Chapter One: Disgrace

The Wildlands were a prison crafted by heaven and earth, a place that allowed entry but forbade escape. For more than a thousand years, all those guilty of heinous crimes had been exiled here. Thus, it was also known as the Realm of Sins.

Within this desolate domain, cities marked the borders, and there were no laws—only the supremacy of the strong. The powerful could trample the dignity of the weak at will, ruling vast territories from lofty heights.

In one of the more remote regions lay Bloodcloud City, jointly controlled by the Yang and Li families. The scions of these two clans were notorious for their arrogance and lawlessness, their audacity unbridled.

Bang!

A figure was kicked out of a room in the Yang residence, smashing through the door and crashing to the ground, leaving a long trail across the earth.

The young man, clothed in black, bore an almost handsome face twisted in rage. His fists clenched so tightly that his nails pierced his palms, blood dripping freely. A filthy footprint marred his chest.

“Look, Chu Jie’s been beaten by the young master again,” whispered a little maid to her companion in the courtyard.

“Yes, he’s so pitiful. Who knows how he offended the young master this time!”

As they spoke, another youth burst from the house—about Chu Jie’s age, yet his face radiated insolence and violence. Dressed in emerald green, his eyes were filled with murderous intent.

Crack! The whip in his hand lashed out, unfurling in a straight line through the air, tearing Chu Jie’s shirt apart and leaving a red, bloody welt on his back.

Chu Jie’s body went rigid, his head bowed, eyes blazing with a fury that threatened to erupt.

His fists trembled as he reminded himself again and again to endure. Only by enduring could he have his chance at revenge!

Bang!

Seeing Chu Jie lower his head filled Yang Yun with a sense of powerlessness, as if striking cotton. “You wretched slave!” he spat, kicking Chu Jie with the strength of a Fifth Level Body-Refining cultivator. The blow made Chu Jie’s organs tremble, and he vomited blood.

Blood gushed from his mouth as Chu Jie lifted his head, his eyes fixing on Yang Yun with murderous intent. If looks could kill, Yang Yun would have been riddled with thousands of holes.

That gaze sent a chill through Yang Yun. He narrowed his eyes, the whip cracking ominously in his hand. “How dare you look at me like that!”

The whip lashed down, tearing open Chu Jie’s flesh and staining his tattered clothes with blood.

Chu Jie dropped his head, letting the whip rain down upon him, while inside he howled in madness: Endure! I must endure! Once midnight passes, Yang Yun will die by my hand! I will avenge my father!

Crack! Crack! The sound of the whip striking flesh echoed through the entire Yang estate.

The maids nearby watched in terror as bloody gashes multiplied across Chu Jie’s body, their faces pale as death.

“Do you think the young master will beat Chu Jie to death?”

“Who knows? The young master is terrifying.”

“Quiet! If he hears you, you’ll die too!”

“Did you hear? They say Chu Jie’s father was beaten to death by the young master, just like this.”

“I heard that too, but it was years ago.”

Hatred.

Boundless hatred made Chu Jie bite through his lip, the taste of blood spreading in his mouth. The pain only deepened his loathing for Yang Yun and the Yang family. His fists clenched, his eyes bloodshot, and he raged inwardly: Midnight! Tonight at midnight will be the end of you, Yang Yun!

The lack of screams only further enraged Yang Yun. He crouched down, seized Chu Jie’s hair, and spat venomously, “Chu Jie, do you really think I can’t kill you?”

Without waiting for a reply, Yang Yun kicked him over, his face twisted with fury. “Killing you would be as easy as crushing an ant, you useless wretch!”

Crunch! Another kick shattered one of Chu Jie’s bones. “The way I killed your father is how I’ll kill you,” Yang Yun jeered.

He continued to stomp down, forcing Chu Jie to cough blood. Hearing Yang Yun confess to his father’s murder only made Chu Jie’s fists clench even harder.

Revenge! So long as I can avenge my father, all the suffering I’ve endured will be worth it!

“Young master, please, spare Chu Jie,” pleaded an old, shriveled servant, falling to his knees beside Yang Yun and kowtowing desperately.

A cruel smile curled Yang Yun’s lips. “Uncle Wang, you want me to spare him?”

Sensing the chill in Yang Yun’s voice, Uncle Wang trembled. “I wouldn’t dare, young master. It’s just that today is the master’s birthday—a day of good fortune. It’s not right to kill.”

Yang Yun’s expression softened slightly. “Chu Jie, if you want to live, it’s simple. Crawl over and beg for forgiveness.”

Chu Jie’s heart seized, his face twisting with humiliation.

But he knew he still wasn’t Yang Yun’s match. After a moment’s turmoil, he raised his head and said expressionlessly, “Young master, I know I was wrong.”

“Oh?” Yang Yun arched an eyebrow, mocking. “I didn’t hear you.”

Shame and fury stained Chu Jie’s face crimson. He gritted his teeth, a flash of murderous intent passing through his eyes, but he bowed his head and shouted, “Young master, Chu Jie knows he was wrong!”

The moment the words left his lips, a wave of blood roared through his body, and he felt as though he might explode. Humiliation flooded his insides, making him tremble.

The killing intent in his eyes was sharp as blades. In Chu Jie’s heart, Yang Yun was already a dead man.

“Hmph. As long as you know your place,” Yang Yun sneered, kneeling in front of Chu Jie and slapping his face. “Remember, you’ll always be the Yang family’s dog. You’ll die whenever I wish it.”

Yang Yun burst into arrogant laughter. “Now crawl!”

Enduring the agony, Chu Jie struggled to his feet.

“I said crawl, not walk!” Yang Yun’s face, moments ago full of laughter, turned cold.

Chu Jie clenched his eyes shut, fists trembling—if I kill Yang Yun now, my chances of success are only thirty percent, he thought grimly.

When Chu Jie hesitated, Yang Yun lost interest and kicked him so hard he flew through the air like a broken kite, crashing to the ground five or six meters away.

Yang Yun spat disdainfully in Chu Jie’s direction before turning to leave.

Chu Jie’s face twisted with pain, blood seeping from his lips. His eyes fixed on Yang Yun’s retreating back, the urge to kill swelling within him.

He dragged himself back to his kennel, eyes sharp as daggers, his downcast face contorted with a savagery no servant should possess.

He opened his hand—his palm was slick with blood.

Endurance.

Born a servant in the Yang household, Chu Jie had known from a young age the need to endure. Ever since Yang Yun beat his father to death before his eyes, he understood this lesson even more deeply.

But Chu Jie was no coward who only knew how to endure.

Vengeance was a principle he lived by.

The thought that tonight he would finally slaughter Yang Yun made his eyes blaze with a savage light.