Heaven Trampling Severance

Under a perpetually muted sky, an eternal shroud of faded grey that never truly brightened, Steel-Gloom City festered like a gangrenous boil upon the face of the Mortal Realm. Its very air was a thick, viscous thing, choked by a putrid stench—a sickening blend of parched, sun-baked mud, the acrid tang of evaporating sweat, and the cloying sweetness of decaying ambition, of dreams long dead and buried beneath its crumbling stones.

Every breath here was a struggle, a forced communion with the city's rotting soul. Here, Chen Tian, a fresh vagrant among myriad lost souls, a tiny, insignificant cog in a monstrous, grinding machine, set his battered foot. Yet, within him, resided a secret far more ancient and dreadful than any of the city's grim tales.

His blood-red hair, once a vibrant flame, was now a tangled mess of dust and twigs, a crown of debris from his recent ordeal. His tattered clothes, mere rags clinging to his emaciated frame, danced with a languid wind that reeked of death and stale despair. In his right eye, a faint, almost imperceptible golden glint lingered, a ghost of the Reincarnation Six Path Eye, while his left, a dark violet, slowly swirled with the silent, terrible power of the Void Abyss Eclipse Eye, a testament to an unspoken abyssal whisper now bound to his very essence.

He was a newborn child of the mire, yet an alien, bone-chilling aura emanated from him, subtle yet potent enough to give even the scavenging crows pause, their raucous caws caught in their throats before daring to alight nearby.

"Foolish boy. Do you intend to starve here? To wither into a pathetic husk, a feast for carrion birds? Even an earthworm, in its endless burrowing, holds a nobler purpose than yours,"

Hei Xuan's voice reverberated within the hollow skull of Chen Tian's mind, a constant, low thrum, like a bee's drone trapped in a vast, empty cavern. His tone, a peculiar mix of ancient mockery and eternal vexation, seemed to suggest he had witnessed a million deaths more heroic, more meaningful, than Chen Tian's impending, insignificant demise.

Chen Tian offered no reply, his new, alien consciousness still grappling with the sheer audacity of this entity within him. His stomach, however, rumbled fiercely, a deep, resonant growl like distant thunder echoing through empty mountains, a brutal reminder of his mortal frailties. This mortal life, once a trivial jest to the Demon Emperor who had casually drowned universes in rivers of blood, was now a tangible, agonizing ache for Chen Tian, a hunger that gnawed at his very core.

The market's putrid odors, a blend of stale food and desperate bodies, mingled with the harsh shouts of hawkers and the hollow laughter of addicts, offered no solace, only a deeper immersion into the city's grim reality.

In a squalid corner of the sprawling market, where the ground was a perpetually muddy churn, a corpulent man with an oily, drooping mustache peddled what he audaciously called "Beginner Qi Strengthening Pills." They resembled nothing so much as dried goat droppings, meticulously rolled in mud and dust, their aroma, even from a distance, was enough to sicken a seasoned demon, let alone a starving mortal. Yet, in this world, where hope was as scarce as clean water, hope itself reeked, clinging desperately to such fraudulent promises.

"Only five silver coins! Five silver for eternal power! Unlock your true potential!" the man bellowed, his voice cracking like an ancient, decaying drum, his face slick with sweat and avarice.

Chen Tian paused, his gaze drawn to the man's greasy palms, which jingled with a paltry handful of coins. Five silver coins. He possessed not a single one. Not a copper, not a speck of dust. The bitter irony gnawed at him. Even selling his shattered Soul River Grade Martial Soul, had it still existed, might not have yielded such a sum. ("Hei Xuan, do those pills… truly work?") he whispered inwardly, a faint flicker of the desperation Hei Xuan found so amusing.

