Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System!

Chapter 118 Old Debt Of Fate

17 years ago.

The hospital room wasn't just luxurious—it was the kind of luxury that only the impossibly rich could afford. Moonlight spilled through tall windows dressed with delicate silken drapes, bathing the marble floors and gold-trimmed furniture in a pale, ethereal glow. The walls weren't just painted; they were hand-carved with floral patterns that seemed almost alive in the dim lighting.

The scent of fresh lilies mixed faintly with the sterile undertone of a medical suite, reminding that even in all this splendor, life and death still brushed shoulders.

A woman lay sleeping on the grand, oversized hospital bed. Her features were delicate, pale from exhaustion, yet framed by silky strands of midnight-black hair that curled against her pillow. Despite the tiredness carved into her face, there was a smile—faint but real—a mother's smile.

The kind of expression that carried both pain and overwhelming love all at once.

Beside her, a bassinet rested, carved from white oak with tiny, enchanted symbols etched so subtly along its frame they were almost invisible.

A newborn lay nestled inside, wrapped in soft baby-blue fabric, the kind so gentle it felt weightless against the baby's skin. The infant wasn't sleeping like most babies. It's eyes—wide, clear, and impossibly alert for a child so young—stared up at the ceiling, as though aware of something no child should be.

The air suddenly shifted.

No ripple, no sound.

Just a wrongness that wasn't there before.

From nothingness, a portal twisted into existence at the center of the room, rippling like ink poured into water. And out of that void… it emerged.

A figure so monstrous, so beyond ancient, it felt like reality itself had bent to accommodate its presence.

A werewolf, but no ordinary one. No fur—just a void where fur should be, a creature sculpted from living darkness, the shape of a massive lupine beast with clawed hands and a hunched, predatory form.

And its eyes—Lunar eyes, silvery and glowing like twin moons, but burning with raw primal fear. Hulking, with a hunched back, its massive claws clicked against the marble floor, leaving no mark yet feeling as though they should.

It didn't snarl.

It didn't rage.

It simply stared.

Silver lunar eyes burned with something beyond ancient—primal fear. Yet the source of the fear wasn't the woman, something else had drawn it here. Yes she was powerful every more than it but it wasn't scared of her.

Its gaze locked on the infant.

The baby didn't move.

Didn't flinch. Didn't even blink.

And that terrified it more.

The baby's tiny chest rose and fell in calm, steady breaths, as though the presence of this nightmare didn't even register.That—only made the fear in the creature's eyes deepen.

It took a step closer, taloned feet making no sound on the flawless marble. Slowly, hesitantly, it reached forward, massive claws extending toward the child. A deep, guttural growl echoed in its throat, trembling with tension. There was a hesitation anymore. Then, with a sudden burst of savage intent—

SWIPE.

The beast's claws tore through the baby—except... they didn't. No blood. No wound.

The attack passed through him.

The only mark left behind was a glowing five-clawed sigil, lunar silver burning faintly against the infant's forehead before fading, as if it had never been there at all.

And then the baby screamed.

The piercing wail echoed like a siren, loud enough to shake the glass vials on the medical tray nearby. The creature flinched back, eyes narrowing.

"I can't kill a Nyxilith," it growled, voice like wind howling through a canyon. "But you won't awaken either." Without another word, the werewolf twisted and vanished, dissolving back into the void as though it had never been there.

And just as the last trace of its presence faded—

And then—the woman stirred.

Her eyelids fluttered open, sharp violet eyes blinking into focus. Then narrowing. Her gaze swept the room, resting instantly on her wailing child. She sat up, body moving with a suddenness that spoke of instincts long-forgotten but never dulled.

She lifted the infant into her arms, cradling him gently.

But her expression wasn't just maternal—it was focused. Calculating. "Someone dared to... put me to sleep?" she whispered, voice low, dangerous.

And just like that, the world around her... cracked.

The walls, the furniture, the entire room shattered like fragile glass, flickering with golden cracks as the illusion collapsed, revealing the truth beneath.

