Roran POV:

  Roran’s fingers tightened around the ancestral necklace, a cherished relic from his maternal family.

  The cold metal pressed against his chest, a tangible link to a past that felt both distant and painfully present. This necklace was not just an heirloom; it was his sole anchor to the world he had lost and the source of his strength to persevere.

  For years, the necklace had been a symbol of hope and determination. It was the one thing that reminded him of his family's legacy and fueled his drive to uncover the truth about his parents’ mysterious disappearance.

  ???

  In his previous life, Roran had discovered the necklace's true function under unexpected circumstances.

  He vividly remembered joining the Azure Sky Sect, one of the most prestigious sects within the Immortal Alliance. Elder Soryn, a respected figure in the sect, had taken notice of his potential and invited him to become his personal disciple. The Azure Sky Sect was renowned for its vast influence and resources, making it the perfect place for Roran to seek answers about his family’s fate.

  Without hesitation, Roran accepted Elder Soryn’s offer. Under the sect’s protection, he was free to focus entirely on his cultivation. The sect provided access to their finest fire-attribute cultivation techniques, including the Blazing Inferno Method, an Earth-grade mid-tier technique that refined spiritual energy into a blazing inferno, significantly enhancing offensive capabilities and cultivation speed. The rigorous training required cultivating in extreme heat, which tempered both body and soul.

  In addition to the Blazing Inferno Method, Roran trained in various Earth-grade fire-attribute martial arts such as the Flame Serpent Palm and Lava Burst Technique — skills typically reserved for core and personal disciples. The intensive training and access to these techniques accelerated his growth. Within three years, he had become a formidable cultivator.

  During the Immortal Alliance’s competition, fate took an unexpected turn. Injured in the fray, Roran’s blood stained the necklace. To his astonishment, it revealed its true nature as a planting space. This hidden function opened a realm where he could cultivate herbs and refine alchemical ingredients with unparalleled efficiency.

  Seizing this opportunity, Roran delved into the art of alchemy, quickly becoming a 1st-grade alchemist within a month. The abundance of pills and elixirs at his disposal sustained his cultivation without hindrance. As years passed, his skills flourished, and by the age of nineteen, he had reached the Foundation Establishment stage. Despite his rapid advancement, his original goal remained clear: finding his parents.

  To achieve this, he needed substantial contribution points. Elder Soryn, recognizing Roran’s determination, provided a pathway. With the elder’s recommendation, Roran joined the Shadowbane Order—a division of the Immortal Alliance dedicated to hunting and exterminating evil cultivators. Membership in this order was prestigious, offering the chance to earn contribution points through missions and combat.

  With his new position, Roran efficiently accumulated points and took the opportunity to confront his uncle, Eirik Lareth, to reclaim his family’s wealth. Using his newly connection within the Shadowbane Order, he pressured Eirik into handing over assets that rightfully belonged to his parents.

  The process ran more smoothly than expected, though not without challenges.

  “If you think you can just waltz in here and take what’s mine, you’re surely mistaken,”

  Eirik initially resisted, unwilling to relinquish his ill-gotten gains.

  Roran stood firm, his voice steady as he replied.

  “What’s yours? Everything you have belongs to my parents. You stole it, and now I’m taking it back.”

  He met his uncle’s gaze with unwavering determination.

  Eirik scoffed, his aura intensifying as he prepared to unleash his strength.

  “Do you really think you, a mere 1st Foundation Establishment cultivator, can take me on? I’m at the peak of the 6th Foundation Establishment stage! You’re out of your depth, boy.”

  Roran remained calm, unfazed by the threat.

  The power gap between the 1st and 6th Foundation Establishment stage was indeed huge, and there was no way for the current Roran to defeat Eirik. However, that was only if he came alone.

  “I didn’t come alone, Uncle. I came with the backing of the Shadowbane Order.”

  At Roran’s signal, his squadron members stepped forward, their combined presence creating overwhelming pressure.

  The Shadowbane Order is not just any group of cultivators, but a special organization formed from superior cultivators chosen by the Immortal Alliance to eradicate evil cultivators. After hearing the story from their new junior, the veteran members did not hesitate and were happy to help him.

  Realizing the futility of resistance, Eirik’s defiance crumbled.

  “Fine, take it all then. But remember, Roran, this isn’t over,”

  Eirik spat, his voice laced with bitterness.

