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Xuan Yang's heart felt as if it were gripped by a frenzied beast, pounding violently and emitting a series of muffled, rapid sounds. The heartbeat echoed like thunder, deafening and overwhelming, reminiscent of war drums being struck with ferocity. He widened his Dual Eyes, fixating intently on the shadow before him that bore an uncanny resemblance to himself. His body trembled involuntarily, and his mind went blank in an instant.
At this moment, countless questions surged through his mind like a tidal wave: Who am I? Am I truly the legendary Puppet Master? But if that were the case, then who is this mysterious shadow before me? Why does it share my face? The more Xuan Yang pondered, the more confused he became, filled with uncertainty and fear.
The shadow stood there as if it had crawled up from an unfathomable abyss, enveloped in an oppressive darkness that made it almost impossible to breathe.
It remained motionless, yet its mere presence was enough to instill an endless sense of pressure. Especially on its face, identical to Xuan Yang's, there lingered an indescribable and eerie smile—half-smiling, half-crying—seemingly mocking Xuan Yang's ignorance and fragility without mercy.
At that moment, the shadow's deep and sinister voice echoed once more, as if it came from the deepest depths of hell. It carried a chilling tone, whispering like a ghostly presence in Xuan Yang's mind, resonating endlessly.
Each word felt like a razor-sharp dagger piercing mercilessly into the depths of his soul, causing him immense pain and pushing him to the brink of collapse.
Xuan Yang felt dizzy, as if his very soul were being torn apart. He wanted to argue, to deny it all, but found himself unable to speak. Because he sensed that what the shadow said was true.
The Shadow Puppet within him was indeed connected to this shadow. This connection filled him with fear yet also excitement. He feared the unknown nature of this shadow and what it might bring him. But he also felt that this shadow might be the ultimate source of his power—the key to unlocking a stronger realm.
"What do you want?" Xuan Yang's face turned pale as paper; cold sweat dripped down his forehead. Despite his best efforts to steady himself, his body trembled uncontrollably. He stared intently at the enigmatic shadow, his voice hoarse as if an invisible hand had tightened around his throat, forcing out those few words with great difficulty.
The shadow merely smiled faintly; its laughter was chilling and terrifying, reminiscent of a night owl's mournful cry in the dead of night—sending shivers down one's spine. "I want... to control you." As these words slowly escaped its lips, the shadow's eyes narrowed gradually, revealing a glint of greed and fervor—like a famished wolf that had finally spotted a succulent lamb it longed to devour whole.
Xuan Yang's heart jolted violently; a chill rushed up his spine. He understood clearly that today would not end peacefully—a life-and-death battle was inevitable.
With this thought in mind, he instinctively tightened his grip on the pitch-black sword in his hand. The icy touch from the hilt pierced through him like winter's chill, calming his previously restless heart just slightly.
At the same time, he could feel the energy within him surging like a tidal wave—like a long-suppressed volcano preparing for an explosive eruption. Once the moment was right, this violent energy would burst forth with unstoppable force to obliterate the enemy before him.
"Then come!" Xuan Yang roared with fury in his eyes.
In an instant, a dense black energy erupted from him like a towering inferno, enveloping him completely in flames of darkness. At that moment, Xuan Yang resembled a phoenix reborn from ashes, radiating an aura of terrifying destruction that made it impossible for anyone to gaze directly at him.
Lord of Shadows stood quietly to the side, arms crossed, a slight smile curling at the corners of his mouth, revealing a cold grin. The glint in his elongated eyes sparkled with mockery, as if he were enjoying a spectacular performance, fully aware of the situation unfolding before him and filled with anticipation. He understood that this fierce battle not only concerned the life and death of Xuan Yang but would also directly impact the trajectory of his own future.
Xuan Yang wielded his sword, agilely engaging in a life-and-death struggle with the shadow. In an instant, the flashes of swordplay intertwined, cold light radiating everywhere, accompanied by booming sounds as energies clashed violently, reminiscent of thunder and lightning. The entire dilapidated temple was shrouded in this breathtaking scene of combat. In a moment, the air within the temple was filled with sword energy that howled past, leaving countless deep and shallow sword marks on the walls. These marks crisscrossed like a vast and intricate spider web, covering the entire wall.
Xuan Yang's offensive was exceptionally fierce, sweeping towards the shadow like a torrential storm. Each swing of his sword contained earth-shattering power, its momentum overwhelming and unstoppable, as if it aimed to shred the shadow before him into dust. At this moment, he had gathered all his internal energy into the sword, making every move infused with unparalleled strength and astonishing speed—quick as lightning and swift as a whirlwind—leaving onlookers breathless.
However, in response to Xuan Yang's ferocious attacks, the shadow displayed an unyielding defensive capability. No matter how exquisite or varied Xuan Yang's sword techniques were or how relentless his assaults became, the shadow effortlessly dodged those lethal strikes and swiftly counterattacked. Its movements were light and agile, ghostly in nature—elusive and unpredictable—often closing in for surprise attacks before Xuan Yang could react, forcing him into a passive defensive position.
The battle raged on for quite some time, both sides exhausting vast amounts of energy, sweat soaking their clothes. Xuan Yang's breathing grew rapid; fatigue began to set in as his attack speed slowed and his strength waned.
The shadow's offensive intensified like surging tides crashing relentlessly against Xuan Yang without any sign of pause. Meanwhile, Xuan Yang's defense became increasingly strained, akin to a lone boat teetering on the brink of capsizing amidst a stormy sea—on the verge of being overwhelmed by merciless waves.
