SHADOW SLAVE: A FINAL HOPE

Fang Yuan stood alone, staring at the runes that hovered in the air before him. The symbols were ancient and unfamiliar, but his mind seemed to decipher them with an eerie clarity. They pulsed with an energy he could feel in his eyes—an energy that seemed to resonate with the attributes he bore.
[Voidborn]. [Combat Sage]. [Otherworlder]. [Lesser Demonic Physique]. [Eyes of Weaver].
Each of these attributes was a piece of something much larger, but together, they formed a puzzle. The puzzle of his existence. Who was he really? And more importantly, what was he meant to become?
The power he felt within him was beyond anything a mere mortal could comprehend. Yet it was also a curse. He was a paradox, a creature born from nothing, who had no true place in this world. His body, a perfect vessel of destruction, was neither profane nor divine. It was shaped by the Nebulous Demon, the ancient force that had twisted him into being.
Yet the most troubling part of it all was his Eyes of Weaver.
The attribute was a mystery to him. He knew that Weaver was the Demon of Fate, the ancient being who governed the very flow of destiny or maybe just meddled with it. His gift—if it could even be called that—granted him a heightened intuition, the ability to see the threads of fate albeit in a less gandue manner and the insides of the memories and humans.
But what did it mean? What was Weaver's true purpose? And why had the Demon chosen him?
Fang Yuan felt a cold shiver run down his spine as his thoughts wandered down that path. There were too many unknowns. Fate itself was a riddle he couldn't yet solve, but something told him that solving it was crucial—not just for his own survival, but for something much greater.
The key to stopping the awakening lies in fate itself.
The words echoed in his mind, a cryptic message that had surfaced in his thoughts the moment he realized the extent of his abilities. His Voidborn nature allowed him to exist between worlds, a creature who defied the natural laws of reality. tho his innate ability [watcher] gave him unparalleled insight and intuition, especially when coupled with the [Eyes of Weaver].
But even as he wondered about his purpose, there were still so many unanswered questions.
He clenched his fist, feeling the power of his [Lesser Demonic Physique] surge through him. This body was unlike anything else. It was not simply a physical vessel; it was a weapon, an instrument of immense strength and control, not bound to fate yet tangled with it. His body was like a ghost, a being outside of fate, unchained and free to wander between the realms of reality.
He did not doubt that this body, born of the forbidden lineage of Weaver, was the vessel of unimaginable power. It was crafted not from the mundane laws of existence, but from a higher plane—a reality far beyond mortal understanding. He could feel the very threads of fate resisting him, but at the same time, it made him stronger, more self-aware.
Yet, something still nagged at him. The ability he had yet to fully understand: Nihility.
Nihility was the aspect that marked his true essence, and yet, its rank was unknown. Was it incomplete? Was it dormant, waiting for the right moment to fully awaken? Or was it something far more dangerous, something that could tear apart the very fabric of his existence itself?
He looked once more at the runes that floated before him, their faint glow casting shadows on his face. He had learned that his Aspect of Nihility was the absence of all things. It was not destruction, nor creation, but the suffocating silence that followed the birth of something new. It was the void between stars, the nothingness that stretched on for infinity.