  He clenched his fists, his expression twisted in anger and frustration, but he had no choice but to comply.

  “It was over the moment you betrayed our family,”

  Roran replied, his expression devoid of emotion.

  As Roran and his squadron reclaimed the estate, he encountered Arin Lareth, his childhood sweetheart. Standing in the hallway, her eyes were wide with a mix of surprise and joy upon seeing him.

  “Brother Roran… is it really you?”

  Her voice trembled, filled with both disbelief and hope.

  “It’s me, Arin...”

  Roran’s tone softened for the first time that day, a rare moment of vulnerability breaking through his resolve.

  But as she approached, Arin's expression changed, realization sinking in.

  “You’re here for... this. You’ve come to take it back.”

  The brother Roran that Arin knew was no longer a helpless orphaned child, instead he had gained a position of power. A power that even the head of the Lareth family did not dare challenge.

  Roran nodded, his voice steady, though the words weighed heavily on him.

  “I have to. It belongs to my family,”

  Arin’s initial joy faded, replaced by calm acceptance. “I understand.”

  With a calm expression, she watched in silence as Roran’s squadron evicted her family. When the task was done and Roran was about to leave, Arin called out to him.

  “Brother Roran, wait.”

  He turned, meeting her gaze. She had grown into a fine lady, her cultivation now at the 4th Spirit Gathering stage. They stood together in the courtyard, the air heavy with unspoken emotions.

  “I didn’t expect things to turn out this way,”

  Roran admitted, his voice tinged with regret.

  If possible, Roran didn't want their relationship to turn out like this.

  “Neither did I... But life has a way of changing us, doesn’t it?”

  Arin said with a bittersweet tone, as if lamenting what could have been.

  They reminisced about their carefree childhood, setting aside the tension between their families for a moment. Memories of laughter and shared dreams filled the air, offering a brief reprieve from the harsh reality.

  As Roran turned to leave, Arin suddenly stepped forward and kissed him. It was a gentle, fleeting kiss, filled with emotions she couldn’t express in words.

  When she pulled away, tears glistened in her eyes.

  “Brother Roran, I’m about to get married. I’m glad my first kiss was with you.”

  After saying that, Arin ran away from the place.

  Roran stood stunned, her words echoing in his mind. Looking at Arin's back as she leaves, an unfamiliar emotion welled up inside him, leaving him conflicted. He couldn't help but ask in his heart.

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  “Am I… in love with her?”

  But the reality of their positions weighed heavily, and he knew that being together was impossible.

  A few weeks later, Arin’s marriage took place. Roran couldn’t bring himself to attend, the pain of her departure plunging him into a deep depression. For an entire month, he neglected his training and cultivation, lost in sorrow and regret.

  Elder Soryn, noticing the drastic change, summoned Roran to his chambers.

  “Roran, I can see something is deeply troubling you. This kind of emotional turmoil can be dangerous for a cultivator. It could lead to the development of an inner demon.”

  The elder spoke with concern to his troubled disciple.

  Roran was the most talented and prized disciple with a promising future personally recruited by Elder Soryn. Seeing his disciple's depressed and decadent condition, Elder Sorry couldn't help but feel sour.

  “I don’t know what to do, Elder. I… I can’t stop thinking about her,”

  Roran admitted his sorrow, lowering his head, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Elder Soryn nodded understandingly.

  “Heartache is part of life, but you must not let it consume you. Perhaps you should occupy yourself with something that requires your full attention. Take on more missions with the Shadowbane Order. Hunting evil cultivators will not only earn you contribution points but also help you channel your emotions productively.”

  Roran nodded, grasping the lifeline being offered.

  “I’ll do as you suggest, Elder,”

  With renewed determination, Roran threw himself into his duties, diligently hunting down evil cultivators. For several years, he became known as a fierce protector, showing no mercy to those who threatened peace. With each mission, his cultivation advanced steadily, and over time, he reached the Core Formation stage.

  But then, everything changed when the Calamity Witch appeared.

  ???

  The Calamity Witch.

  A name that strikes fear into the hearts of all, whether they are righteous cultivators or practitioners of the darkest arts.

