flinch violently. A thin, almost invisible protective talisman, cunningly woven into the fabric of the pouch, had activated, scorching his skin, leaving a blistering mark. The fat man whirled around, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and rage, his hand instinctively going to his now-empty waist.

"Thief! You wretched little gutter rat!"

Chen Tian darted back into the anonymity of the crowd, the pain in his hand a sharp, agonizing reminder of his miscalculation. He had underestimated this cultivator's wariness, his petty precautions.

"Fool! I told you not to be careless! He had a protective talisman, you imbecile!" Hei Xuan's voice roared in his mind, a furious, thunderous echo.

"Now, be daring or die! Use your technique! This is a good chance to test the Moon-Eater Howl! This is your trial by fire, boy!"

The fat man, his face contorted with frothing rage, leaped forward, his short sword Martial Soul flickering, ready to strike, its dim glow reflecting the hatred in his eyes.

"You'll regret stealing from me, you worthless brat! I'll skin you alive!"

Chen Tian knew he had no choice. There was nowhere to run in the packed arena. He had to fight. He focused all his nascent Qi, forcing it to surge into his wrist, into the core of his Martial Soul. The Three-Eyed Moon Wolf Martial Soul roared in his mind, a silent, primal challenge, and its translucent silhouette appeared more clearly beside him, its three eyes glowing with an eerie, predatory light.

He raised his left hand, the scorched skin burning, blood dripping from his finger, staining the dirty arena floor with a fresh, dark crimson. His voice, though soft, was piercing amid the growing, terrified silence of the now-attentive crowd, a chilling chant that cut through the lingering echoes of combat.

"O wrathful moon,

You who witness the world's birth and damnation,

Unleash your teeth upon mortal flesh,

And let this putrid soul be my final taste."

As the last, guttural incantation was uttered, the Three-Eyed Moon Wolf howled savagely, a sound that resonated deep within the very spiritual fabric of the arena, not a sound heard by ears, but felt in the soul. Its three glowing eyes spun in unison, mesmerizing, terrifying. From the grimy arena ceiling, impossibly, not from the grey sky outside, but from the very air itself, a thin, purplish-black moonbeam descended, spiraling like a hungry vortex, forming a condensed energy disc directly above the fat man's head.

The surrounding people in the stands, cultivators and commoners alike, fell silent, their previous cheers now choked whispers of profound fear. A terrifying, oppressive aura emanated from the spinning disc, a vortex that seemed to suck away not only the physical light, but also all sound, all hope, leaving behind a chilling void. The fat man, initially enraged, now turned deathly pale, his face slack with utter disbelief. His eyes, wide with sudden, all-consuming terror, stammered.

"What... what is that?! This... this is impossible!"

The purplish-black disc shot forward with impossible speed. In an instant, it was sucked into the gaping, illusory maw of the Three-Eyed Moon Wolf. The fat man screamed, a high-pitched, agonizing shriek that tore through the sudden silence. His corpulent body began to shrivel, rapidly, grotesquely, his skin wrinkling and drying, as if all his life essence, his very vitality, was being forcibly drawn out, consumed by an unseen, malevolent force. His blood and spiritual Qi, his cultivation, evaporated into nothingness, sucked into the illusionary wolf's belly as a spectral feast.

CRASH!

The fat man's shriveled body collapsed, hitting the muddy floor with a sickening thud, then rapidly disintegrating, turning into a pile of fine, black dust that was swept away by the chilling wind. A thick, oppressive black mist exploded from where he had stood, spreading throughout the surrounding area, contaminating the very air.

The mist carried a strange, nauseating aroma—a blend of blood, evaporated Qi, and something far darker, something primordial, something that could poison the very soul, leaving a lingering chill. Spectators nearby coughed violently, their faces pale, their eyes wide with unadulterated horror.

Chen Tian felt a massive, intoxicating wave of energy flow into him, a surge of power that settled deep within his core. The fat man's Qi, a small fraction of his life Essence, now replenished the Essence Bead within his Martial Soul, making it glow with a newfound vitality. He was no longer exhausted; in fact, he felt invigorated, almost invincible.

The arena was utterly silent, the previous riotous cheers vanished, replaced by terrified whispers and the rustle of uneasy movement. All eyes were on Chen Tian, the ragged boy with blood-red hair, standing amidst the thick, swirling black mist that reeked of death and newly acquired power. His Three-Eyed Moon Wolf Martial Soul slowly faded, its silhouette dissolving back into the tattoo on his wrist, yet the chilling aura he radiated was far more terrifying than before, a silent testament to the gruesome power he had just unleashed.

"Hah! Not bad, boy! You managed to silence them with a single strike! A dramatic entrance, indeed!" Hei Xuan exclaimed, his delight palpable, a dark satisfaction radiating through Chen Tian's consciousness. "That was the Moon-Eater Howl technique, boy. Its side effects are a bit messy, yes, but you've proven you're no longer trash to be trampled upon. You are a wolf among sheep."

"He... he absorbed him?" a cultivator in the stands whispered, his voice trembling with horror, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"What technique is that? This... this is demonic! An abomination!" another hissed, shrinking back into the shadows.