His Innate Ability, Watcher, allowed him to perceive things no one else could. His intuition, enhanced by the Eyes of Weaver, gave him the power to see the mysteries of fate unfold. He was no longer bound by destiny's constraints; he could watch as events unfolded before him, guided by his own desires and ambitions. He was a spectator, yet he could influence the end.
He took a deep breath and let the weight of his powers sink in. He was unique, a being born not from this world, but created from the deepest void—a being untouched by fate, yet somehow intertwined with it. His very existence was a paradox, an anomaly that could either be his greatest strength or his undoing.
The question that haunted him now was: How could he stop the awakening?
His thoughts turned to the one piece of the puzzle he had yet to understand—Weaver. The Demon of Fate had created him for a reason, but that reason was still unclear. Had he been summoned to fulfill a greater purpose? Or was he merely another tool to further Weaver's unknown plans?
"Questions," Fang Yuan muttered to himself, letting out a sigh. "So many questions..."
His eyes narrowed as he turned away from the runes. He had spent too long contemplating these matters. It was time for action. He needed to find the answers, not just in the mysteries of fate, but in the world around him. and he knew it will be answered in the first nightmare.
There was something, someone, that could hold the key to his understanding. He had to find them, and when he did, he would not simply watch from the sidelines.
This was his journey.
And he would shape his fate, not the other way around.
**************
Fang Yuan stood by the window, staring out into the night. The moonlight shone through the artificial window, casting a calm glow over the room. He had spent the past three weeks alone, away from his classes. The decision had been a simple one. There were too many mysteries surrounding his powers, and he needed to understand them on his own.
The time alone had been incredibly productive. He had made progress in understanding his abilities, especially the strange new powers his body and mind now held. But there was one discovery that stood out above all the rest.
His mind.
At first, Fang Yuan thought the sharpness of his mind was just a benefit of his previous life as a venerable. He assumed the speed and clarity of his thoughts were just remnants of the many years he had lived. But over time, he realized something else: his mind wasn't just fast. It was unnaturally fast.
"I've never experienced anything like this," Fang Yuan muttered to himself.
The thoughts in his head moved with incredible speed, faster than he could consciously keep up with. Every idea, every possibility, flashed in an instant. He could analyze and process information in the blink of an eye. It was as though his mind never tired, never needed rest. No matter how long he focused, his thoughts never slowed down.
In his past life, even a venerable like him would tire after long use of mental formations or complex strategies. But now, his mind felt like it could run forever—endless, tireless, and unstoppable. It wasn't just a sharp mind; it was a mind that could outpace even the greatest geniuses of the wisdom path.
Fang Yuan shook his head, uneasy. "This isn't normal... but I need to figure out how to use it."
It wasn't just his mind that had benefitted. His body had transformed too. The lesser demonic physique had granted him strength and power beyond anything he had known before. But there was more to it than just muscle and bone. His body had an incredible ability to heal itself.
Every injury, no matter how small or large, healed quickly—too quickly, almost. When he cut or bruise himself with the sword, it vanished before he could even notice. His blood, flesh, and bones all seemed to regenerate, returning to their ideal state. This wasn't just fast healing—it was like his entire body was being constantly repaired, like a machine running at full capacity, never breaking down.
Fang Yuan flexed his arm, feeling the smoothness of his skin, the strength in his muscles. His body felt perfect. It wasn't just resilient—it was constantly being renewed. His body could heal wounds, fix broken bones, and repair itself faster than any healer he had ever known. his blood seemed to follow his will and move the way he wanted making him not bleeding even at the earliest cuts he gave himself
But there was a problem.
Fang Yuan leaned back against the wall, staring at his reflection in the dim light. His expression was calm, but inside, something was gnawing at him. His flaw.
No matter how much control he had over his body and mind, one thing was beyond his ability to control: his emotions. His face, his tone of voice—it all gave him away. No matter how hard he tried to hide what he was feeling, anyone paying attention could read him like an open book.
"I can't hide it..." Fang Yuan murmured. "No matter how much I try, my emotions show. I can't control them."
It frustrated him. His mind was like a machine, his body a perfect vessel—but his emotions? They were a weakness. In his previous life, he had been a master of control, able to hide his feelings, to deceive even the most skilled of observers. But now, in this new body, it was impossible.
But as he thought about it, a realization slowly dawned on him. Maybe he couldn't control how he felt, but he could control how others saw him.
Fang Yuan's eyes narrowed. A plan began to form in his mind.
"I don't need to hide my emotions. I just need to mislead them... twist their perception," he said, a small smile crossing his face. "If they think I'm angry when I'm calm, or happy when I'm frustrated, then they won't know what to believe."
He could exaggerate certain expressions, change his tone of voice, and shift the way he acted in a way that misled others into thinking he was feeling something completely different. If he couldn't hide his emotions, he would simply make them think what he wanted them to think.
It was a simple solution, but a powerful one. Instead of seeing his emotions as a flaw, Fang Yuan now saw them as a tool—a weapon he could use to control how others reacted to him.
"Let them think what I want," he said with newfound confidence. "I'll control the narrative. I'll use this weakness to my advantage."
With that thought in mind, Fang Yuan stood up and walked to the center of the room. His mind raced with possibilities, his body brimming with untapped power. He wasn't just learning to adapt to his new life—he was learning to control it.

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AUTHOR NOTE:- hey everyone sorry for not posting this chapter yesterday as I was busy and with some stuff btw one of the reviews said the grammar needs improvement I did as best as I can and hope this chapters grammar wont disappoint you 

and if you're reading thisDaoist3za8L4 what do mean by structure? 

please drop a comment cause I didn't get what you mean by that .