In a single motion, the twenty sect leaders cupped their fists and bowed low. Sweat trickled down their foreheads, snaking along their noses. The faint splashes resounded in their ears, dwarfing the sound of the scraping doors.
An invisible pressure pressed on their shoulders, their own fears shackling their limbs, gripping their throats. Their powers, ranks, and prides beca aningless trinkets in front of the silhouette hovering inside the light.
It wrapped around him in a blinding, deceptively warm halo. But they knew the slightest outburst or provocation would spell their doom.
The deafening thuds of their hearts reverberated against their ribs, spreading into their bones for a mont that seed to stretch forever.
Before they suffocated, however, the light faded. Cool natural shadows embraced their sweat-drenched backs like benefactors providing refreshnts to thirsty travellers. Tian Long’s head even moved slightly, as if thanking them.
"Three days waiting at my doorstep." The man’s voice echoed with a tone as refined as it was ancient—soft yet commanding, warm but cunning. "Twenty sect leaders and as many guardian beasts. I can’t help but wonder what prompted such an unusual group to solicit ."
A ceremonious silence settled on the plain for a few seconds before he nodded. "You may rise to answer."
Instantly, Tian Long sighed in relief, followed by the others. Straightening his back, he locked his gaze with the Dao ancestor’s scarlet eyes.
Long auburn hair frad his youthful face, cascading down a ramrod back. His robes fluttered mid-air, the sober dark exterior contrasting with the intense red inner fabric.
The man looked like a cultivator barely entering his twenties, slightly neglected with his untied hair, and approachable. But Tian Long knew better—they all did.
The dragon slayer, protector of the realm, immortal sword venerable; the man had been given many titles over his long life, none resounding louder than his real na.
With a deep inhale and a soft cough to fix his voice, Tian Long nodded. "We wouldn’t dare disturb Xueyin, The Crimson Blade, without reason." He paused, waiting for Xueyin’s acknowledgent. After receiving a brief nod, he continued. "Mages’ activities have run rampant in the central region. With each passing day, they beco bolder, kill more people, and scavenge the cultivators’ resources like vultures."
"Don’t you think this all falls under your responsibilities?" Xueyin cut him off, his eyes narrowing. "I hope there is sothing more to your visit—genuinely."
The weight of the gaze alone caused Tian Long to stagger three steps back, his pupils constricted, his heart almost bursting in horror. He had felt it: the icy kiss of tal chopping through his limbs, eviscerating and beheading him.
As he clutched his chest, gasping, Yan Fei’s voice cracked slightly.
"Of course, there is more, venerable. Forgive Tian Long for his long introduction." She clutched her hands over her stomach, yet they still trembled. "Rogue mages are not the problem—rather, one of them is. We discovered a blessed land in the valley of certain death. Competition raged between our disciples, but he had already infiltrated them."
She cast a reproachful glance at the other leaders. "He..."
WHOOSH
A roaring gale suddenly whipped her hair against her face. She turned, only to see Xueyin looming over her, his hands reaching for her shoulders. Horrified, she felt them grip her in a vice.
"I nad this valley myself to stop resource-crazed fools like you from finding it—from freeing the evil residing within." His fingers dug into her shoulder like claws, forcing her to bite her lips not to howl in agony. "Speak fast and clearly. Did you unseal it? Did the mage let Andras’ puppet possess him?" His voice grew deep, laden with thousands of years of suppressed rage. "Did you doom the realm?"
"N-No!" Yan Fei yelled, stuttering from the pain. "T-The mage d-destroyed it. He stole everything!"
The grip loosened around her shoulders as Xueyin’s eyes widened. "Impossible," he muttered, recalling the green flas that had drowned the realm in oceans of ashes fifty thousand years ago. The owl-headed puppet’s laugh still haunted his worst nightmares, forcing him to see a truth he hated: he had fled.
Only the lunatic void emperor and his unorthodox cultivation techniques stood tall against the threat and managed, against all odds, to seal it in his blessed land.
How it happened didn’t matter. He and the other two Dao Ancestors had imdiately moved to shroud the blessed land and warp the valley’s ecosystem into a hellish wasteland no one would dare approach. And yet, they not only found it, but soone shattered an artifact even he couldn’t destroy.
After a mont, he glared at Yan Fei. "Are you sure? Where is the mage, and what happened to the blessed land?"
Yan Fei’s eyes slipped to the side. "As I said, he stole everything—the resources, the techniques, even the land itself. Our twenty sects joined forces to take it back, but..." She shuddered, ice crawling down her spine. "Our attacks barely rippled against the barriers he’d raised. The shockwaves shattered our spiritual idols, and a single mana blast—one I’ll never forget—could have rewritten the entire region if he’d willed it. I don’t know where he is, but I wouldn’t dare lie to you. The puppet is gone."
"If it’s truly gone..." A predatory smile spread across Xueyin’s face. "The void emperor’s legacy is finally free for the taking." He patted Yan Fei’s shoulders, laughing. "You did well, very well!"
A wave of relief spread through the twenty sect leaders and guardian beasts as the boiling pressure cooled.
"I’ll hunt him down myself, so share whatever information you have." He tapped his cheek, a thoughtful frown deepening on his brow. "A reward is in order. You may claim the land’s resources, the Emperor’s library, and his armory. But the land itself, its ecosystems, and the Emperor’s cultivation technique—those are mine."
Delighted, the sect leaders clenched their fists. However, they gazed at each other, paling the next second. They had no idea who the mage was, or if one of them had secretly colluded with him.
Tian Long, who had recovered, stepped forward. He scratched his head, his lips twisted. "About that, we don’t..."
"Sky-blue hair and eyes." A sudden, familiar voice reverberated behind him.
He snapped back, eyes wide on the golden scales of his sect’s guardian beast, who continued.
"He was eight last ti I saw him, so sixteen now. His na is..." A hesitant frown creased the dragon’s brow for a split second. Three days of silence were enough repaynt for escaping injuries. Now he had to speak. "His na is Adam. I suspect he’s a mage adept at mimicking qi signatures to blend among cultivators."
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AN: It’s just the beginning...
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