Cultivator of the End: I Refine My Own Death-Chapter 120 – A Path Stained in Blood and Smoke

Rin stood at the edge of the scorched temple, his eyes watching the billowing plumes of smoke rise from the ruinous remains of the Cult of the Living Husk. The wind whispered through the charred air, carrying with it the faint scent of death and burnt flesh. The remnants of the temple cracked and crumbled behind him, the flames of destruction slowly licking the sky, their orange glow stark against the deepening twilight. But Rin felt nothing—nothing but the cold, indifferent chill that had long since settled deep within him.

His hand clenched around the hilt of Mourning Fang, the blade now a part of him, an extension of his will. Its jagged edge gleamed with an eerie, unnatural light, the same cold fire that burned within his core. He had slain them all—every last one of the zealots—and for what? To extract their knowledge, their power, their lives. And yet, even as their bodies burned to ash, there was no satisfaction in it. No triumph. No relief. Only emptiness.

"I have become the very thing I sought to destroy."

The words fell from his lips like a curse, but they brought no sense of clarity. He had long abandoned any notion of right or wrong, morality or purpose. His path was defined not by the heavens or by the gods, but by death. A death that was his to command, to refine, to shape. It was the only thing he understood now.

Rin's thoughts drifted to the many corpses he had left in his wake. The broken bodies of cultivators, sect leaders, and fanatics. Each of them had been a stepping stone in his ascent. Each of them had been a lesson—albeit a lesson paid for with their lives. The weight of their deaths did not burden him. It never had. He had killed without hesitation, without remorse, and with the same indifference he had felt when he slayed the first. "They are all just stepping stones."

The wind picked up again, and Rin's gaze shifted to the horizon. The desolate landscape stretched endlessly before him, the skeletal remains of ancient trees twisted and gnarled like the corpses of long-forgotten titans. There was nothing here to keep him, no reason to linger. And yet, something inside him stirred—a pull, deep and insistent. The path ahead was clear, but it was stained in blood and smoke. There was no going back, no redemption waiting on the other side.

His breath came in shallow gasps as he turned away from the ruins, his gaze distant. His steps were slow but purposeful, each one carrying him further from the temple and deeper into the wilderness. He had no destination, no goal beyond the pursuit of his own power.

But then, in the stillness of the moment, something shifted. A strange sensation crept into the edges of his consciousness—an ancient feeling, forgotten but not entirely alien. It was as if the ground beneath his feet had trembled, if only for a moment. Rin stopped in his tracks, a frown knitting his brows. "What is this?"

His surroundings began to blur, the air thickening around him. The world twisted, its edges darkening and becoming unstable. The trees around him seemed to bend and warp as though they, too, were caught in the grip of some unseen force. Then, it came to him—the sensation was not physical but mental. A memory.

A Memory of His First Life.

Rin found himself standing in a lush, green field. The wind was warm and carried the scent of flowers in full bloom. He was no longer the person he had become, but a child—small, innocent, unaware of the horrors that would come. The world around him was vivid, alive with color and the sounds of birds calling in the distance. It was a sharp contrast to the world he knew now.

He was running through the field, laughing. His legs were small, his feet bare, and the earth felt cool beneath him as he sprinted through the tall grass. There was a feeling of joy—a fleeting, fragile feeling. He was free. There were no shackles of death binding him. No thoughts of transcendence or decay. Just pure, innocent life.

His mother's voice called out to him, distant and kind. She stood by the edge of a small wooden house, smiling as she held out her arms to him. "Rin, come back. You'll hurt yourself."

Rin turned toward her, his face bright with a smile as he ran toward her, his heart light with innocence. The sun was warm on his skin, and everything seemed perfect. For a brief moment, there was no death in his world—just the simplicity of a child's love and trust.

But as he neared his mother, something changed.

A shadow fell across the ground, and the world seemed to shift, darken. The house, once small and quaint, now looked ancient, weathered, as though it had been standing for centuries. His mother's smile faltered, her form fading, dissolving into mist before his eyes. The warmth of the sun evaporated, and a chill crept into the air. Rin stopped in his tracks, his heart thudding in his chest as a terrible emptiness began to seep into his soul.

He reached out, but his mother was gone. Her voice, once so comforting, was now nothing but a hollow echo. "Rin..." The whisper was faint, carried on the wind, but there was no joy in it. Only an ominous warning.

Then, as if responding to that silent cry, the earth beneath Rin's feet cracked open, a dark chasm yawning before him. He could feel the void beneath, the darkness calling to him, pulling him in. His legs trembled, but he couldn't move. His heart, once so light, now felt like lead in his chest.

He tried to scream, but no sound came from his mouth. The wind, once warm and soft, now howled like a storm. The grass around him withered, turning black and curling into ash. "No!"

But it was too late. The darkness consumed everything—the field, the sky, his mother, his innocence. And in the abyss, he was left alone, a child lost to the world.

Rin jolted awake, his breath sharp, his body cold with sweat. The vision faded as quickly as it had come, leaving him standing alone once again on the desolate road. The dream-memory lingered in his mind like a lingering echo, a faint whisper of the child he had once been.

The death of his last trace of innocence.

His body shook as he took a deep breath, forcing the haunting images from his mind. He had felt it—the moment of his fall, the moment he ceased to be the child he had once been. There had been no transition, no gradual shift. The innocence had simply been... erased. Not by his hand, but by something far more insidious. The chains of the world had tightened, and the path before him had been irrevocably altered.

Rin placed his hand on his chest, feeling the pulse of his Death Core, and for the first time, he recognized a change—a shift deep within himself. His soul was no longer as it had been. His flesh no longer as it had been.

The Death Refinement Dao – First Tier Completed.

The words echoed in his mind, reverberating with a hollow finality. The Shattered Vein of Flesh.

The core within him trembled, resonating with the energy of death that had coiled around it, grown inside it. The very flesh of his body had been altered, corrupted by the path he had walked. He was no longer human, not in any true sense. His flesh had become a weapon, his soul a dull, worn tool—pushed beyond its breaking point and remade in the image of death. The path he had chosen had consumed him, body and soul.

He closed his eyes, feeling the remnants of the memory drift away. The pain of that innocence was gone, burned away like so many things before it. In its place was something darker, something far more potent. There would be no going back.

His path was irreversible.

As Rin opened his eyes, the weight of his choices settled into his bones. The world around him seemed more distant now, the fire of life long extinguished within him. He had crossed a threshold from which there was no return, a point where death had become more than a tool—it was his purpose, his essence. The Shattered Vein of Flesh was not merely a technique; it was a state of being, a confirmation that he had passed through the crucible of death, and in doing so, had become something else entirely.

A weapon.

A harbinger of what came after.

And yet, even as the finality of it all settled in, Rin felt no fear. Only the cold certainty that his journey had only just begun.

To be continued...