Sunny stood perfectly rigid. Splinters of jagged bone and corrosive, dark-purple sludge coated the stone.
A low-tier Shadow-Viper had just been detonated by an unstable dark ritual, and the resulting splatter of necrotic matter was disgusting.
Internally, Sunny was experiencing a massive wave of nausea. He desperately wanted to pinch his nose to block out the putrid stench of melting flesh.
The stress of constantly navigating this cutthroat demonic sect was giving him a permanent, throbbing headache. He was completely exhausted, physically weak, and entirely unequipped to handle the gruesome realities of a slaughter-cult.
However, he could not show a single fraction of that internal weakness. In the Demonic Path, displaying discomfort was an open invitation for a dagger in the back.
Therefore, Sunny projected his innate villainous aura to its maximum capacity, allowing a suffocating, heavy pressure of dark Qi to roll off his shoulders in thick waves.
Disciple Zhao knelt a few paces away, his forehead pressed so hard against the jagged obsidian that his skin threatened to tear. Zhao was not merely anxious; he was entirely consumed by mortal dread.
His limbs shook violently, and a cold sweat drenched his dark robes. He was absolutely terrified of being murdered. In Zhao’s mind, the Young Master’s silence was a clear indicator of impending torture.
Zhao dared to peek upward, his vision blurring with tears of terror. He saw Sunny’s glowing red eyes fixed upon the gore. He instantly concluded that the Supreme One was dissatisfied with the volume of the blood-spray and was currently calculating whether Zhao’s own vital organs would yield a more pleasing aesthetic upon the altar.
"Supreme One," Zhao whimpered, "I swear upon my soul-tether, I did not interfere with the array!"
Sunny merely shifted his gaze toward the disciple. He just wanted Zhao to fetch a bucket of water and wash the foul-smelling sludge away so they could leave.
Before Sunny could formulate a properly menacing command to clean the floor, a bright, bubbly voice suddenly echoed within the direct center of his consciousness.
[Ding! Greetings again, Master! Your unparalleled evil has resonated with the cosmos!] The System girl chimed,
[Congratulations! Because you have successfully stabilized your Commander-tier fiend, the Supreme Merge System has unlocked a brand-new, world-breaking function! You are no longer limited to biological entities! I proudly present the ’Inanimate Tri-Forge’ skill!]
Sunny’s mind blanked completely. He stopped breathing for a full second, the shock of the notification completely stalling his thought processes.
[That is right, Master! You can now forcefully combine exactly three inanimate objects to create something entirely new! This includes ritual tools, cursed armaments, and execution weapons! Throw three trash-tier rusted swords into the forge, and watch them merge into a supreme, soul-rending blade! The potential for mass destruction is now literally in the palm of your hand!]
’A new skill? Combining three inanimate items?’ Sunny was mentally reeling. This changed everything about his survival strategy.
He could scavenge broken weapons from the battlefields and merge them into defensive artifacts to keep his fragile human body safe.
Because he was entirely lost in his internal shock and rapid calculations, Sunny remained completely silent and perfectly still.
The Young Master was staring directly at him, his crimson eyes glowing with unfathomable dark power, refusing to answer the plea for mercy.
"I will flay my own skin! I will offer my fiend to the feeding pits!" Zhao frantically escalated his promises, sobbing as he pressed his face back into the toxic sludge on the floor.
He believed Sunny’s silence was a rejection of his initial apology, a silent demand for a heavier, bloodier tribute.
"..." Sunny merely gave a slow blink. He decided that speaking would only reveal the exhaustion in his voice, so he maintained his muteness.
Surrounding the altar, several dozen lower-ranking cultists had gathered, drawn by the explosive noise of the failed ritual.
They hovered at the edges of the square, their eyes wide with fear as they observed the Young Master subjecting his servant to such profound mental agony.
Suddenly, a heavy set of spiked boots slammed against the stone. Vanguard Captain Kael stalked into the square, his halberd resting casually over his shoulder.
He glared at the lingering crowd with absolute disgust.
