Dark lord of Duo Qi continent

Chapter 1: Chapter 1: Rebirth in Fire and Hatred



The darkness was endless. A deep, suffocating void pressed against him, and in that silence, there was only pain. Pain in his body, pain in his soul, pain that seemed to strip away all sense of self.

Then, suddenly, there was fire.

It surged through him, tearing apart the void, dragging him into the light. The heat was unbearable, burning through his very essence. A thousand voices screamed in his mind, but only one voice rang clear above the chaos.

"You are not him," the voice said, ancient and commanding. "What is this soul doing in my vessel?"

Yan Feng—or rather, the Earth soul that had now taken over Yan Feng's body—groaned as the heat faded. His surroundings came into focus: an altar of black stone, bloodied runes carved into its surface, their crimson glow fading like dying embers. The room was vast and ominous, the heart of some ancient, malevolent temple.

And then there were the bodies.

Dozens of corpses lay scattered across the chamber—acolytes of the sect that had performed the ritual to implant the Soul Devouring Crimson Flame. Their twisted faces were frozen in agony, evidence of the ritual's catastrophic failure.

Yan Feng's hands trembled as he pushed himself upright. Memories—not his own, but those of this body—flooded his mind. He saw himself as a boy, dragged from his home, subjected to experiments that broke his body and soul. He had been nothing more than a vessel for the sect's ambitions, a tool to contain an artificial flame that rivaled even the legendary Bone Chilling Flame.

"Why…" he whispered hoarsely, his voice echoing in the chamber. "Why me?"

But the voice in his head interrupted his thoughts.

"Silence!" it bellowed. "You are alive because I allow it. Do not waste this chance."

Yan Feng froze. He knew this voice—it could only be Zhu Yan, the soul of the ancient Dou Di who had been bound to the flame. The same Zhu Yan who had once ruled with unmatched power before being betrayed and sealed by another Dou Di, his very essence used to create the Crimson Nether Sect.

Hatred surged through him, raw and unfiltered. The memories of this body were crystal clear now: the torment, the experiments, the humiliation. It was all because of the sect.

But there was no time to dwell on his anger. A sharp sound echoed through the chamber—footsteps, hurried and purposeful. Survivors.

"Someone's alive!" a voice called out.

Yan Feng turned to see a group of sect disciples entering the chamber. Their blood-red robes were tattered, their faces pale from exhaustion. But when they saw him—the vessel they had sacrificed everything to create—something changed.

"There!" one of them shouted, pointing. "The vessel survived the backlash! Seize him before the flame consumes him!"

The disciples charged toward him, Dou Qi flaring to life around them. Yan Feng's heart pounded as panic set in. He could feel the flame within him, restless and untamed, but he had no idea how to use it.

"Zhu Yan!" he shouted in his mind. "Do something!"

The ancient Dou Di's voice was cold. "You are weak. Pathetic. Do you think power comes without effort?"

"I'll die if you don't help me!" Yan Feng snapped.

"Then prove you are worthy of my power!" Zhu Yan roared.

The flame surged to life, wrapping around Yan Feng's body in a protective cocoon. His hands moved on instinct, guided by the flame's will rather than his own. A burst of crimson fire shot from his palms, forcing the disciples to scatter.

The closest disciple wasn't fast enough. The flame engulfed him, his screams echoing through the chamber as he was reduced to ash.

But Yan Feng's control faltered. The flame sputtered and died, leaving him vulnerable.

"Enough of this!" one of the disciples snarled. He thrust his palm forward, releasing a wave of blood-red Dou Qi. It slammed into Yan Feng, sending him crashing into the altar.

Pain exploded in his chest. He coughed violently, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

"Get up!" Zhu Yan growled. "Do you want to die here like a dog?"

Yan Feng clenched his fists, rage bubbling within him. He wasn't going to die here—not after everything he had endured.

The flame flickered weakly around him as he struggled to his feet. He raised his hand, summoning another burst of fire, but it was smaller this time, barely enough to keep the disciples at bay.

"Your body is too weak," Zhu Yan said. "And your soul… it is fractured. You are no Dou Di, boy."

The disciples closed in, their weapons glinting in the dim light. Yan Feng's vision blurred as exhaustion threatened to overtake him.

And then, in the midst of his despair, Zhu Yan's tone changed.

"Someone is coming," the ancient soul said, his voice tinged with urgency. "A presence… no, it cannot be!"

A blinding light filled the chamber, followed by a deafening roar. Yan Feng barely had time to register the sudden change before an immense pressure crushed down on him, forcing him to his knees.

From the far end of the chamber, a figure emerged—a man clad in robes of pure white, his expression cold and unyielding. His aura was overwhelming, suffused with the power of a Dou Di.

"Zhu Yan," the man said, his voice like thunder. "We meet again."

Yan Feng felt the flame within him tremble. For the first time, Zhu Yan's voice was laced with fear.

"You…" Zhu Yan hissed. "The traitor. You dare to show your face here?"

The man didn't respond. He raised his hand, and a wave of blinding white fire erupted from his palm, engulfing the chamber. The disciples screamed as they were incinerated, their bodies reduced to nothingness in an instant.

Yan Feng braced himself, expecting to be consumed as well, but the white fire passed over him without harm.

"Your time is over, Zhu Yan," the man said, his voice reverberating through the chamber. "You should have stayed in your prison."

The flame within Yan Feng flared violently, resisting the man's power. Zhu Yan's voice rang out in his mind, filled with desperation.

"Boy!" he shouted. "If you want to live, run! I cannot protect you from him!"

Yan Feng didn't need to be told twice. Summoning the last of his strength, he staggered to his feet and bolted for the nearest exit. Behind him, the chamber shook violently as the two Dou Dis clashed, their power tearing through the ancient structure.

The last thing he heard before the world went dark was Zhu Yan's voice, faint and distant.

"Live… and make them pay…"

---

Yan Feng awoke hours later, his body battered and his mind reeling. He was lying in the middle of a dense forest, far from the ruins of the Crimson Nether Sect.

The flame within him was weak, barely a flicker. Zhu Yan's presence was gone, leaving only an aching void.

But Yan Feng's resolve burned brighter than ever.

"They destroyed you," he muttered, his voice hoarse. "They turned me into this… but I'll make them pay."

He clenched his fists, his gaze hardening. He was no longer the weak, helpless boy who had been a pawn in the sect's schemes. He was Yan Feng now—a soul from Earth with the knowledge of this world and a hatred that burned hotter than any flame.

The sect would regret ever crossing him.

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