CHAPTER 315: STORY TIME WITH THE DEMON

The girls sat in a circle under the soft lights of the temporary camp.

Zain leaned back against a chair while the three girls sat across from him, a tray of snacks now between them.

Zelia held a warm teacup. "We’re ready."

Savra passed him some dried fruit. "No excuses now."

Velra poked his arm. "Talk Master. This better be good."

Zain took a bite of a rice cracker and finally nodded.

"Alright," he said with a quiet smirk. "Then let me tell you the story of my past life."

---

Once upon a time, in a land full of qi, sects, beasts, and treasures, there was a boy named Mo Tianheng.

He wasn’t from a great clan. He wasn’t some young master.

He was just a simple child from a poor farming family.

But fate gave him a gift, which was a spiritual root.

It wasn’t a top one, but it was enough to let him enter a sect.

That sect was called the Mount Shu Sect.

It is a well-known righteous sect in the region. It is strong, proud, and full of rules.

But Tianheng... was just an outer disciple. He had low rank, no backing, and no strong talent.

He was just a boy trying to survive.

Other disciples bullied him every day, took his food, broke his tools, and called him names like "Farm Dog" and "Mop Boy."

He trained hard, but no one cared. His spirit root was too average.

Then one day, everything changed.

The Demonic Sect attacked.

They were cruel and terrifying, using strange arts and dark energy.

Mount Shu Sect fought back. Inner elders clashed. Buildings exploded. Peaks cracked.

But Mo Tianheng?

He was nothing but an outer disciple.

When the fires came, no one saved him.

He tried to hide. He tried to run. But a hand grabbed him from behind.

A man in black robes looked down at him.

"Found one still breathing."

Another figure stepped out of the smoke. "Hmph. He’s just a kid."

The first man tilted his head. "He’s young enough. Might survive the trials."

Mo Tianheng clenched his fists, but he was too weak to resist.

His legs shook, and his lips stayed shut.

He didn’t cry. He didn’t beg. He just stared at the ground.

The men said nothing more. They tied his hands and dragged him away.

That was the last time he saw Mount Shu.

He was thrown into a cold, iron cage.

They took him deep into the Demonic Sect lands.

And there... his new life began.

---

Zain paused and took a slow sip of his tea.

The girls leaned in a bit more, waiting.

Savra raised one eyebrow. "So? Did they torture you or not?"

Zain gave a small shrug. "Kinda."

Velra crossed her arms. "That’s not an answer. ’Kinda’ sounds like you got a free massage."

Zain chuckled and popped another snack into his mouth. "Just listen to the rest. You’ll understand soon enough."

He chewed once, then pointed at them with the snack still in hand.

"No skipping ahead. It gets worse."

Then he swallowed and went on with the story.

---

Mo Tianheng sat quietly inside a cold metal cage.

His hands were chained, and his legs were sore from the long ride.

Around him were other boys and girls, all about his age.

Some of them were crying, some were silent, and all were scared.

They were being pulled through a dark mountain path.

The cages rattled as the cart moved.

Tianheng peeked out between the bars and saw more carts ahead and behind.

All full of children.

They were taken deeper into a strange valley surrounded by black mountains.

Thick mist covered everything, and strange statues lined the road.

Tianheng felt his heart beating fast.

"Where are we?" one boy in his cage whispered.

Tianheng didn’t answer. He didn’t know either.

Eventually, the carts stopped.

The cages were unlocked, and the children were pulled out one by one.

Tianheng stumbled as he was yanked to the ground.

A tall man with gray robes stood ahead.

His face was calm, but his eyes glowed red. His presence made the air heavy.

Tianheng looked at him and immediately frowned.

"...Golden Core stage," Tianheng muttered under his breath. "Strong."

The man stepped forward.

"You’re all lucky," the man said loudly, his voice cold but clear.

"Most people your age will never get the chance you’re about to receive."

Some of the children looked confused. Others looked hopeful.

"You are now part of a grand trial," the elder continued.

"From thousands of you, only one will be chosen."

Someone gasped.

"Chosen for what?" a girl asked.

The elder smiled.

"To become the Young Lord of the Demonic Sect."

Now everyone was shocked.

A Young Lord? That was a position higher than any elder.

It meant respect, power, and control. But they were just outsiders. Nobodies.

A boy stepped forward, trembling but brave enough to speak.

"How are we supposed to become Young Lord?" he asked. "We’re not even part of your sect!"

The elder let out a low chuckle.

"Correct. You’re not."

He glanced around, eyes gleaming with amusement.

"But in the Demonic Sect, we value strength and talent far more than bloodlines."

Then his voice dropped, and his smile turned sharp.

"However... only one of you will survive."

The air turned cold. Every child went still.

"Even the one that survive," the elder added, now walking slowly past the group, "might not be worthy. That will be decided after the trial."

He stopped and looked at them all again, his red eyes glowing.

"Prove yourselves... or die trying."

He then raised his hand and flicked his fingers.

A loud rumble echoed across the valley as a giant black gate opened nearby.

Behind it was a massive pit.

It was so deep and dark that no one could see the bottom.

It looked like it went straight into the heart of the world.

"Step inside," the elder commanded, his voice cold and calm. "This is where your trial begins."

The children froze. None of them moved. Fear clung to their faces.

The elder chuckled.

"What’s wrong? Too scared? That’s fine. Cowards don’t deserve the path of power."

He waved again.

Several guards stepped forward with long spears and sharp eyes.

Without warning, they began forcing the children forward.

"Move!" one barked, jabbing his spear.

Some kids screamed.

Others ran, tripping over their own feet, desperate to escape the pushing and shouting.

Mo Tianheng clenched his fists.

He stared into the dark hole for a second, then muttered to himself.

"I’d rather jump on my own than be kicked in."

And with that, he stepped forward and leapt into the pit.

The wind rushed past him as he fell.

One by one, the rest followed.

Screams echoed. Some fell with courage. Some fell with tears.

Then the darkness swallowed them all.

The trial had begun.