This Junior Sister is a bit Introverted

Roran POV:

Roran’s fingers tightened around the ancestral necklace, a cherished relic from his maternal family.

The cold metal pressed against his chest, a tangible link to a past that felt both distant and painfully present. This necklace was not just an heirloom; it was his sole anchor to the world he had lost and the source of his strength to persevere.

For years, the necklace had been a symbol of hope and determination. It was the one thing that reminded him of his family's legacy and fueled his drive to uncover the truth about his parents’ mysterious disappearance.

♠♠♠

 

In his previous life, Roran had discovered the necklace's true function under unexpected circumstances.

He remembered vividly how he had joined the Azure Sky Sect, one of the most prestigious sects within the Immortal Alliance, after Elder Soryn, a respected figure in the sect, took notice of his potential and invited him to become his personal disciple. The Azure Sky Sect was renowned for its vast influence and resources, making it the perfect place for Roran to seek answers about his family’s fate.

Without hesitation, Roran accepted Elder Soryn’s offer.

Under the sect’s protection, he was free to focus entirely on his cultivation. The Azure Sky Sect provided him with access to their finest fire-attribute cultivation techniques, including the Blazing Inferno Method.

This Earth-grade mid-tier technique allowed practitioners to refine their spiritual energy into a blazing inferno, significantly enhancing their offensive capabilities and cultivation speed. The rigorous training regimen required cultivating in extreme heat, which tempered both body and soul.

In addition to the Blazing Inferno Method, Roran trained in various Earth-grade fire-attribute martial arts such as Flame Serpent Palm and Lava Burst Technique—skills typically reserved for core and personal disciples. The intensive training and access to these techniques accelerated his growth, and within three years, he had become a formidable cultivator.

It was during the Immortal Alliance's competition that fate took an unexpected turn. Injured in the fray, Roran's blood stained the necklace. To his astonishment, the necklace revealed its true nature as a planting space. This hidden function opened up a realm where he could cultivate herbs and refine alchemical ingredients with unparalleled efficiency.

Seizing this opportunity, Roran delved into the art of alchemy, quickly rising to become a 1st-grade alchemist within a month. The abundance of pills and elixirs at his disposal allowed him to sustain his cultivation without hindrance. As the years passed, Roran’s skills flourished, and by the age of nineteen, he had reached the Foundation Establishment stage.

Despite his rapid advancement, Roran's original goal remained clear: finding his parents.

To achieve this, he needed substantial contribution points. Elder Soryn, recognizing Roran’s determination, provided him with a pathway. With the elder’s recommendation, Roran joined the Shadowbane Order—a division of the Immortal Alliance dedicated to hunting and exterminating evil cultivators. Membership in this order was both prestigious and significant, offering him the chance to earn contribution points through missions and combat.

With his new position, Roran was not only able to accumulate contribution points more efficiently but also took the opportunity to confront his uncle. Determined to reclaim his family's wealth, Roran used his authority within the Shadowbane Order to pressure his uncle, Eirik Lareth into handing over the assets that rightfully belonged to his parents.

The process of reclaiming his parents' assets ran more smoothly than Roran had anticipated, though not without its challenges. His uncle, Eirik, initially resisted, unwilling to relinquish the wealth he had usurped.

"If you think you can just waltz in here and take what’s mine, you’re sorely mistaken." (Eirik)

"What’s yours? Everything you have belongs to my parents. You stole it, and now I’m taking it back." (Roran)

Roran met his uncle’s gaze with unwavering determination.

Eirik scoffed, his aura intensifying as he prepared to unleash his strength.

"Do you really think you, a mere 1st Foundation Building cultivator, can take me on? I’m at the peak of the 6th Foundation Building stage! You’re out of your depth, boy." (Eirik)

"I didn’t come alone, Uncle. I came with the backing of the Shadowbane Order." (Roran)

Roran remained calm, his voice steady.

At Roran’s signal, his squadron members stepped forward, their combined presence creating an overwhelming pressure that made Eirik falter. Realizing the futility of resistance, Eirik’s defiance crumbled. He clenched his fists, his expression twisted in anger and frustration, but he knew he had no choice but to comply.

Eirik spat, his voice laced with bitterness.