"That boy... I saw him just a few days ago, he was just a beggar, a worthless wretch!" a third stammered, pointing a shaking finger.

"We must report him to the Iron Dragon Sect! This is an abomination! An unspeakable evil!" someone else shrieked, fear turning into righteous fury.

Despite the chaos erupting around him, the rising screams and cries of alarm, Chen Tian did not flinch. He knew he had attracted unwanted, dangerous attention. But he also knew, with a terrifying certainty, that he had proven himself. He was no longer a victim. He was a predator, a force to be reckoned with.

He felt the Qi in his Qi ocean surge, increasing slightly, a subtle but undeniable growth.

The Essence Bead in his Martial Soul felt fuller, more solid, vibrating with newly acquired energy. The Moon-Eater Howl technique not only drained his opponents, but it also replenished him, feeding his own nascent power.

Chen Tian bolted out of the arena, a sudden, swift movement, leaving a maelstrom of chaos and terror in his wake. The thick black mist he left behind would become a new, horrifying urban legend, a chilling horror story in the dark annals of Steel-Gloom City. He knew he couldn't stay in the same place for long; his survival now depended on constant movement, on being an elusive shadow.

"You've caused a bit of a ruckus, boy," Hei Xuan commented, a dry amusement in his voice. "Good. This city was too quiet, too complacent. Now, they'll know there's a new wolf among their sheep, a new terror to haunt their nightmares."

Chen Tian, guided by an instinct that was now part his own, part Hei Xuan's, found a temporary hiding place in an old, abandoned warehouse, far from the commotion, its decaying walls offering little protection but ample concealment. He sat cross-legged on the cold, dusty floor, trying to calm his surging Qi, to integrate the raw energy he had absorbed. The piercing fatigue after using the Moon-Eater Howl technique began to set in, a deep exhaustion that resonated in his bones.

"You'll need more Qi, boy," Hei Xuan explained, his voice now a pragmatic guide.

"That technique consumes a lot of energy, especially in your current state. We must find better resources. Perhaps there are some illegal auction houses in this city that sell mid-grade cultivation pills, or even low-grade spirit stones."

"What about the person who was watching me?" Chen Tian asked inwardly, a new, unsettling thought nagging at him. He recalled the persistent feeling of being observed since he broke through to Martial Initiate, a subtle prickling on his skin. "Did he see this too? The technique?"

"Possibly," Hei Xuan replied casually, his tone dismissive. "The more eyes on you, the more opportunities to devour them, boy. Unless it's an irritatingly strong high-realm cultivator, or a truly ancient being. But don't worry, I'll give you a warning, a premonition, if true danger approaches, if a threat worthy of my attention decides to make itself known."

Since the arena incident, Chen Tian's name—or at least "the red-haired boy with the wolf Martial Soul and the terrifying draining technique"—began to spread like a virulent plague through Steel-Gloom City's grimy underground. People spoke of his audacity, his ruthless efficiency, and the cold, unadulterated fear he instilled.

Some sought revenge for their fallen brethren, some wished to recruit him into their own dark factions, and some simply wanted to know who this "new demon," this "child of the abyss," truly was.

Chen Tian ignored the burgeoning rumors, the whispers of his infamy. His sole focus was cultivation, on harnessing the power that now pulsed within him. He knew he had to keep growing stronger, faster, more ruthless. The Moon-Eater Howl technique had given him a brief, intoxicating glimpse of the terrifying power he could achieve, a promise of becoming something truly monstrous.

However, he also knew how vulnerable he remained against more experienced Martial Adept or Martial Core cultivators, against the true powers of this city.

In the dark, echoing confines of the warehouse, he began to plan his next move, guided by Hei Xuan's ancient wisdom. He needed more Essence Beads, more raw energy to integrate. He needed new techniques, more fangs for his arsenal. And he needed more money, more resources, for all of it.

He would seek his next targets with ruthless efficiency. Perhaps an arrogant cultivator flaunting ill-gotten wealth in the bustling market, or a group of crude thugs oppressing the weak in a dark, forgotten alley. Each target was not just a victim, but an opportunity to replenish his Essence Beads, to enhance his strength, to feed the growing wolf within.

That night, in the hidden depths of Steel-Gloom City, a small ember, once dying, had ignited into a burning, unquenchable spark. Chen Tian was no longer forgotten, no longer a faceless victim. He was the new predator, the wolf who had found his roar, his teeth sharpened by the ancient demon. The city would feel his oppressive presence. The grey skies would bear witness. And Chen Tian's name, once reluctant to be uttered even by crows, would now be carved in blood and ash upon the rotting walls of Steel-Gloom City, a testament to his brutal rise.

"Get ready, boy," Hei Xuan said, his voice filled with a chilling, gruesome delight, a promise of untold destruction.

"This is just the beginning. We will not merely survive in this city. We will burn it to its roots, and from its ashes, we will build your empire."

And Chen Tian, for the first time in his life, felt a flicker of anticipation, a dark exhilaration. Not just fear, not just hatred, but also a profound, savage joy. He was a demon in the making, a force of cosmic retribution, and Steel-Gloom City was merely his canvas, waiting to be painted in blood and shadow.