Devil's Shadow, Heaven's Bane

The Scripture Hall loomed before them, its obsidian doors adorned with carvings of writhing demons and twisted figures. As the doors creaked open, a thick, oppressive air seeped out—an invisible force pressing upon their souls.

Inside, rows of towering shelves stretched into the darkness, each filled with manuals bound in blackened leather, inscribed with infernal script. Flickering lanterns cast eerie shadows across the stone walls, their dim glow barely illuminating the depths of the hall.

An elder, clad in deep crimson robes, awaited them within. His presence was subdued yet suffocating, a silent warning of his authority. His gaze flickered over them with neither approval nor disdain.

"You may each take one manual. The sect does not grant second chances."

With that, he gestured them forward. The eight disciples stepped into the vast chamber, the weight of their choice settling heavily upon them.

Zhang Yan's eyes scanned the shelves, each title promising power at a price. Blood-Shadow Steps. Thousand Phantom Strikes. Cursed Bone Refinement. Each tome called to him, whispering promises of dominance, of vengeance, of the road he was destined to walk.

He reached out, his fingers brushing against the spine of a manual. The script burned into his mind as he read:

Devouring Nine Shadows.

A technique shrouded in obscurity, its pages filled with methods to refine one's corrupted qi through the devouring of others' shadows, assimilating their essence into one's own strength. It was not the most openly destructive technique, nor the flashiest, but it held something far more valuable—endless potential.

Zhang Yan's lips curled into a faint smirk. This one.

Elsewhere, Qian Feng had selected his own tome, his grip firm around a volume titled Ravenous Devil Claw, a technique known for its brutal, bone-shattering strikes.

One by one, the eight disciples made their choices, each stepping onto a path that would define them. The doors of the Scripture Hall groaned as they were shut behind them, sealing their fates along with their selections.

As Zhang Yan walked away, the weight of his manual in his hands, he felt it—an unshakable certainty.

This was only the beginning.