"Work? Hah! Such putrid pills wouldn't even make a low-realm cultivator empty his bowels, much less strengthen their Qi! It's merely a crude trick, a desperate ploy to drain the last, meager coins from desperate wretches like you,"

Hei Xuan retorted, his annoyance palpable even within the vastness of Chen Tian's mind. His voice, now sharpened with contempt, continued, "Unless you wish to vomit your guts out until your intestines tie themselves in knots, do not touch the damned things. Even a beast-grade elixir is a thousand times more potent than that foul concoction."

Dusk began to wane, its faded light slowly bleeding from the sky, and the omnipresent mist thickened, growing heavier, swallowing every shadow and intensifying the city's pervasive stench until it felt like a physical weight on his lungs. Chen Tian continued to wander, his newly sharpened eyes observing the grim tableau around him.

He saw bullying thugs, their muscles bulging with brutish power, their laughter echoing like curses. He saw agile pickpockets, their hands dancing through the crowd like unseen spirits, their eyes quick and cunning. And he saw beggars, their faces etched with resignation, their broken bodies testament to a life spent in futility. He was, in a twisted sense, a blend of all three: homeless, potentially a thief, and undoubtedly, for now, a beggar.

"Look at that brat, with hair like dried blood!" a vegetable vendor, a woman with a face like a dried prune, yelled at him, her voice shrill and piercing. "Get out of here! Don't bring bad luck to my stall, you filthy little curse!" She even spat on the ground near his feet, her disgust palpable.

Chen Tian didn't flinch. His face, still marred by fresh bruises and old scars, remained impassive. He merely averted his gaze, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching his lips. This world truly hadn't changed. It still rejected his existence, still sought to trample him underfoot. The only difference was that now, he had a voice, an ancient, furious echo within him that shared his contempt.

"Will you continue to endure such pathetic insults, boy? To be spat upon by a common cur? In the upper realms, even a demon's single breath is more precious than all these mortal lives combined. But you… you let a dog bark at you like this, without a whisper of retaliation?" Hei Xuan sneered, his anger, cold and vast, piercing through the quiet recesses of Chen Tian's mind, making his very bones hum with ancient fury.

"I have no strength to retaliate." Chen Tian answered inwardly, his voice hoarse, a dry whisper against the roar of the demon emperor.

"That's untrue," Hei Xuan said, his tone suddenly more serious, a chilling edge to his voice.

"You have 'me.' And I intensely dislike my vessel being insulted, being spat upon like a common cur. Next time, use your brain, boy. Think. Use speed, not brute strength. Your Martial Soul is attuned for this, by my design."

Night crept in, a vast, oppressive blanket of darkness, bringing with it a bone-chilling cold that seeped into Chen Tian's very bones, making them ache. His stomach gnawed at him, a constant, sickening cramp that pulsed with relentless hunger. He saw a baker, a portly man with flour dusted on his mustache, abandon his stall, pulling down a rusted metal grate with a groan of exhaustion. He left behind only a few stray crumbs, like forgotten promises, and a single, hard, moldy bun, hidden beneath the counter, deemed too worthless even for the beggars. Instinct, sharp and primal, honed by the constant gnawing of hunger and the whispers of the ancient demon, took over. With a sudden, startling flash of speed, a movement he hadn't known he possessed, Chen Tian snatched the bread.

"Hey! Thief!" a guttural shout shattered the night's brittle silence, echoing through the narrow alleyways.

A corpulent thug, his face contorted in a snarl, emerged from the shadows, a rusty, glinting knife clutched in his beefy hand, its edge reflecting the meager moonlight. He lumbered after Chen Tian, his heavy footsteps splashing in the mud. Chen Tian ran, his skinny legs churning through the muck, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He felt slow, weak, his body still unaccustomed to this sudden burst of adrenaline and motion.

"Idiot! Not like that! Use speed! Your brain! I told you to use your senses!" Hei Xuan roared within Chen Tian's mind, his voice now a frustrated bellow, reverberating like a gong struck in his skull.