  She was a legend whispered about in secret gatherings, her infamy spread across the cultivation world like wildfire. Her presence sent shockwaves through the cultivation world, disrupting the delicate balance that Roran and others like him had fought so hard to maintain. The path that Roran had carved out for himself, the progress he had made, and the peace he had found were all thrown into chaos by this new and insurmountable threat.

  No one knew her true identity, her original name, or even her real appearance. She was a master of disguise, capable of assuming countless identities, slipping into and out of the most secure places unnoticed. This ability to blend in, to become anyone, added to the chilling uncertainty that surrounded her. The only consistent truth that emerged from the countless stories and encounters was that she was female—a woman whose heart had turned as cold and dark as the abyss itself.

  The Calamity Witch was not just any cultivator—she was a master of the four sacred arts of cultivation: alchemy, formations, talismans, and metal refining. Her prowess in these arts was unrivaled, making her a formidable opponent on any battlefield. But it was not her mastery of these arts that truly terrifies those who speak of her.

  It was her cultivation method—a dark and forbidden technique known as the Blood Essence Devourment Technique.

  This sinister method allowed her to absorb the life force and spiritual essence of her victims, using their vitality to propel her own cultivation forward at an alarming rate. The Blood Essence Devourment Technique was exceptionally powerful, enabling rapid advancements in cultivation that most could only dream of. However, it was a path fraught with unimaginable consequences.

  Continuous use of the Blood Essence Devourment Technique erodes the practitioner's morality, turning them into a ruthless, cold-blooded monster who views life as nothing more than fuel for their ambitions. The practitioner becomes increasingly detached from humanity, their conscience slowly withering away under the weight of the countless lives they have consumed.

  But the cost was not just moral. The practitioner must endure the constant resentment of their victims, whose souls remain tethered to the practitioner, their hatred a festering wound in the practitioner's mind. This leads to emotional instability, driving the practitioner further into madness. And as if that were not enough, the karmic repercussions of the technique are severe. The more life force the practitioner devours, the more they attract heavenly tribulations, curses, and other supernatural consequences that could bring about their downfall.

  Over time, the practitioner becomes dependent on the technique, requiring more and more life essence to maintain their power. This creates a vicious cycle of destruction and cultivation, where the practitioner is forced to kill again and again to avoid losing their hard-earned strength. It was a method that can grant rapid advancement in cultivation, but at the cost of one's soul.

  The Immortal Alliance has long banned this technique, and anyone found practicing it is hunted down and killed on sight.

  The horrors of the Blood Essence Devourment Technique were fully exhibited by the Calamity Witch. She was a living nightmare, feared by all who crossed her path. Her ruthlessness knew no bounds. She would immobilize her enemies, rob them of all their possessions—leaving them with nothing, not even their underwear—and then drain their energy to fuel her cultivation. The victims were left naked, shriveled into mummies, crumbling into dust at the slightest touch, leaving no trace of their existence.

  This was not mere rumor or hearsay. The truth of her deeds was recorded in the life stones of her victims, which captured their final moments in harrowing detail. Those who watched these recordings could only shudder in fear, knowing that the Calamity Witch was real, and that she was out there, somewhere, waiting to strike again.

  But perhaps what made the Calamity Witch truly terrifying was her cunning.

  She was not reckless, she knew when to fight and when to flee.

  If she encountered a cultivator stronger than herself or one with a prominent background and strong defenses, she would retreat without hesitation. But her retreat was not the end. She would infiltrate the background of her would-be victim—their clan, their sect, or any force that supported them—and begin her killing spree. She preferred not to draw attention to her actions, instead killing silently, methodically, leaving a trail of death that might not be discovered until it was too late.

  By the time her main target realized what had happened, they would often find themselves alone, their family, clan, or sect decimated, their foundation destroyed from within. This was the true terror of the Calamity Witch. She was not just a cultivator—she was a harbinger of doom, a force that could not be stopped once set in motion.

  ???

  Roran was not the first victim of the Calamity Witch, but he was among the earliest.

  During one of his missions, he suddenly received urgent news—his Lareth clan had been exterminated. Panic gripped his heart as he raced back to his birthplace, a sense of foreboding gnawing at him.

  When he arrived in the town, the atmosphere was eerily quiet. The entire town was under military alert, with every shop and building closed, except for those belonging to the Lareth clan. Even those buildings stood open, but they were empty, as if hastily abandoned. The eerie stillness felt like a void, swallowing all signs of life.