At this moment, Xuan Yang felt his body growing heavier, as if he were carrying an enormous mountain on his back; every small step became an arduous struggle requiring immense effort and energy. Just when he felt he was on the brink of collapse, he suddenly sensed that once-familiar shadowy aura within him surge forth again—this time stronger and more ferocious than before, like a flood breaking through a dam, threatening to engulf him entirely.
Faced with this sudden and unstoppable surge of energy, Xuan Yang was gripped by deep fear; yet simultaneously, an indescribable excitement welled up within him. In an instant of clarity, a thought flashed through his mind: Could it be... With that realization, Xuan Yang abruptly lifted his head, his Dual Eyes fixated on the depths of the dilapidated temple. His gaze was sharp as a torch, seemingly capable of piercing through the endless darkness before him.
Indeed, in that pitch-black corner, a vague figure slowly began to materialize. The aura emanating from this figure bore an uncanny resemblance to that eerie shadow—ghostly and elusive in its movements. "It’s you!" Upon recognizing the face and form of that figure, Xuan Yang couldn't help but exclaim in shock. It turned out to be none other than Lu Zhiyuan—the esteemed Old Village Chief!
Xuan Yang's eyes widened in disbelief; his heart felt as though it were gripped by an invisible hand that made it hard for him to breathe. The figure before him radiating an aura similar to that of the shadow was none other than the Old Village Chief who had once shown him such care and kindness! This was utterly inconceivable; he could not fathom how this could be.
The Old Village Chief—the kind old man who always wore a smile and offered warmth and encouragement; who had stood up during times of crisis even at the cost of his own life to protect him—how could he appear here in such a form? And what connection did he have with that terrifying Lord of Shadows?
Xuan Yang stared blankly at the Old Village Chief as he slowly raised his head. The familiar face now appeared so foreign. The warm and kind gaze from days gone by had vanished without a trace; instead replaced by coldness and malice. A sinister smile curled at his lips—a smile so devilish it seemed to belong to a demon from hell itself.
Simultaneously, the aura emanating from the Old Village Chief had completely transformed. No longer warm and gentle as before, it now exuded coldness and evil—like a venomous snake lurking in darkness ready to strike with deadly precision. Just being near him sent chills racing up Xuan Yang's spine.
"It’s been a long time since we last met, Xuan Yang," spoke the Old Village Chief in a voice raspy like two rusty metals scraping against each other—a sound that sent shivers down Xuan Yang’s spine.
Xuan Yang trembled involuntarily; endless fear and confusion consumed him. He struggled to swallow hard before asking with a quivering voice: "Village... Village Chief? Who are you really? Why... why have you changed like this?"
"I am the leader of the Lord of Shadows," said the mysterious figure standing in the shadows, or more precisely, the master of darkness, in a deep and slow tone. "At the same time, I am also your Village Chief."
Upon hearing these words, Xuan Yang felt his mind go blank, as if struck by a thunderous bolt. The Village Chief? The leader of the Lord of Shadows? It was simply unbelievable! His Village Chief had always been that kind and gentle old man—the brave elder who had once risked his life to protect him. How could he possibly transform into the leader of the Lord of Shadows?
"Impossible!" Xuan Yang shouted furiously, his voice echoing throughout the space. "Our Village Chief has long since passed away!"
However, in response to Xuan Yang's anger and doubt, the leader of the Lord of Shadows merely smiled coldly, a chilling laughter that sent shivers down his spine. "Heh, child, you are mistaken. Have you never considered this possibility—I have not truly died; I have merely concealed myself cleverly."
At these words, Xuan Yang felt as if the world was spinning around him, a strong wave of dizziness washing over him, as if his very soul were being torn apart. His mind was flooded with countless thoughts, desperately wanting to refute and deny what was said, but for some reason, he found himself unable to utter a single word.
Deep down inside him, a thread of fear began to spread gradually, forcing him to question this astonishing reality before him—perhaps everything the leader of the Lord of Shadows claimed was indeed possible. After all, that enigmatic Shadow Puppet within him was one of the strongest pieces of evidence.
"Why are you doing this?" Xuan Yang asked through gritted teeth, his voice hoarse as if it came from the depths of his heart.
"For... power," the leader of the Lord of Shadows replied slowly, his eyes filled with greed and desire. "For... control over everything."
Xuan Yang's heart sank. He knew there was no turning back between him and the leader of the Lord of Shadows.
"Then come!" Xuan Yang roared, black energy surging forth like flames, enveloping him entirely like a phoenix reborn from fire.
He swung his black longsword and charged at the shadowy leader like a bolt of black lightning, unstoppable.
The shadowy leader also wielded his black longsword and met him head-on.
The two dark figures clashed violently within the ruined temple, their swords intertwining as energy collided like sparks igniting an explosion.
Outside the temple, dark clouds churned ominously, thunder roared, and fierce winds howled as if doomsday had arrived.
This battle would determine everything.
Suddenly, Xuan Yang felt a powerful force surging from within him, enveloping his entire being.
This force was both familiar and strange.
He sensed his body undergoing a transformation, becoming stronger and more terrifying.
His eyes turned blood red, like flames burning fiercely.
His hair became black, reminiscent of the countless stars in the night sky.
His skin darkened to a deep black, akin to an endless abyss.
He… had become another version of himself.
A version that was more powerful and more terrifying.
“Who… am I?” Xuan Yang's voice became hoarse, resembling the roar of a beast.
“You are… the Puppet Master.” The voice of the Lord of Shadows echoed in Xuan Yang's mind, filled with excitement and anticipation.
What would happen next?
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