Scarlet Shadows: Rise Of The abyssal demon emperor

The wind howled like a wounded beast as Zhen Yang strode through the blood-soaked battlefield. The once-vibrant forest had been reduced to a graveyard of mangled bodies and splintered trees. His crimson eyes glowed faintly under the pale moonlight, a stark reminder of the unstoppable power he now wielded.

In the distance, a group of survivors huddled together, trembling. They were remnants of a faction foolish enough to believe they could ambush him. Their leader, a heavily armored man with a sword that still dripped with Zhen Yang's blood, lay dead at his feet. His last moments had been spent begging for mercy.

"Spare us," one of the survivors pleaded, his voice cracking. "We didn't know… we didn't realize who you were."

Zhen Yang paused, his gaze sweeping over them. "Ignorance is not an excuse," he said, his voice cold as the abyss. "Nor does it absolve you of your choices."

With a flick of his wrist, the crimson flame engulfed the group. Their screams echoed through the desolation, fading quickly into silence. Zhen Yang watched impassively as the fire consumed them, leaving behind only ash.

Far away, in the grand Zhen family estate, the tension was palpable. News of Zhen Yang's massacre had reached the inner circle, sparking fear and confusion among the elders.

Elder Zhen Xuan stood at the head of the council, his expression grim. "This cannot continue," he declared, slamming his palm against the table. "The boy—no, the monster—must be stopped."

A younger elder spoke up, his voice hesitant. "But Elder, if he truly carries the mark of the abyss, do we have the means to confront him? Sending more men will only…" He trailed off, his meaning clear.

Zhen Xuan's gaze sharpened. "We are the Zhen family, the ruling force of this region. If we cannot handle a rogue child, we deserve to fall."

The room fell silent. No one dared to speak against him, though doubt lingered in their eyes. They all knew the truth—Zhen Yang was no ordinary rogue.

Zhen Yang continued his march through the forest, his mind a tempest of thoughts. His newfound power was exhilarating, but it came at a cost. The abyss was a relentless force, constantly whispering in his mind, pushing him toward greater acts of destruction.

He stopped at the edge of a cliff, overlooking a valley bathed in moonlight. The sight stirred something within him, a faint memory he couldn't quite grasp. He clenched his fists, frustration boiling to the surface. The whispers grew louder, urging him to embrace the chaos, to let go of the past.

"I am more than a pawn of the abyss," he muttered, his voice resolute. "This power is mine to command, not the other way around."

The whispers receded slightly, as if acknowledging his defiance. He took a deep breath, focusing on the path ahead. The Zhen family's betrayal still burned in his mind, fueling his resolve. They had cast him aside, but he would show them the price of their folly.

Back at the estate, Zhen Xuan convened a secret meeting with a shadowy figure. Draped in black robes, the figure's face was obscured, but their aura radiated power.

"You've dealt with the abyss before," Zhen Xuan said, his tone both wary and desperate. "Can it be undone? Can he be… neutralized?"

The figure's voice was deep and unsettling. "The abyss does not release its grip lightly. If the boy has truly forged a pact, your options are limited. Kill him now, before he grows stronger, or prepare for a war that will consume you all."

Zhen Xuan's jaw tightened. "And if we fail?"

The figure chuckled darkly. "Then pray the abyss finds him sufficient. Otherwise, it may turn its gaze upon you."

Zhen Yang descended from the cliff, his steps purposeful. He knew the Zhen family would not sit idly by. They would send their assassins, their warriors, their so-called elites. And he would destroy them all.

But first, he needed allies. Not friends, not comrades, but tools to further his goals. The whispers guided him to a hidden village, a place where outcasts and mercenaries gathered. Here, strength ruled above all else, and loyalty was a commodity to be bought and sold.

The village came into view, its crude wooden structures illuminated by flickering torches. Zhen Yang's presence drew immediate attention. Men and women armed to the teeth sized him up, their eyes filled with suspicion and greed.

A towering man with a scarred face stepped forward, blocking his path. "This ain't a place for kids," he sneered. "Turn around before you get hurt."

Zhen Yang's lips curved into a cold smile. "Hurt?" he repeated, his voice laced with mockery. "You should worry about yourself."

Before the man could react, Zhen Yang moved. A burst of crimson flame erupted from his hand, engulfing the man in an instant. The crowd recoiled, their bravado replaced with fear.

"I am Zhen Yang," he declared, his voice carrying over the stunned silence. "Those who serve me will share in my power. Those who oppose me will share his fate."

The mercenaries hesitated, their instincts torn between survival and ambition. Slowly, one by one, they knelt. Zhen Yang's smirk widened. The abyss demanded chaos, but chaos required order. And he would ensure it.

The first seeds of his army were sown, and the world would soon tremble beneath the weight of his wrath.

High above, the crimson moon watched, its eerie light a silent witness to the rise of the Abyssal Sovereign.