Chapter 266: True Face

'Living furnaces,' I thought bitterly, the words turning over in my mind like poison. That's what they called them. Children, orphans, forgotten souls—used not as individuals but as tools, as resources to fuel the sect's insatiable greed for power. The sect's cultivation method was built on a twisted principle: Yin mana thrived when balanced with Yang, and the higher the quality of the Yang mana, the greater the benefits.For most Awakened, the quality of their mana improves naturally as they grow stronger, as they cultivate their cores and accumulate experience. But the Cloud Heavens Sect didn't have the patience for that. Why wait for slow, arduous growth when you can simply take what you need?

That's why their sect consisted almost entirely of women. Their bodies were naturally aligned with Yin mana, but to achieve the speed and strength they craved, they needed Yang mana to balance it. And rather than earn it through effort or partnerships, they chose the path of least resistance.

The Cloud Heavens Sect wasn't always as corrupt as it is now. There was a time when their cultivation methods were considered groundbreaking, even admirable. But the truth has a way of eroding ideals when ambition and greed take hold.

They couldn't attract strong cultivators willingly. After all, who would give up their vitality and talent freely? And capturing someone powerful enough to meet their standards? That was a costly endeavor, both in resources and manpower. High-ranking Awakened were not easily subdued, and the backlash from attempting to enslave them often outweighed the benefits.

But then, they made a discovery that changed everything. A horrifying revelation that paved the way for their current practices.

What if every person carried within them a rare, universal type of mana? A form of energy so potent, so versatile, that it could mimic the effects of high-ranking mana?

This wasn't theoretical. It was a fact. This special mana existed, hidden deep within every individual's core. It wasn't tied to their cultivated strength or external power—it was innate, a part of their very essence. In some ways, it was comparable to stem cells from my previous world. Just as stem cells could transform into any type of cell within the body, this primordial mana could amplify cultivation techniques, heal damaged cores, or even create breakthroughs when harnessed.

For females, this mana naturally aligned with Yin energy, pure and cold like a perfect stillness. For males, it resonated with Yang energy, burning bright and hot, a force of creation.

But like stem cells, this mana wasn't infinite. It was finite, and delicate, and once used, it couldn't be replaced. It was this mana, this precious essence, that played a critical role in determining someone's talent, their potential. It was what separated the prodigies from the average, the extraordinary from the mundane.

The Cloud Heavens Sect had discovered this secret. And rather than see it as a sacred part of life, they saw it as a resource—a means to fuel their own greed.

'They figured out how to extract it,' I thought, my stomach twisting at the memory of the novel's revelations. They found ways to rip this primordial mana out of individuals, leaving them hollow, stripped of their potential. For a female, it meant their Yin energy was shattered, their cores left unstable and prone to failure.

For a male, the results were even worse. Without their Yang energy, their vitality faded, their bodies wasting away until only a husk remained.

But this wasn't just about any mana. It was about pure mana, the kind found most abundantly in children. Children, whose cores were untouched by cultivation, whose innate potential was at its peak. Their primordial mana was like embryonic stem cells—rare, potent, and invaluable.

That's why the sect targeted orphans, street kids, and the abandoned. They didn't just use these children; they consumed them. They became living furnaces, forced to channel their primordial mana until there was nothing left.

The method they used—it was something I tried not to dwell on, something that churned my stomach the moment the details surfaced in the novel. But it was impossible to ignore, not when the reality of it was so vile, so repugnant. They extracted the primordial mana from these children through their reproductive fluids. The implications alone were horrifying enough, and the method… I clenched my fists tightly, my knuckles whitening as the memory clawed at me.

The Cloud Heavens Sect didn't just exploit the innocent—they violated them, stripping them of everything sacred. And the scene… I could still recall the moment it was described in the novel, even though I wished I couldn't. S~eaʀᴄh the ηovelFire.ηet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

It was brief, just a few paragraphs in the story, but it painted a picture that burned itself into my mind. A young boy, no older than ten, trembling in a dark chamber, his tears mixing with the blood staining the cold stone floor. His hollow eyes stared forward, devoid of life, devoid of hope, as the sect's "practitioners" forced him to endure unspeakable acts to extract the mana they desired.

I stopped myself there, my thoughts skidding to a halt before they could delve deeper into the memory. No, I wouldn't relive that. I couldn't. My grip on my estoc tightened further, the rage in my chest boiling to a point where it threatened to consume me.