"Fine, take it all then. But remember, Roran, this isn’t over." (Eirik)

"It was over the moment you betrayed our family." (Roran)

Roran nodded, his expression devoid of emotion.

As Roran and his squadron began the process of reclaiming the estate, he encountered Arin Lareth, his childhood sweetheart. She stood in the hallway, her eyes wide with a mix of surprise and joy upon seeing him.

Arin’s voice trembled as she took a step forward.

"Brother Roran… is it really you?" (Arin)

"It’s me, Arin..." (Roran)

Roran replied, his tone softening for the first time that day.

But as Arin approached, her expression changed, the realization of his purpose sinking in. She said, gesturing to the house that had been her home for years.

"You’re here for... this. You’ve come to take it back." (Arin)

"I have to. It belongs to my family." (Roran)

Roran nodded.

Arin’s initial joy faded, replaced by a calm acceptance.

"I understand."

She watched in silence as Roran’s squadron evicted her family from the estate, her face a mask of composure. When the task was done, and Roran was about to leave, Arin called out to him.

"Brother Roran, wait."

He turned to face her, seeing the maturity that had transformed her into a fine lady. Her cultivation had also progressed; she was now at the 4th Qi Gathering stage. They stood together in the courtyard, the air heavy with unspoken emotions.

Roran said, his voice tinged with regret.

"I didn’t expect things to turn out this way," (Roran)

"Neither did I... But life has a way of changing us, doesn’t it?" (Arin)

They reminisced about their shared childhood, recalling the days when they were carefree and inseparable.

Despite the tension between their families, an unspoken agreement passed between them—to leave the bitterness behind, if only for a moment, and speak as the friends they once were.

"I attended the Immortal Alliance recruitment ceremony in our birth town... It wasn’t an easy path, but I’ve managed. What about you?" (Arin)

"I’ve joined the Azure Sky Sect, I’m… making progress." (Roran)

Roran said, avoiding the details of his journey.

Arin gave a small, sad smile.

"I’m glad to hear that."

As Roran turned to leave, Arin suddenly stepped forward and kissed him on the mouth. It was a gentle, fleeting kiss, filled with all the emotions she couldn’t express in words.

When she pulled away, tears glistened in her eyes.

"Brother Roran, I’m about to get married. I’m glad my first kiss was with you."

Roran stood there, stunned, as Arin walked away, her words echoing in his mind.

An unfamiliar emotion welled up inside him, something he couldn’t quite identify. The memory of the illusion he had faced during the second trial—the one where they had been married—resurfaced, leaving him conflicted.

"Am I… in love with her?"

He wondered silently. But the reality of their positions weighed heavily on him, and he knew that being together was impossible.

A few weeks later, Arin’s marriage took place. Roran did not attend the wedding, he couldn’t bring himself to face her or the life she was about to start without him. The pain of her departure lingered, plunging him into a deep depression. For an entire month, he neglected his training and cultivation, lost in a haze of sorrow and regret.

Elder Soryn, noticing the drastic change in his disciple, summoned Roran to his chambers. The elder’s wise eyes observed Roran with concern as he spoke.

"Roran, I can see that something is troubling you deeply. This kind of emotional turmoil can be dangerous for a cultivator. It can lead to the development of an inner demon, which could hinder your progress—or worse."

"I don’t know what to do, Elder. I… I can’t stop thinking about her."

Roran lowered his head, unable to meet his mentor’s gaze.

Elder Soryn nodded understandingly.

"Heartache is a part of life, but you must not let it consume you. You need to find a way to move forward, to focus on something that will help you heal."

"What should I do, Elder?"

Roran asked, his voice filled with desperation.

Elder Soryn placed a reassuring hand on Roran’s shoulder.

"Perhaps you should occupy yourself with something that requires your full attention. I suggest taking on more missions with the Shadowbane Order. Hunting evil cultivators will not only help you accumulate contribution points but also allow you to channel your emotions into something productive. It’s an important duty, and it may be just what you need to forget the pain."

"I’ll do as you suggest, Elder. I’ll focus on the missions."

Roran nodded, grasping the lifeline his mentor offered.

With renewed determination, Roran threw himself into his duties, diligently hunting down evil cultivators. The thrill of battle and the satisfaction of purging the wicked temporarily numbed the pain in his heart. For several years, Roran became known as a fierce protector, a cultivator who showed no mercy to those who threatened the peace.

