The Hidden Evil: Villainous Cultivator

Up on the hills, Crow and Razor were just about to descend to check for Ye Feng's body when they heard police sirens in the distance. Their eyes met in silent understanding, and without hesitation, they turned back. Jumping into their car, they sped away into the night, leaving behind nothing but the echo of their tires screeching against the gravel.

A minute later, several police cars arrived at the crash site. Officers quickly scanned the scene and, upon assessing the severity of the incident, contacted their superiors. Soon, an investigation team was assembled to dig into the matter.

Meanwhile, down the hills, Ye Feng lay motionless. Blood pooled beneath him, seeping into the cold earth. His body was drained of strength—he couldn't even lift a finger. The pain was unbearable, yet the cold creeping into his limbs told him that it wouldn't last much longer. His vision blurred, his breaths shallow, death looming over him like an unshakable shadow.

As his consciousness flickered, memories flooded his mind—his childhood, the countless struggles, the relentless training. He had spent his life enduring torment, pushing himself beyond his limits, always striving to be stronger, smarter, better. But now, in the face of death, a bitter realization struck him:

For what?

What had he truly gained from all of it? No great achievements, no cherished moments, no real happiness. Just suffering. Just survival. 

And why was he even struggling so much, just for survival, there was no goal in his life he wanted to survive get stronger and then what he will die one day after getting old, if that day came he would be asking same question. By playing a game that this world set him, following the rules that were restrictions imposed on him, now he does not wanted to play it anymore, he just wanted to flip the table and say," Fuck you".

But the reality was not giving him a chance to do so. He wasn't even sure if anyone would remember him. Maybe Ning Xiao and Bai Shuang would grieve for a while. A month? A year at most? Then, like all things, he would become a distant memory—his face forgotten, his name buried under the weight of time.Maybe some years later they will not be able to remember his face, and then maybe they will even find it difficult to remember his name.

A hollow laugh formed in his mind, though his lips remained unmoving.

Ironically, the very place where he had once been rescued as a two-year-old, the place where his mother had perished in a car accident, was now where he was fated to die.Life came to a full circle to him , he survived here once but now he was going to be claimed by death.

But he was unwilling.

He refused to let things end like this.

A fire sparked within his fading soul—a desperate, defiant ember refusing to be extinguished. If he were given another chance, he swore, he would live differently. No more playing by the rules of others, no more submitting to fate's cruel hands. He would carve his own path, dictate his own destiny. Even death itself wouldn't dictate his end.

With that promise, a seed was planted deep within him—the seed of free will.

But Someone will ask ,What is free will?

It is the power to choose amidst the chaos of life. A force that allows individuals to shape their own paths despite the constraints imposed upon them. Yet, it is not absolute—bound by circumstance, bound by biology, bound by consequence. It is both a gift and a burden, granting the freedom to dream, to err, to grow—while demanding responsibility for every action taken.

Is there anyone who can truly act upon their own will? The answer is no. Society's rules, one's own limitations, and the hand of fate all weave together to shape a person's journey. But is fate truly unchangeable?

Perhaps at birth, a path is set. But through will, through sheer determination, fate can be altered. Illnesses can be treated, death can be delayed, circumstances can be overturned. Those who surrender to life as it is are merely letting fate dictate their course. But those who fight, who struggle, who defy—perhaps they are the ones who truly live.

Back in reality, Ye Feng's eyelids grew heavier. The sharpness he had felt moments ago—the fire of defiance—faded as exhaustion overtook him. His body could fight no longer.

Just before his vision turned completely dark, he saw a figure approaching—a man in his fifties, dressed in a flowing white robe. The stranger crouched beside him just as Ye Feng's consciousness slipped away.

Xia Wentian gazed down at the bloodied young man, his brows furrowing in contemplation. With a sigh, he muttered,

"Perhaps this is fate."

Had Ye Feng been able to respond, he would have scoffed. Fate? One day, I will fuck that bitch.

Xia Wentian knelt beside him, pressing two fingers to Ye Feng's wrist. A faint glow emanated from his touch as he channeled energy into the dying boy's body.

Slowly, the bleeding ceased. The erratic, weakening heartbeat steadied. His breath, which had been moments away from stopping, grew stronger, deeper, stable.

A miracle.

Xia Wentian—a cultivator from a secret dimension—had only arrived in the outside world two days ago, seeking a temporary escape from his secluded life. Three minutes ago, he had sensed the distant sound of an explosion and, out of curiosity, decided to investigate. Moving with near-lightning speed, he had arrived at the scene just in time to find Ye Feng on the brink of death.

He had hesitated for a moment.

Should he save this boy? Or leave him to his fate?

After a brief pause, he made his decision.

And that choice... would change everything. If he knew that his decision today will lead to destruction of so many lives ,he would have choosen otherwise. But wheel of the fate started turning in another direction that will change the fate of whole universe.