'That is why…..Everyone will know….And I will bury your sect to the ground…. '

Whether you have your ambitions or not.

It doesn't matter what your convictions are.

Discover hidden tales at M V L

In this world, children are innocent.

I lifted my gaze, locking onto Lira's widened eyes. For all her bravado, for all the strength she believed she possessed, there was fear in her now. A flicker of something she couldn't control, something she couldn't hide. Good. Let her feel it. Let her feel a fraction of what she's caused.

"How many, Lira?" My voice cut through the air, sharp and cold. The cheers of the crowd faded into the background, drowned out by the intensity of the moment. "How many children did you use to stand where you are now?"

Her eyes flickered, her composure cracking as she took a small step back. I pressed forward, my voice unwavering, my gaze unrelenting.

"Twenty? Forty?" I tilted my head, my tone softening in mock contemplation. "Eighty?" I took another step, my grip on my estoc firm as the weight of my words hung between us. "Do you even know? Do you even care?"

Lira's lips parted as if to respond, but no words came out. Her breath hitched, her confidence faltering under the weight of my accusations. And still, I didn't let up.

"What do you think they felt, Lira?" I asked, my voice lower now, colder. "When they were dragged into your sect's chambers? When they were subjected to that 'treatment' you all so callously call 'necessary?'"

The arena was silent now. The crowd, unaware of the full truth but sensing the shift in atmosphere, watched with bated breath. But I wasn't speaking to them. This wasn't for their benefit. This was for her.

"Do you think they felt gratitude?" I continued, my voice dripping with disdain. "Relief? Do you think they felt honored to have their futures ripped away to fuel your ambitions?"

Her hand trembled on her sword, her eyes darting to the crowd as if searching for something—an anchor, an escape. But there was none. Not here. Not now.

"They felt fear," I said, my voice sharp enough to cut through steel. "They felt pain, despair, and betrayal. They were children, Lira. Children who should have had the chance to live, to grow, to become something more. And you—you and your sect—took that from them."

I took one final step, my eyes boring into hers. "So tell me, Lira Vaelan. How does it feel to stand on a mountain of broken lives and call yourself a prodigy?"

The weight of my words crashed down on her, her expression twisting into something I couldn't quite define. Fear? Shame? Anger? Perhaps all of them. But I didn't care. Whatever she felt, it wasn't enough to atone for what she'd done.

And it never would be.

Lira's voice trembled as she spoke, her composure slipping further with each word. "I… I don't know what you're talking about," she said, forcing a defiant tone that failed to mask the fear flickering in her eyes.

Her denial was almost laughable. Almost.

A slow smile crept across my face—not the playful smirk I usually wore, but something darker, colder, born of pure enjoyment. "Oh, really?" I said, my tone dripping with mockery. "You don't know, do you?"

I raised my estoc, the blade gleaming in the sunlight, and took a step closer, my voice carrying across the arena. "Then let me jog your memory, Silent Thunder. What about the chambers in Mistveil City? Ring any bells?"

The crowd stirred, murmurs rippling through the stands as the name of the city echoed in the air.

"Still nothing?" I continued, feigning disappointment. "Then perhaps the Twilight Accord Act might jog your memory. Or should I spell it out for you? Your precious sect's little cover for siphoning funds and resources to support... extracurricular activities."

The murmurs grew louder, the audience exchanging glances, whispers of confusion and suspicion spreading like wildfire.

"And if that doesn't ring a bell…" I let the words hang in the air for a moment, savoring the rising tension, "…how about your partnership with the Thornshroud Gang? Surely you know them—the ones who supply your sect with the children you use as living furnaces."

Gasps erupted from the crowd, the murmurs turning into outright shock and disbelief.

Lira's face had gone pale, her hand trembling on the hilt of her sword. "Y-you're lying," she stammered, her voice faltering. "You're just trying to slander the sect!"

"Oh, slander?" I replied, chuckling softly. "Is that what this is?" I spread my arms wide, gesturing to the stunned audience. "I'm not the one with chambers hidden in Mistveil. I'm not the one signing off on the Twilight Accord. And I'm certainly not the one making deals with Thornshroud."

The tension in the arena reached a fever pitch, and then, from the stands, a voice rang out—sharp, commanding, filled with anger.

"ENOUGH!"

And it appeared that someone finally was no longer able to contain their feelings.