The sun never shined in the Weeping Bone Forest—but today, the sky was unnaturally still.
Yi Zhen stood barefoot on a circle of charred symbols carved into the soil. His hands were pressed together in the Mudra of Hollow Recognition, a gesture not known in any orthodox manual. In front of him, a stone slab displayed the etched words of the Second Inverse Realm:
> "The Stem of Ruin: Only through decay can shape emerge."
He breathed slowly, sinking deeper into the rotted consciousness that had become his cultivation path. The Qi in this realm didn't flow—it coiled, knotting around his core like barbed vines. This realm required him to destroy not just what he hated, but also what he once cherished.
Visions bled into his mind. His first master. The younger disciples who once looked up to him. Warm smiles warped into corpses. He felt his own love crack into resentment. That pain condensed, coalescing inside his dantian like a stem twisting upward through mud.
Suddenly, the air shattered—literally. A line in space tore open, and three figures stepped out.
The girl from three days ago stood upright, pale and silent. Her spirit was tattered, visibly fraying from the aftershocks of Yi Zhen's memory attack. Beside her, a tall man in gleaming golden robes cracked his knuckles, arrogant, his face smug with righteousness. But it was the third figure—hooded, silent, aura like cracked stone—that made Yi Zhen's breath still.
> "Three against one," Yi Zhen muttered. "The Golden Balance Sect must be desperate."
The robed man laughed. "We're not desperate, filth. Just thorough."
The girl said nothing. Her eyes never left Yi Zhen. There was no hatred—only dread.
The hooded man whispered, and the ground turned cold. His aura warped the laws of the forest. Even the Lotus Moon above withered.
> "Let's begin," Yi Zhen said, raising his hand.
The arrogant cultivator lunged, drawing a blade wreathed in golden script. Yi Zhen shifted. With minimal movement, he evaded, then slammed his palm into the earth. Rotten Qi burst upward in tendrils of black mist.
The cultivator sliced through them—but too late. Yi Zhen had already flanked him, slamming a fist into his gut.
> "You fight with pride. That's a flaw."
The golden cultivator coughed blood and flew backward into a tree, cracking it in half.
The girl attacked next—not with steel, but with mirrors of light. Her Dao was reflection, and she summoned illusions of Yi Zhen's past, trying to confuse him. But this was his domain now.
> "Do you think I haven't drowned in those already?"
He reached out, gripped one of the illusions—and crushed it. His corrupted Qi surged outward, shattering the mirror-world she built.
> "I rot lies," he said coldly.
She fell to her knees, eyes bleeding from the backlash.
Then the hooded man moved.
Silence fell.
Yi Zhen barely dodged the first strike—a finger jab that bent space as it passed. His eyes narrowed.
> "Spatial compression…"
This wasn't a disciple. This was a Watcher, someone sent not to fight—but to erase.
Yi Zhen exhaled. "So, they are afraid."
He formed a seal mid-air: the Dead Root Clasp. His corrupted Qi condensed into skeletal vines, anchoring him to the realm. The next blow from the Watcher hit—but instead of piercing his heart, it was deflected by a shield of cursed memory and soul fragments. The vines exploded, wrapping around the Watcher's limbs.
> "You're strong," Yi Zhen whispered, "but your existence is based on rules. Mine feeds on what breaks them."
He slammed his hands together—Echo of Decay. A pulse spread across the vines, sending rotting Qi into the Watcher's meridians.
The Watcher screamed.
His form blinked, glitched, and then exploded into black ash, scattered by a wind that didn't exist.
Yi Zhen stood over the remains.
The girl crawled away. The golden cultivator lay unconscious.
Yi Zhen didn't chase them. He returned to his circle.
The stem of ruin had fully bloomed.
Above, the sky began to weep black.
---
Author's Note – Terry
Chapter 3 was all about showing that Yi Zhen isn't just powerful—he's tactical. He doesn't brute force through enemies. His path demands intelligence, memory, and raw will. The second realm—the Stem of Ruin—marks his rise into something the cultivation world fears: a force that grows through the rot they buried.