The sun had barely crested the eastern ridge when the ground began to tremble.
Dust rose along the horizon, and the trees of the southern trail bent under a coming weight.
Iron chains clanged. Beasts snarled. And young voices cried softly in the wind.
The March of Despair
Ten children and teens—no older than thirteen—stumbled behind a massive iron cage, their wrists bound in cursed rope. The metal bars were blackened with blood. Inside the cage, six others lay unconscious or worse—young humans taken from farming settlements for unknown purposes.
Dragging the entire structure forward were two Horn-Spined Ravager Beasts, both at the high level of the Body Forging Realm, their eyes dull and lifeless—enslaved by spirit branding.
Around the caravan marched four demonic footsoldiers, each cloaked in tattered red. Their bodies were crude and muscular, with jagged bone protrusions and spiked limbs. All four radiated the Body Forging Realm, but the one at the front… he was different.
He was calm.
Eyes cold.
His power suppressed, but Master Shan would later say it was unmistakable: Qi Awakening Realm — the second tier of the Low Stage cultivation path.
They were heading west. Toward the cliff regions, where weaker demon outposts and trade hubs operated in secrecy.
But this time... someone was watching.
Shen's Decision
Master Shen observed from the treetops, his form hidden by a qi-concealing technique passed down through generations. Beside him, Derick and Lina crouched, breath held.
"Slavers," Shen muttered, fury in his eyes. "Hunting innocents… and transporting them like cattle."
Derick's jaw clenched. His fists curled.
"Can we stop them?"
Shen didn't answer at first.
His eyes never left the caravan. Then, finally:
"We can't stop all of them. But this one? Yes. And we must."
He passed Derick a sealed talisman — glowing faintly with compressed beast qi.
"Use this only if you're dying. Understood?"
Derick nodded.
The First Strike
Shen moved first — a blur of shadow and wind.
He descended with a crashing blow, his staff igniting in golden light as he smashed the chain-links dragging the iron cage. The sudden jolt sent the Ravager Beasts roaring in pain and confusion.
The demons shouted — too late.
Derick followed with a sweeping kick, knocking one off balance. Lina stood protectively by the cage, cutting ropes from the children with a dagger.
The fight began in chaos.
Clash of the Realms
Derick engaged a horned demon at peak Body Forging Realm.
The demon snarled, swinging a cleaver with terrifying force.
Derick dodged left, activated Shadow Step, and came behind him. A quick Stone Palm to the ribs — followed by a brutal upward elbow — knocked the demon off balance.
But the creature recovered, slamming Derick with his spiked shoulder.
Blood flew. Derick gritted his teeth.
He surged forward again — feint, spin, palm to the chest.
The demon dropped.
Meanwhile, Shen dueled the leader — the Qi Awakening Realm demon — and though Shen was weaker by cultivation, his decades of technique and battlefield instincts gave him edge.
He baited. Deflected. Cut low.
The demon hissed in fury, shocked at Shen's ability to keep up.
"You… a human…! You've trained like this in hiding?!"
"You forget," Shen growled, eyes alight. "Before you ruled us, we were kings of our own fate."
And with a crushing leap, Shen snapped the demon's leg with his staff.
The demon screamed.
Shen didn't kill him — not yet.
He needed the others to see that fear had a name.
Birth of a Name
By the end of the battle, three demons were dead, one captured, and the Ravager Beasts had fled into the forest—free of their spiritual branding.
The children were safe, huddled together in disbelief.
Derick stood beside them, bruised, exhausted… but proud.
Lina knelt, calming a girl no older than seven.
"Why did you help us?" one of the teens asked Master Shen.
Shen looked at them — at the broken cage, at the scars on their wrists — and then at Derick.
"Because slavery isn't a future," Shen said. "Freedom is."
A silence followed.
Then Shen turned to the captives and said, "We are small. We are hunted. But today we stood and didn't run."
He paused.
"I will not be your master. I am too old. But if any of you would rather die on your feet than live in chains… then stay."
One by one… none of them left.
The Revolution Army
That night, under the stars and beside a new fire, the first vow was made.
They wouldn't bow.
They wouldn't flee.
They would fight — not as heroes, but as humans who refused to kneel.
And thus, in the whispering dark woods of the southern ridge, the first spark of rebellion became a flame:
THE REVOLUTION ARMY was born.