Chapter 3
I had to understand this world’s rules as soon as possible.
How did people here become powerful? I had to find out, and fast.
Demonic Disciple C: “Become powerful? Cultivate, obviously.”
Me: “How?”
Demonic Disciple C: “Cultivation techniques, absorbing demonic energy… Don’t you know how?”
I nodded and made a mental note.
Then I found someone else.
Demonic Disciple D: “You want a cultivation technique? Go find one yourself. Why are you looking at me?”
Me: “Where do I find one?”
Demonic Disciple D: “Either buy one or wait for your master to grant you one. Actually, who’s your master? Didn’t he give you a basic cultivation technique?”
Me: “…”
I rushed off like lightning to find the man in black.
Me: “I don’t have a master. Assign me one. Or you could be my master.”
The black-robed man looked at me in astonishment.
“You’re an outer disciple. Your aptitude is too poor. Cultivate for a while first, then we’ll see.”
With that, he turned and left. Even after he’d gone some distance, my sharp ears caught him muttering to the person beside him.
“Probably not from the righteous sects. They wouldn’t send someone this stupid undercover.”
“Can’t be sure. Keep watching.”
I felt that everyone in this world was guilty. Arrogance was their original sin.
I was Tom Riddle, the famous Voldemort, king of the wizarding world!
I’d even broken the record for Horcrux-making. Seven in one go. Seven!
How dared they call me stupid?
A mere cultivation technique? I’d get one without breaking a sweat!
Demonic Disciple E: “What? You want my cultivation technique?”
Me: “Is that not allowed?”
Demonic Disciple E: “A lowly outer disciple like you? What right do you have to cultivate?”
Me: What?
Hold on.
I, the renowned Dark Lord.
Had this brat just bullied me?
If only I’d had a wand. I would have shown him exactly what I could do!
Demonic Disciple E: “What’s that look for? An outer disciple dares glare at me? Someone beat him up! Beat him until his own mother wouldn’t recognize him!”
I lay on the ground, barely breathing.
Why wouldn’t they give me a cultivation technique…?
Back then, I could simply ask how to make a Horcrux.
Nobody had done anything to me…
The people here were so vicious…
Suddenly, a foot kicked me.
Demonic Disciple F: “Fuck, what’s this? Oh, a person. Never mind, then.”
As he moved to leave, I grabbed his trouser leg. “Save me.”
Demonic Disciple F: “What the hell? Get lost.”
The foot kicked me aside.
Lying on the ground, I felt an urge to cry for the first time in years.
In my previous life, even at the orphanage, I’d never suffered bullying like this.
The orphanage had hot meals, children and carers I could torment as I pleased, and a psychiatrist to treat me.
Nobody had ever beaten me like this.
Apparently wands weren’t the only things that could hurt people.
Fists could, too.