Suddenly, Chen Tian felt a subtle, almost imperceptible push on his legs, a strange lightness infusing his limbs. It was as if an unseen force, a surge of pure will, had accelerated his pace, making his muscles hum with unholy energy. His body felt lighter, almost ethereal, the clinging mud no longer so restrictive, his movements fluid and efficient. He shot through a narrow alley, a mere blur in the deepening gloom, leaving the panting thug gasping for breath, his heavy footsteps fading behind him.

"Hah! I told you you were better than mere trash," Hei Xuan grunted with a rare, satisfied tone, a hint of ancient pride in his voice.

"That's your Martial Soul. I've attuned it to your speed, to your instincts. Use it! Harness it, you fool! If you don't use it to survive, if you waste this power, I'll use it to kick you to death myself!" His threat, delivered with a mix of fury and bizarre encouragement, was a chilling promise.

Chen Tian finally found a hiding place: a narrow crevice in an old, crumbling wall, behind a putrid heap of garbage that stank of decay and despair. He slipped inside, hidden from view, the darkness enveloping him like a welcome blanket. The hard, moldy bun in his hand felt like a priceless treasure, its rough texture a testament to his desperate survival.

He devoured the bun ravenously, tearing at it with his teeth, though it tasted like sawdust mixed with the bitter tang of mold and desperation. Every bite was a small, defiant victory against a world that sought to starve him.

"Disgusting," Hei Xuan commented, his voice filled with an ancient, refined distaste. "I once ate the heart of a Primordial dragon, still pulsing with life essence. It tasted far, far better than this… this fermented filth."

"I've never eaten one," Chen Tian retorted, his voice dry, a hint of sarcasm piercing through his exhaustion.

"Of course not. In this wretched world, you can't even get a fat rat to gnaw on," Hei Xuan scoffed, his disdain for the Mortal Realm palpable.

"But don't worry, boy. Your palate will change. Sooner or later, when you rise, you'll feast on the souls of ancient Gods as dessert, and this 'bun' will be a distant, bitter memory."

Chen Tian leaned against the damp, cold wall, staring into the oppressive darkness that offered a strange comfort. For the first time, he felt a little… not entirely alone. There was something within him, something cruel and ancient, something that had witnessed the birth and death of universes, yet something that promised to alter his wretched fate. His hatred for this world, for its brutality and indifference, hadn't lessened, but now, it was tempered with a burning, desperate purpose. To survive, to thrive, and to prove that even trash like him could kick fate in the face and carve his own bloody path.

He closed his eyes. Steel-Gloom City hummed around him, a low, constant drone, chanting its ancient songs of misery and decay. Yet, in the darkness of his own mind, an ember began to glow brighter, no longer a dying spark, but one ready to ignite into an inferno.

The next dawn broke, bringing a mist thicker and more repugnant than before, clinging to the ground like a shroud of sickness. Chen Tian emerged from his hiding place, his body still ragged, his clothes caked with dried mud and blood, yet his eyes were sharper, more focused. He observed the passersby, no longer with fear, but with a cold, calculating gaze. His survival instincts, once dulled by despair, were now honed to a razor's edge by Hei Xuan's constant, insistent whispers.

"Look at them, boy. They are all blind. They think they are strong, merely because they can step on those weaker than themselves. But they know nothing of true darkness, of true power, of the void that awaits those who challenge fate," Hei Xuan's voice was a chilling whisper, like the wind through ancient, haunted ruins, stirring primordial dust.

"This world is a labyrinth, a maze designed to trap the unwary. And you, my vessel, must know how to find the shortcuts, the hidden paths to power and survival."

They headed toward the city's infamous black market, a sprawling den of iniquity where stolen goods exchanged hands and shady transactions occurred beneath the cloak of perpetual gloom. Chen Tian felt a strange urgency within him—a thirst for something more than just meager food, a gnawing desire for something that could truly change his destiny, something that could grant him the power to defy.