The room remained just as pristine as before, only the illusion that had been affecting her was all the disappeared. The scent of lilies still lingered, the soft candlelight still danced along the marble, and the golden trims still shimmered in perfect elegance. Yet, beneath all that perfection, something felt wrong. Continue your journey on My Virtual Library Empire

The illusion had been flawless—so perfect, even she had been fooled into it.

As she sat up swiftly, cradling the baby into her arms, her expression softening for a heartbeat before it shifted—focused. Her gaze swept the room, lingering on the open space where the portal had been. Her eyes narrowed.

"Someone was here." Her voice dropped further, venom laced in every word. Her eyes glowed faintly as she scanned the empty space. Not just someone. Someone powerful.

"An Omnipotent," she hissed. "Those sneaky pests... I'll return the favor a hundredfold." Still cradling the crying baby, she finally loosened her expression, calming him as she gently guided him toward her chest to nurse, the tension melting just slightly.

She didn't notice.

Not yet.

She wouldn't realize what had really happened to her son...

Not for another three years later.

****

The car sat deathly still in the mansion's garage, its sleek body casting a long reflection across the marble floor. Parker was slumped against the seat, head resting awkwardly into the airbag where the impact had left a faint mark on his temple. He didn't stir. Didn't flinch.

Then—like a pulse of energy from deep within—an ethereal glow began to spread across his skin. Pale lunar light, soft yet fierce, bled out from beneath his shirt, illuminating the edges of his neck, his arms, his face. The source? Five distinct claw marks, glowing a haunting silvery-white, stretched across his chest like ancient scars.

No blood. No injury. Just light—like something far older than him had marked him. Locking him.

But then, the middle mark—the fifth swipe—flickered. And without warning, it vanished completely, as if erased from existence. Only four glowing lines remained. And those four? They flared—bright enough to paint the entire garage in hues of pale silver—before dimming, retreating back into his skin, hidden as if they'd never been there at all. But they had.

A soft chime echoed in the silent car.

[Ding! New Mission Generated.

Mission: Debt of Fate!

Objective: Find and Conquer the Descendants of the Origin Families.

Reward: Direction Mission to the Path!]

The system's notification hovered faintly in Parker's vision—silent, waiting—but he wasn't conscious to see it. The text lingered for a few heartbeats longer before it, too, dissolved into nothingness.

The garage returned to silence.

But something had changed.

****

Beneath the earth, where light had long forgotten its way, an ancient underground chamber trembled, the stone groaning as if disturbed from a centuries-long slumber. Then—one by one—pale gray flames bloomed to life along the stony black walls, their cold fire licking the air with a quiet, otherworldly pulse.

Shadows danced along the rugged stone, shifting unnaturally as if the flames themselves whispered secrets older than memory.

The corridor stretched endlessly, flanked by towering obsidian pillars carved with symbols that pulsed faintly with the same gray hue. At the far end, a massive door loomed—a fortress of black, unyielding material unlike anything found on Earth. Embedded within its surface was a grotesque carving of a creature's face, twisted and complex, defying human understanding.

Two pale, glassy gray eyes stared forward with eerie calm, while a third eye sat in the center of its forehead—closed. Not quite an eye, yet unmistakably capable of watching.

Then—without warning—the third eye opened.

It didn't blink. Didn't shift. Just... opened.

A hole, perfectly shaped to match the compass Parker carried, the heirloom of his father. The pale glow rippled once more before the eye's slit narrowed, a silent invitation—or perhaps a warning.

****

Far from the depths of that chamber, among the ancient peaks of Mount Wuyi, the Zhang family manor stood as a masterpiece where nature and humanity whispered in harmony.

A narrow, winding path of smooth stone led through a sea of lilac and cherry blossoms, the petals scattering underfoot. At its end, a solitary pagoda rested atop a raised platform, its curved eaves painted deep crimson with gold accents, ancient yet pristine.

And there—within the heart of this sanctum—sat a woman.