  Roran's heart pounded as he made his way to the clan’s settlement, where he found only emptiness. No servants, no animals, no signs of life at all. His family home, once bustling with activity, was now a hollow shell, ransacked and devoid of anything valuable. Even the servants he had hired to maintain the house had vanished without a trace.

  Turmoil brewed within Roran. Despite the clan’s treatment of him, it was still the place he grew up, the foundation of his past. Desperation took hold as he scanned the entire settlement with his spiritual power. There was no one in the entire area—except for one person lying in the ancestral hall.

  Roran’s heart raced as he rushed to the hall, fearing the worst. When he arrived, he found Arin lying on the ground. A strange formation, one he didn’t recognize, was drawn beneath her.

  Worry eclipsed all reason as he approached her, trying to wake her up.

  "Arin!"

  Roran’s voice trembled with worry as he knelt beside her, gently shaking her shoulders. Her skin was pale, her breath shallow, and her clothes were disheveled as if she had been in a struggle.

  If he had been thinking clearly, he would have recognized the situation as a trap. Perhaps he should have brought reinforcements or at least hesitated before entering alone. But his concern for Arin clouded his judgment. The moment he stepped into the room, the trap sprang shut—his spiritual power was suppressed, and he found himself unable to leave.

  Arin’s eyes fluttered open, and she looked at Roran with a weak, frightened expression.

  "Brother Roran… You must run…"

  Her voice was frail, her hand trembling as she reached out to him.

  Seeing Arin's condition weaken like this, Roran couldn't imagine what she was going through. He wanted to ask where the elders and the others were, but he held himself back. The most important priority now was Arin's condition.

  "Arin, are you okay? Stay with me, please!"

  Roran's voice filled with desperation as he clasped her hand, trying to reassure her. He wanted to fed Arin a healing pill, but because his spiritual power was suppressed, he couldn't open his spatial ring.

  Arin looked fragile and scared as she tried to sit up, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

  "Everyone… everyone here is…"

  She trailed off, her eyes filling with tears as she reached out to touch his face.

  Roran leaned closer, trying to catch her faint words. His heart felt like it was being torn apart, thinking that these were Arin's last moments. While crying, he tried to stay calm, at least he had to listen to Arin's last words.

  However, the moment her fingers brushed his forehead, her voice twisted into a sinister tone.

  "…killed by me."

  "You! You are not—"

  A cold shiver ran down Roran’s spine. He pulled back, his eyes wide with shock. But it was too late, Roran’s words were cut off as his vision blurred, and his memory ended abruptly.

  ???

  The nine-year-old Roran awoke from his reminiscence, understanding all too well what had likely happened next: his death. The truth was bitter and painful, knowing that the next target of the witch’s wrath was likely the Azure Sky Sect.

  Roran clenched his fists, a storm of emotions raging within him. He hadn’t lived long enough in his past life to know if the witch was ever defeated or to uncover her true motives. But that no longer mattered. What mattered now was that the threat of the Calamity Witch had to be eradicated.

  'How dare she use Arin’s appearance?'

  His mind replayed the scene in the ancestral hall over and over again. Arin’s terrified face, her trembling voice, and the way she reached out to him—all of it was seared into his memory. But beneath the fear, there was something else, something that gnawed at him: a deep, gnawing regret.

  In his previous life, he hadn’t realized his feelings for Arin until it was too late. He had been too focused on his cultivation, on reclaiming his family’s legacy, and on avenging the wrongs done to him. But now, with the clarity of hindsight, he understood. He was in love with her, and he had let her slip through his fingers.

  Never again.

  Roran vowed silently to himself.

  "This time, things will be different. I will reclaim my strength, I will reach Foundation Establishment first, and when I do, I will claim Arin as mine."

  The thought gave him a fierce sense of determination.

  He would become strong enough to protect her, to protect everyone he cared about. He would not let the past repeat itself. The Calamity Witch might have been a formidable foe, but Roran had the advantage of foresight, and he intended to use it to its fullest.

  The heavens had given him a second chance, and he would not squander it.

  He already knew the path to power, and this time, he would walk it with a purpose that transcended his own ambitions. He would save his clan, protect the Azure Sky Sect, and when the time was right, he would find Arin and make her his. No one, not even a monstrous witch, would stand in his way.