I am the Villain

The Demonic Investigation

The forests of the northern ridge were unnaturally quiet. Birds no longer sang here. The wind barely stirred the leaves. The deeper the path wound into the trees, the more the air felt... off. Heavy. Thick. Reeking faintly of sulfur. Even the light that filtered through the canopy above seemed pale, as if the sun itself wanted nothing to do with this part of the world. Luo Zelin walked near the back of the trio, arms folded behind his head, his white robes fluttering slightly with each step.

In front of him, Shen Guang led with purposeful calm, his sword sheathed but fingers lightly resting on the hilt. And farther ahead, always a few paces out of reach, was Shen Liang. Liang didn't say a word. He hadn't said anything since they'd left the temple.

His posture was stiff. His pace brisk. His aura cold as a frozen blade.

Zelin didn't need to guess, he could feel it. The tension. The bubbling irritation Shen Liang was desperately trying to suppress. Ever since the mission had been assigned, Shen Liang had been tight-lipped and colder than usual. And with the cursed bond between them, Zelin didn't need to look at him to know. He was furious. Which, of course, made Zelin grin.

He stretched his arms over his head and let out an exaggerated yawn. "Wow. It's so peaceful out here. You guys sure we're demon hunting and not just going on a nature walk?" Shen Liang didn't respond. Zelin scratched his chin, smirking to himself. "I mean, if I'm gonna be dragged through creepy woods, you could at least entertain me with some light banter, Liang." Still nothing.

Shen Guang glanced back with a small smile. "Try not to provoke him. You know how he gets."

"Oh, I know. Trust me," Zelin muttered, letting his arms fall to his sides. "He's had a stick up his ass since we left the gates." Still, deep down, a part of him was uneasy.

Not because of Liang. But because of what Shen Guang had told them earlier that morning. "Villagers reported tremors. Groaning underground. The smell of blood in the wells." Zelin knew demons. Intimately. He'd once commanded them, bent them to his will, used them like hounds in war.

But even before Feng Wuxin had ever touched dark power, demons had always existed. Cruel. Hungry. Unforgiving. They were part of the world's balance, an ancient, festering truth beneath the earth. What disturbed him now was the reeking tremor in the air. This wasn't him. He hadn't summoned anything in weeks. Hadn't performed any rituals. He was laying low. Training. Pretending.

And yet... They were coming. Suddenly, Shen Liang raised a hand and stopped. The three froze in a narrow gorge where twisted roots tangled across the forest floor like veins. The air was hot now, unnaturally so. Something sour curled at the back of their throats.

Zelin's eyes narrowed. There, a crack in the earth, not wide but deep. From it, a low growl echoed, something guttural and ancient. Steam rose in wisps from the crevice, curling into the leaves above. Shen Guang drew his sword. Shen Liang unsheathed his as well, the flute-like weapon glinting under filtered sunlight.

Zelin hesitated. He hadn't drawn his blade yet. He stood staring into the crack, watching how the steam shimmered, like it was breathing. His fingers twitched near the hilt of his sword. He could feel the demons under there. Not his. Not loyal. Wild ones. Old ones.

He wasn't their master. And that was what worried him. Shen Liang's voice cut through the thick air. "We split. Guang and I will handle the perimeter. Zelin, scout the deeper path."

Zelin blinked. "Alone?"

Shen Liang didn't even turn. "You're strong enough, aren't you? After all, I've felt how not tired you are lately."

A faint edge in his voice. Sharp as the sword in his hand. Zelin clicked his tongue. "Tch. Fine. If I die, I'm haunting you." He turned and headed down the narrower trail that forked left, winding between mossy stones and leaning trees. As he walked, he muttered to himself, "Stupid cursed bond. Stupid perfect cultivator. Stupid haunted forest..." But his joking tone faded the farther he walked.

Because the deeper he went...

The more wrong everything felt. The ground had started to pulse faintly under his feet, like the earth itself had a heartbeat. The air buzzed. Shadows seemed to stretch longer than they should. Somewhere up ahead, a low moan sounded. Not pain. Not hunger. But calling.

Zelin stopped.

His hand hovered near his blade. His eyes flicked around the woods. No birds. No insects. No wind. Just the steady thrum of something ancient waking up beneath the soil. His lips curled into a thin line. "...Okay. Maybe this time it's not my fault." He took a deep breath, letting his fingers finally curl around the hilt of his sword. Then stepped forward, into the dark.