With each mission, his cultivation advanced steadily, and over time, he reached the Core Formation stage—a significant milestone that solidified his reputation as a formidable force within the cultivation world.

But then, everything changed when the Calamity Witch appeared.

 

The Calamity Witch.

A name that strikes fear into the hearts of all, whether they are righteous cultivators or practitioners of the darkest arts.

She was a legend whispered about in secret gatherings, her infamy spread across the cultivation world like wildfire. Her presence sent shockwaves through the cultivation world, disrupting the delicate balance that Roran and others like him had fought so hard to maintain. The path that Roran had carved out for himself, the progress he had made, and the peace he had found were all thrown into chaos by this new and insurmountable threat.

No one knew her true identity, her original name, or even her real appearance. She was a master of disguise, capable of assuming countless identities, slipping into and out of the most secure places unnoticed. This ability to blend in, to become anyone, added to the chilling uncertainty that surrounded her. The only consistent truth that emerged from the countless stories and encounters was that she was female—a woman whose heart had turned as cold and dark as the abyss itself.

The Calamity Witch was not just any cultivator—she was a master of the four sacred arts of cultivation: alchemy, formations, talismans, and metal refining. Her prowess in these arts was unrivaled, making her a formidable opponent on any battlefield. But it was not her mastery of these arts that truly terrifies those who speak of her.

It was her cultivation method—a dark and forbidden technique known as the Blood Essence Devourment Technique.

This sinister method allowed her to absorb the life force and spiritual essence of her victims, using their vitality to propel her own cultivation forward at an alarming rate. The Blood Essence Devourment Technique was exceptionally powerful, enabling rapid advancements in cultivation that most could only dream of. However, it was a path fraught with unimaginable consequences.

Continuous use of the Blood Essence Devourment Technique erodes the practitioner's morality, turning them into a ruthless, cold-blooded monster who views life as nothing more than fuel for their ambitions. The practitioner becomes increasingly detached from humanity, their conscience slowly withering away under the weight of the countless lives they have consumed.

But the cost was not just moral. The practitioner must endure the constant resentment of their victims, whose souls remain tethered to the practitioner, their hatred a festering wound in the practitioner's mind. This leads to emotional instability, driving the practitioner further into madness. And as if that were not enough, the karmic repercussions of the technique are severe. The more life force the practitioner devours, the more they attract heavenly tribulations, curses, and other supernatural consequences that could bring about their downfall.

Over time, the practitioner becomes dependent on the technique, requiring more and more life essence to maintain their power. This creates a vicious cycle of destruction and cultivation, where the practitioner is forced to kill again and again to avoid losing their hard-earned strength. It was a method that can grant rapid advancement in cultivation, but at the cost of one's soul.

The Immortal Alliance has long banned this technique, and anyone found practicing it is hunted down and killed on sight.

The horrors of the Blood Essence Devourment Technique were fully exhibited by the Calamity Witch. She was a living nightmare, feared by all who crossed her path. Her ruthlessness knew no bounds. She would immobilize her enemies, rob them of all their possessions—leaving them with nothing, not even their underwear—and then drain their energy to fuel her cultivation. The victims were left naked, shriveled into mummies, crumbling into dust at the slightest touch, leaving no trace of their existence.

This was not mere rumor or hearsay. The truth of her deeds was recorded in the life stones of her victims, which captured their final moments in harrowing detail. Those who watched these recordings could only shudder in fear, knowing that the Calamity Witch was real, and that she was out there, somewhere, waiting to strike again.

But perhaps what made the Calamity Witch truly terrifying was her cunning.

She was not reckless, she knew when to fight and when to flee.

If she encountered a cultivator stronger than herself or one with a prominent background and strong defenses, she would retreat without hesitation. But her retreat was not the end. She would infiltrate the background of her would-be victim—their clan, their sect, or any force that supported them—and begin her killing spree. She preferred not to draw attention to her actions, instead killing silently, methodically, leaving a trail of death that might not be discovered until it was too late.

By the time her main target realized what had happened, they would often find themselves alone, their family, clan, or sect decimated, their foundation destroyed from within. This was the true terror of the Calamity Witch. She was not just a cultivator—she was a harbinger of doom, a force that could not be stopped once set in motion.