"Why do your eyes wander when your hands should be steeped in blood?! Kael roared,
"Have you completed your marrow-draining incantations for the cycle? Disperse immediately and return to your blood-arrays! The next parasite I catch idling will be fed alive to the Abyssal hounds!"
The terrified onlookers scattered instantly, fleeing back into the gloomy corridors of the sect to resume their brutal tasks, desperate to escape the Enforcer’s wrath.
Sunny turned his back on the horrific mess and began walking toward the inner sect. He needed to test this new Tri-Forge skill immediately, which meant he needed access to high-grade inanimate materials.
As he walked along the winding, bone-lined pathways, the environment grew increasingly oppressive.
The sect was a monument to suffering. Passing by the heavily warded entrance to the Poison Pavilion, Sunny witnessed a grotesque display of demonic hierarchy.
A towering Abomination-Golem, stitched together from the rotting limbs of fallen giants, stood watch.
As it breathed, thick streams of highly acidic sludge drooled from its mismatched jaws, splashing directly onto the bald head of the ancient, blind Sentinel meditating below it.
The Sentinel did not even flinch as the acid sizzled against his scarred scalp. He merely sat in silence, casually sipping a cup of steaming blood-tea.
Sunny felt his stomach churn at the sight. The sheer normalized horror of this world was mentally draining.
He averted his gaze, strictly controlling his facial muscles to ensure he looked like a sovereign lord surveying his domain, rather than a terrified civilian trapped in a nightmare.
His destination was the Blood Bone Hall...
Deep within the subterranean chamber, Grand Elder Shen He sat upon a throne carved from fused spinal columns. He was currently reviewing a glowing parchment detailing the casualty reports from the southern swamps.
Sunny stepped into the chamber without waiting for an announcement.
"Young Master," Elder Shen He said, lowering the parchment. He did not bother to hide his surprise.
"The Vanguard has already deployed. What dark purpose brings you to my domain?"
Sunny stood tall, his dark robes absorbing the eerie green light of the soul-fires. Internally, he was sweating profusely. He was about to make an unprecedented demand that violated centuries of sect tradition.
If the Elder saw through his bluff, Sunny could be subjected to a lethal disciplinary trial.
"I require the access sigil to the Forbidden Armory of the Ancients," Sunny stated.
Elder Shen He’s aged eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. He was profoundly shocked.
"The Forbidden Armory? You speak of madness. Sect law dictates that a disciple must survive ten full cycles of the outer-court blood-tithes before they are even permitted to look upon the doors of the ancient treasury. You demand to bypass a decade of mandated slaughter?"
The Elder assumed this was a joke born of pampered arrogance. No disciple, not even the heir, bypassed the blood-tithes.
"..." Sunny offered no explanation. He simply stared back, projecting his villainous aura, letting the silence fill the cavernous hall.
He told himself that explaining his need for three inanimate objects to fuse together would sound like the rambling of a lunatic. Silence was his only shield.
Elder Shen He scrutinized the boy. He looked for a trace of hesitation, a flicker of cowardly entitlement. Instead, he saw only bottomless, crimson voids staring back at him.
He felt the coldness radiating from Sunny’s posture.
The Elder’s mind began to race, filling in the blanks of Sunny’s silence with terrifying assumptions. The boy had recently ascended ten Commander-tier fiends with impossible speed.
Now, he demanded access to the most lethal artifacts the sect possessed.
The Young Master was clearly preparing to unleash an apocalyptic dark art that required ancient catalysts.
"You possess a terrifying certainty," Shen He finally murmured,
"Very well. If your hunger for slaughter is so absolute that you dare challenge the ancient laws, I shall grant you the sigil. But know this: the artifacts within are cursed. If your soul is not heavy enough to bear them, they will devour you from the inside out."
"Acceptable..." Sunny replied. He took the glowing black sigil from the Elder’s outstretched hand and turned on his heel.
As he walked out of the Blood Bone Hall, Sunny maintained his imposing stride. Inside his mind, however, he was frantically weeping.
He had just voluntarily secured access to a room full of cursed, soul-devouring weapons!