In a squalid corner, bathed in the sickly yellow glow of a single flickering lamp, a shabbily dressed cultivator with nervous eyes negotiated heatedly with a greedy merchant. The cultivator possessed a Martial Initiate aura, stronger than anything Chen Tian had ever sensed in his short, miserable life, a raw power that made his own new Martial Soul thrum faintly. At the cultivator's waist hung a short sword emanating a faint, ethereal glow—a Iron Grade sword, a valuable artifact in this impoverished realm.

"Hei Xuan, that sword... is it valuable?" Chen Tian asked inwardly, his gaze fixed on the weapon.

"Hmph. Decent for a mortal child like you, perhaps the most valuable thing in this entire putrid market. A Iron Grade sword. Not bad for a pathetic Martial Initiate, a mere worm in the grand scheme of things,"

Hei Xuan replied, his voice laced with the usual disdain, yet a hint of strategic cunning.

"But why do you care? You can't even properly wield that weapon in your current state, boy."

"I need money," Chen Tian stated, the brutal truth of his situation.

"Money? For what? To buy more goat droppings from that charlatan? To accumulate useless trinkets?" Hei Xuan scoffed, his ancient arrogance flaring. "If you want money, steal. Take what you need. That is the true law of this world, the only law that matters. Strength is truth, and resources belong to the strong. You are now strong enough to take."

Chen Tian felt a surge of hesitation, a residual echo of his former self. Stealing from a Martial Initiate cultivator? That was insane, a death wish for a former piece of trash like him. It went against every ingrained rule of his miserable life.

"You dared to steal a miserable bun from a dog that barked at you and chased you like carrion. But you don't dare steal from someone who doesn't even notice your presence, someone who merely stands there, oblivious?" Hei Xuan pressed him, his voice a venomous whisper, burrowing deep into Chen Tian's nascent resolve.

"What's worse? Starving to death, enduring endless humiliation, and being trampled into the mud… or taking your fate into your own hands, even if it means acting like a jackal?"

Hei Xuan's cutting words sank into his mind, bypassing his logical thought and striking directly at his deepest fears. Starving. Being humiliated. Being utterly powerless. That was the fate he desperately wanted to avoid, the past he refused to repeat. A cold sensation, like ice spreading through his veins, crept up his spine, not from fear, but from a burgeoning, terrible resolve. The fear was still there, but now, it was overshadowed by a colder, more ruthless determination.

He began to move. Not hastily, not with the panicked desperation of a cornered animal, but with fluid, almost imperceptible motions, blending seamlessly with the shuffling, indifferent crowd. He exploited every gap, every shadow, every fleeting moment of distraction. He recalled Hei Xuan's abrupt, cruel lessons on speed and observation, on seeing patterns others missed. His gaze, now tinged with violet and gold, locked onto the cultivator's coin pouch, bulging fatly at his belt, an irresistible target.

Chen Tian's hand moved. Fast, smooth, almost ethereal. Like a ghost's touch, it brushed against the pouch, a whisper of fabric, and then, the satisfying weight of coins in his palm. The movement was imperceptible, a blink-and-you-miss-it blur. The coins felt cold and foreign in his grasp, a physical manifestation of his first true defiance.

"Hey!" The cultivator spun around, his eyes wide with a sudden, dawning realization. But Chen Tian had already vanished into the churning crowd, like a wraith dancing in the mist, leaving no trace.

"Hah! Not bad, boy. Not bad at all," Hei Xuan's voice sounded genuinely satisfied, a low chuckle rumbling within Chen Tian's head.

"Perhaps you're not as useless as I thought. A budding jackal, indeed."

Chen Tian offered no reply. He simply kept walking, the stolen coins clutched tightly in his hand, their metallic coolness a stark contrast to the burning resolve in his gut. He had stolen. He had broken the rules of his miserable, previous life. This was his first tangible step on a new path, one dictated by survival, by defiance, and by the relentless, ancient guidance of a demon emperor.

