The Author's Draft-Chapter 67 : Slaughter Intent II

’I erased you,’ Aiden thought, the realization crushing him. ’I literally deleted your entire existence because the story wasn’t getting enough views.’

Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the aura vanished.

Yan Shou’s eyes closed. The red light faded. The oppressive pressure lifted like fog burning away under sunlight.

Long Chen gasped, air flooding back into his lungs. He collapsed forward onto his hands and knees, shaking violently. Sweat poured down his face. His heart hammered against his ribs so hard it hurt.

But the physical pain was nothing compared to the guilt.

’These are real people,’ Aiden thought, staring at his trembling hands. ’The Slaughter Line. Yan Shou. All the disciples who were killed, all the masters who were betrayed—they’re not just backstory. They’re not disposable lore. They’re real, and I’m the one who condemned them.’

That, Azazel said quietly, was someone who has touched the Dao of Slaughter. Someone who has killed so many that death itself acknowledges them.

Long Chen raised his head slowly, still trembling, and looked at Yan Shou.

The guardian stood calmly now, eyes closed, breathing steady. He looked perfectly normal again—just a man in simple robes.

But Aiden knew better. This wasn’t just a powerful cultivator. This was a survivor of a genocide that Aiden himself had written into existence.

Yan Shou opened his eyes. They were dark again, the red completely gone.

"Forgive me," he said, his voice back to its usual measured tone. "I lost control momentarily. Speaking of the Slaughter Line’s downfall still... affects me."

Long Chen wanted to speak, to apologize, to explain—but how could he? How do you tell someone that you’re the author of their suffering? That their entire tragedy was something you created on a whim and then abandoned?

Yan Shou took a breath and continued as if nothing had happened.

"The fortieth floor is not the end of the Tower. There are many more floors above this one. But this floor is where the test for succession begins. Everything before this—floors one through thirty-nine—was merely preliminary screening. Determining if challengers had basic qualifications."

He gestured toward where the wolf had died.

"The Moon Devouring Heavenly Wolf was the challenge of the fortieth floor. A test of combat ability, adaptability, and determination. Many have reached this floor over the centuries. Promising candidates with powerful cultivation and rare talents."

His expression grew somber.

"None of them could defeat the wolf. They all died or were forced to surrender and leave the Tower. Until you."

’Because I wrote the wolf too,’ Aiden thought numbly. ’I created it as an obstacle and gave myself the tools to beat it. This isn’t skill. This is narrative privilege.’

"And you?" Long Chen managed to ask, his voice hoarse. "You’re the test?"

"Yes."

Long Chen’s stomach sank. He thought about that red aura, that killing intent that had nearly stopped his heart. The sheer overwhelming power radiating from this guardian.

Yan Shou smiled, and there was genuine amusement in the expression.

"You’re thinking about how you could possibly defeat me in combat, aren’t you?"

Long Chen nodded slowly.

"Don’t worry," Yan Shou said. "If the test was fighting me, you might as well plan to stay here forever. You would never win. Not in a thousand years of trying."

"Then what is the test?"

Yan Shou’s smile faded, replaced by seriousness.

"The test is comprehension. Specifically—"

His eyes flashed red for just a moment before returning to normal.

"—you must comprehend Slaughter Intent."

Long Chen blinked. "Slaughter Intent?"

"Yes. Not Sword Intent, which you’ve already grasped to the third stage. Not Killing Intent, which is merely the desire to end life. Slaughter Intent is different. Deeper. More fundamental."

Yan Shou began pacing slowly around the chamber.

"Slaughter Intent is the understanding that death is not an end but a transformation. That violence is not inherently evil but a force of nature. That the act of taking life can be elevated beyond mere murder into something approaching art."

Aiden’s mind raced. This was sounding familiar too. Not from his deleted manuscript, but from research he’d done. Philosophy of violence. The concept of death as transformation. He’d skimmed articles about it while writing a different novel, one where the MC was supposed to be a "dark but honorable" swordsman.

He’d abandoned that story too. Couldn’t make the philosophy work with the action scenes.

And now he was being asked to actually understand it. Not just write about it. Actually comprehend it.

"To comprehend Slaughter Intent," Yan Shou continued, "you must understand death intimately. Not fear it. Not revel in it. Simply understand it. Accept it. Master it. You must be able to kill without hesitation, without regret, without emotion clouding your judgment—while simultaneously understanding the weight of every life you take."

He stopped pacing and looked directly at Long Chen.

"This is the foundation of the Slaughter Line of the Weapon Path. Because weapons exist to kill. That is their purpose, their nature, their truth. A cultivator who follows this line must acknowledge this truth without flinching."

The Slaughter Line.

The cultivation path Aiden had destroyed through narrative convenience. The legacy he’d erased because it didn’t fit his story’s pacing.

And now, for some reason, he was being offered the chance to become its successor.

’This isn’t a test,’ Aiden realized, the weight of it settling on his shoulders. ’This is redemption. Or judgment. Or both.’

Yan Shou’s expression became neutral, unreadable.

"You have thirty days to comprehend Slaughter Intent. Not master it completely—that would take years or decades. But comprehend its fundamental nature. Grasp its essence. Touch it, even briefly."

He raised his blade again.

"If you succeed, you pass. You’ll be allowed to continue climbing the Tower and pursuing the succession of the Slaughter Line. If you fail..."

The unspoken implication hung heavy in the air.

"What happens if I fail?" Long Chen asked.

"You’ll be ejected from the Tower and barred from re-entering the fortieth floor for one year. You can return then and try again. But the test will be the same. Comprehend Slaughter Intent, or remain forever unable to climb higher."

Thirty days to understand something he’d only written about superficially. Thirty days to grasp a philosophy he’d treated as background flavor text.

Thirty days to prove he deserved to inherit the legacy he’d destroyed.

"How do I even begin?" Long Chen asked quietly.

Yan Shou smiled again, that same slight expression.

"That’s for you to discover. Everyone’s path to understanding is different."

He sheathed his black blade, and it vanished back into spiritual energy.

"I cannot teach you directly—that would invalidate the test. But I can provide an environment conducive to comprehension."

Yan Shou walked back to his original position in the chamber.

"The thirty days begin now. Time flows differently on this floor—thirty days here equals three days in the outside world. You won’t starve or die of thirst. The Tower sustains challengers during tests."

He sat down cross-legged on the floor, closed his eyes, and his presence faded to almost nothing.

"I’ll be here when you’re ready. Or when your time expires."

Long Chen stood in the center of the chamber, alone with his thoughts.

Alone with his guilt.

He’d written the Slaughter Line’s destruction. Created their suffering for dramatic effect. Deleted their entire existence when it didn’t serve his story.

And now, somehow, he was being given the chance to become their successor.

To inherit what he’d destroyed.

To understand what he’d only pretended to comprehend when he was writing.

’Well,’ Long Chen thought, looking down at Demon Dweller. ’I guess this is what I deserve. The consequences of my own writing, come back to haunt me.’

Don’t jinx it, Azazel muttered.

But for once, Aiden didn’t feel like the comment was meant to be funny.