Chapter 453

He struggled to stand, but sharp pain radiated from his chest, leaving him unable to move.

"Hmph, overestimating your own capabilities." The man in black glanced coldly at Rowan, then raised his weapon to end the boy’s life.

"No... I can’t just die like this!" Rowan shouted with all his might, eyes filled with despair and unwillingness.

But it was too late, the weapon swung down toward Rowan’s neck.

With a muffled thud, Rowan’s head was viciously crushed, blood splattered everywhere, the focus faded from his eyes, and his body slumped lifelessly to the ground.

The moonlight remained hazy, but upon these ruins, a cold corpse had been added.

Rowan’s path of revenge had ended before it even began, reality denied him even the chance to avenge his grandfather, everything vanished like a popped bubble the moment that blade fell.

Adam fell silent, he had never expected this.

What happened to the young man’s path of revenge?

He had been waiting for the boy to activate his protagonist plot armor, exact his vengeance, and ascend to the peak as a Saint.

And you show me this instead?

But thinking carefully, it made perfect sense, as the grandson of the sect leader, Rowan would be a primary target, there was no way those men in black would let the boy off.

Perhaps this was the true reality of the cultivation world.

Adam sighed, looking at the corpse, he mourned in silence for three seconds.

The scene seemed to freeze.

The sun rose and the moon set, the body remained unattended and unburied, slowly, it began to rot, maggots appeared on his flesh.

The boy lay amidst ruins, but his soul was frantically struggling in darkness and unwillingness, as if trying to tear apart the nothingness binding him, though his eyes saw only darkness, the flames within his heart raged like boiling magma, deep resentment toward his enemies, fury against the injustice of fate, and a defiant challenge to the endless dark.

Within this boundless darkness, Rowan’s resentment found an outlet, it coalesced into terrifying power, causing a shocking mutation in his soul, his eyes no longer emitted a faint blue glow, instead, they flickered with scorching, maddened ghost fire, a flame intent on devouring everything, illuminating the endless dark.

Under his resentment, his body turned transparent yet hardened, as if forged from pure malice and fury, making him indestructible.

Finally, one day, under the veil of night, a deathly pale soul slowly drifted out from Rowan’s cold corpse, its eyes were stark white, horrifying to the extreme.

Adam’s heart skipped a beat, he’s turned into a vengeful spirit.

Rowan’s ghost roamed frantically in the dark, he was no longer the youth he once was, but a crazed entity devoid of sanity, driven solely by the instinct for revenge.

Through pupil-less eyes, he seemed to spot the men who had murdered him and his grandfather, their figures became infinitesimally small, he no longer harbored hesitation or mercy, only boundless rage and madness.

The figure vanished.

The scene shifted abruptly.

Like a silent bolt of lightning, Rowan’s ghost infiltrated the valley where the men in black were stationed, they were immersed in the joy of plunder, entirely unaware that the shadow of death had shrouded them.

Rowan’s ghost darted through the darkness, with a wave of his hand, his long, deathly pale fingers pierced right through a man’s body.

Screams echoed through the night, but against this crazed vengeful spirit, their resistance was futile.

Rowan’s ghost tore through the camp like a grim reaper, a mere wave of his hand and the men fell one after another.

Their agonizing screams could not sway him, his heart held only revenge and madness.

Although the ghost seemed incapable of feeling the catharsis of revenge, it possessed only one driving thought.

Kill.

The more he killed, the more his stark white eyes were replaced by a bloody aura, they turned unimaginably crimson, radiating a horrifying stench.

Adam narrowed his eyes, this vengeful spirit is evolving toward a Rakshasa.

When the final man fell, Rowan’s ghost ceased his attacks.

He stood quietly in the center of the camp, staring at the corpses, within the valley, no one remained to kill.

Yet his eyes still brimmed with madness.

Adam understood, the boy’s soul had plummeted into the abyss of darkness, even with vengeance fulfilled, Rowan’s ghost could never reclaim his former self, he could only wander eternally in this dark void.

Moonlight cascaded down, illuminating the ghost, the boy’s clear, bright eyes had forever been left behind on the night he sparred with his grandfather.

Now, these eyes flashing with crazed light bore witness to a youth’s journey from life to death, from despair to maddened vengeance.

Adam looked at the vicious spirit the boy had become.

There could be only one end for him, to be eradicated as an evil entity by the orthodox sects.

But perhaps, for him, this would be the best ending.

Just as Adam had this thought, the scene shifted once again.

Night draped over a silent village like thick ink, only the occasional bark of a dog and the rustle of wind broke the silence.

This peace was about to be shredded by a crazed and irrational power.

A vicious spirit swayed beneath the moonlight, revealing its hideous visage, its eyes flickered with blood-red light, and a cruel, eerie smile hung on its mouth.

Adam was shocked, this was that youth.

Rowan had evolved from a vicious spirit into a Rakshasa, his strength had become even more terrifying, and he was now a horrifying existence driven by endless resentment and fury.

The village dogs began barking frantically, waking the sleeping villagers.

"What are the dogs barking for? If you keep barking I’ll..." A bare-chested, burly man walked out, but before finishing his sentence, his head was violently crushed by the Rakshasa.

A woman at the door saw the scene and screamed before fainting instantly.

The Rakshasa did not spare her, similarly crushing her heart.

Adam’s heart grew heavy, the youth’s talent was indeed formidable, even after becoming a ghost, his progress was rapid, but could the Rakshasa at this moment still be called a youth? It was clearly just an evil ghost that only knew slaughter.

A/N:

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