 

Roran was not the first victim of the Calamity Witch, but he was among the earliest.

During one of his missions, he suddenly received urgent news—his Lareth clan had been exterminated. Panic gripped his heart as he raced back to his birthplace, a sense of foreboding gnawing at him.

When he arrived in the town, the atmosphere was eerily quiet. The entire town was under military alert, with every shop and building closed, except for those belonging to the Lareth clan. Even those buildings stood open, but they were empty, as if hastily abandoned. The eerie stillness felt like a void, swallowing all signs of life.

Roran's heart pounded as he made his way to the clan’s settlement, where he found only emptiness. No servants, no animals, no signs of life at all. His family home, once bustling with activity, was now a hollow shell, ransacked and devoid of anything valuable. Even the servants he had hired to maintain the house had vanished without a trace.

Turmoil brewed within Roran. Despite the clan’s treatment of him, it was still the place he grew up, the foundation of his past. Desperation took hold as he scanned the entire settlement with his spiritual power. There was no one in the entire area—except for one person lying in the ancestral hall.

Roran’s heart raced as he rushed to the hall, fearing the worst. When he arrived, he found Arin lying on the ground. A strange formation, one he didn’t recognize, was drawn beneath her.

Worry eclipsed all reason as he approached her, trying to wake her up.

"Arin!"

Roran’s voice trembled with worry as he knelt beside her, gently shaking her shoulders. Her skin was pale, her breath shallow, and her clothes were disheveled as if she had been in a struggle.

If he had been thinking clearly, he would have recognized the situation as a trap. Perhaps he should have brought reinforcements or at least hesitated before entering alone. But his concern for Arin clouded his judgment. The moment he stepped into the room, the trap sprang shut—his spiritual power was suppressed, and he found himself unable to leave.

Arin’s eyes fluttered open, and she looked at Roran with a weak, frightened expression. Her voice was frail, her hand trembling as she reached out to him.

"Brother Roran… You must run…" (Arin?)

"Arin, are you okay? What happened?" (Roran)

Roran asked, his voice filled with desperation as he clasped her hand, trying to reassure her.

Arin looked fragile and scared as she tried to sit up, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Everyone… everyone here is…"

She trailed off, her eyes filling with tears as she reached out to touch his face.

Roran leaned closer, trying to catch her faint words, but the moment her fingers brushed his forehead, her voice twisted into a sinister tone.

"…killed by me."

"You! You are not—"

A cold shiver ran down Roran’s spine. He pulled back, his eyes wide with shock. But it was too late, Roran’s words were cut off as his vision blurred, and his memory ended abruptly.

♠♠♠

 

The nine-year-old Roran awoke from his reminiscence, understanding all too well what had likely happened next: his death. The truth was bitter and painful, knowing that the next target of the witch’s wrath was likely the Azure Sky Sect.

Roran clenched his fists, a storm of emotions raging within him. He hadn’t lived long enough in his past life to know if the witch was ever defeated or to uncover her true motives. But that no longer mattered. What mattered now was that the threat of the Calamity Witch had to be eradicated.

'How dare she use Arin’s appearance?' 

His mind replayed the scene in the ancestral hall over and over again. Arin’s terrified face, her trembling voice, and the way she reached out to him—all of it was seared into his memory. But beneath the fear, there was something else, something that gnawed at him: a deep, gnawing regret.

In his previous life, he hadn’t realized his feelings for Arin until it was too late. He had been too focused on his cultivation, on reclaiming his family’s legacy, and on avenging the wrongs done to him. But now, with the clarity of hindsight, he understood. He was in love with her, and he had let her slip through his fingers.

Never again.

Roran vowed silently to himself.

"This time, things will be different. I will reclaim my strength, I will reach Foundation Establishment first, and when I do, I will claim Arin as mine."

The thought gave him a fierce sense of determination.

He would become strong enough to protect her, to protect everyone he cared about. He would not let the past repeat itself. The Calamity Witch might have been a formidable foe, but Roran had the advantage of foresight, and he intended to use it to its fullest.

The heavens had given him a second chance, and he would not squander it. 

He already knew the path to power, and this time, he would walk it with a purpose that transcended his own ambitions. He would save his clan, protect the Azure Sky Sect, and when the time was right, he would find Arin and make her his. No one, not even a monstrous witch, would stand in his way.