He was a wolf among sheep, a predator emerging from the shadows, and Steel-Gloom City, with all its misery and corruption, was his new pasture, his hunting ground. The morning mist still lingered, thick and unyielding, but for Chen Tian, the world began to appear clearer, crueler, and somehow, more full of terrifying opportunities. He no longer begged. He took.

Chen Tian eventually reached the more squalid, dilapidated part of the city, an area filled with ramshackle shacks leaning against one another like drunken men, and narrow, reeking alleys that wound like intestines. This was where low-level cultivators and common criminals hid, a forgotten corner of the world. This place, with its pervasive stench of poverty and desperation, was his new home.

"What shall we do with these coins?" Chen Tian asked Hei Xuan, his voice devoid of emotion, already accepting his new reality.

"Cultivation pills. The cheapest ones. We must start with something that can ignite a spark, however small, in your dormant body," Hei Xuan answered, his voice firm, already strategizing.

"Then, weapons. Not for your direct use, for now. But for sale or trade. We must build something from nothing, little by little. Resources are paramount."

Chen Tian, guided by Hei Xuan's subtle nudges, found a small, almost hidden shop in a particularly foul-smelling alley. Inside, a scrawny old man with sly, glittering eyes sat hunched over a counter, meticulously weighing dried herbs on a rusty scale. The walls were lined with dusty bottles of strange, bubbling liquids and suspicious-looking piles of murky pills, their true contents anyone's guess. The air was thick with the cloying scent of herbs and something vaguely sulfuric.

"I need low-grade cultivation pills," Chen Tian said, his voice flat, his violet and golden eyes betraying nothing.

The old man, his face a web of wrinkles, scrutinized him from head to toe, his eyebrows raised in surprise, a toothless grin stretching across his lips. "A village brat? You have coins? From where did a rat like you scrounge up silver?" he croaked, clearly amused by the sight of a ragged youth with money.

Chen Tian silently showed him the stolen coins, the metallic gleam a stark contrast to his tattered appearance. The old man's grin widened, revealing more of his toothless gums, a picture of greed.

"Only two silver coins for one Qi Formation pill. That's the cheapest you'll get in this entire damn city, and it's a bargain, boy!" he cackled.

Hei Xuan snorted, a sound of profound disdain.

"Trash. That pill will only give him diarrhea. Its efficacy is a joke, barely worth the air it occupies. But for now, it will suffice. It is a start."

Chen Tian, ignoring the scathing commentary, handed over two coins. The pill felt warm and strangely alive in his palm, its murky color resembling dried mud, smelling faintly of damp earth and something vaguely medicinal. This was a beginning. A small, but significant step.

"Now, find a safe place to cultivate," Hei Xuan commanded, his voice brooking no argument. "Don't die in this narrow, stinking alley, collapsed like a beggar's corpse. That would be an eternal embarrassment to the great Demon Emperor's name, a stain upon my dignity."

Chen Tian nodded, a silent acknowledgment. He knew he had to find a truly hidden spot, where he could focus without interruption, where no prying eyes or opportunistic thugs could disturb him. He stepped out of the shop, the pill clutched tightly in his hand, his Three-Eyed Moon Wolf Martial Soul faintly flickering on his wrist, a ghostly reminder of the power now awakening within him.

He decided to search for a small cave or a hidden crevice on the desolate outskirts of the city, perhaps in a more secluded and rarely visited area where the stench was less oppressive and the mist slightly thinner. Each step felt heavy, yet a new, burning purpose pulsed within him, guiding him, pushing him forward.

Under the still-gray sky, and amidst the reeking, labyrinthine alleys of the city, Chen Tian knew his true journey had just begun. He was a tiny ember, once nearly extinguished, now, with the chilling guidance of the ancient demon within him, ready to ignite his own destiny. He would stain this city, step by arduous step, with his burgeoning power, until his name was carved not upon a forgotten gravestone, but upon the very corpses of those who had sought to bury him, upon the bones of forgotten gods.