The serene tranquility of the mountain fortress fractured like thin ice beneath a sledgehammer.
A violent gale of spiritual pressure tore across the trees as four figures, each cloaked in the robes of the Heavenly Flying Sect, descended from the clouds. Their presence warped the very air around them. They were Core Formation Level 5 elders, and their eyes burned with fury.
They hovered above the cliff edge, gazes locked on the fortress.
"This is the place," one growled.
Another sneered. "Kill them all. Burn the entire mountain if you must. Our disciples will not die in vain."
Without warning, they raised their palms—and the heavens answered.
Vast waves of spiritual energy surged down like thunderclouds, crashing toward the fortress in a devastating cascade. Buildings trembled. Rocks split. Trees burst into splinters.
Inside the stronghold, Hei Mo and Mu Chen bolted from the strategy hall. Blood drained from their faces as they sensed the overwhelming power.
"Core Formation... Level Five?!" Mu Chen gasped.
"We can't hold them back... not like this," Hei Mo gritted out, raising his arms and forming defensive barriers with all the power he could muster.
Several elite cultivators rushed to aid them, forming defensive formations. Blades, talismans, and poison mist clashed against the incoming waves—but it was like trying to block a tidal wave with paper.
BOOM!
The first wave of spiritual shockwaves shattered their defense. Blood sprayed as several cultivators were flung backward. Hei Mo slammed into a stone wall, coughing violently. Mu Chen skidded across the dirt, barely upright.
Laughter echoed across the sky.
"You worms dare resist? You haven't even reached Core Formation! Pathetic!"
Just as one of the elders prepared a second palm strike—
A door creaked.
From the wooden house nestled within the inner sanctum, Xuan Long stepped out.
Calm.
Silent.
His hands behind his back, his robes rippling gently in the storm.
The lead elder scowled. "You must be the leader. Die like the rest."
He thrust his palm forward, launching a deadly wave of spiritual energy straight at Xuan Long.
To everyone's astonishment—Xuan Long didn't dodge.
He didn't raise a hand.
He simply stood still.
The spiritual attack slammed into him—and disappeared, sucked into his body like a drop of ink vanishing in the ocean.
There wasn't even a scratch.
The elder's eyes bulged. "Impossible—"
Xuan Long flicked his fingers.
A silver pulse of Qi sliced through the air like judgment.
The elder's body disintegrated into ash.
The other three froze.
Then roared in rage, unleashing their full strength. One conjured chains of spiritual fire. Another summoned swords from the void. The third gathered a massive thunderstorm.
The mountain rumbled.
Xuan Long sighed.
With a single wave of his hand, all three attacks unraveled. Space itself distorted, the energy consumed into a vacuum-like distortion—and then, with a flash, Xuan Long retaliated.
Three beams of void light pierced the sky.
Three more bodies fell.
Silent.
Ash.
Gone.
The battlefield fell into eerie quiet.
Hei Mo coughed, dragging himself to his feet, eyes wide in disbelief. "He... killed Core Formation Elders... like ants..."
Mu Chen stood beside him, trembling with awe.
Xuan Long turned to them, his voice cool. "They were warned."
Hei Mo chuckled through the blood in his mouth. "Well... if you don't mind, I'll handle the loot."
He and his elite squad worked quickly, collecting four spatial rings and dozens of high-grade pills and artifacts. Then, Hei Mo's eyes gleamed. From one of the corpses, he drew a glowing crimson core.
He began chanting, forming seals with dark energy.
"Blood Refinement Art – Puppet Binding Ritual."
The air turned cold. The dead elder's body twitched.
Dark tendrils of Qi bound it together, transforming it into a fearsome puppet—its spiritual power intact, now enslaved.
It opened its eyes. Obedient. Silent.
A Core Formation Level 4 Corpse Puppet.
Hei Mo swallowed the Blood Pill he'd refined during the process. His aura erupted like a volcano.
BOOM.
His cultivation broke through. Core Formation Level 1.
The power burst from him in waves, twisting the surrounding air.
His five elite followers each consumed weaker pills and surged forward, now Foundation Realm Level 10. Mu Chen, standing slightly behind, silently broke into Foundation Level 8.
The army was no longer a rogue faction—it was a force of dread.
Xuan Long nodded approvingly. "Well done, Hei Mo. That puppet… it'll be useful."
Hei Mo grinned, his eyes dark with confidence. "I'll raise an entire puppet legion soon."
Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, the Heavenly Flying Sect grew restless.
Inside the high altar, four candles extinguished in unison. The spiritual life-tracking altar dimmed.
Gasps filled the hall.
A disciple rushed in.
"Sect Leader! The life lamps of Elders Qin, Zhao, Wen, and Yun have been extinguished!"
The Sect Leader stood slowly, his expression frozen in fury.
"All four...?"
"Yes… all four, dead."
The Sect Leader's voice trembled with wrath.
"Then whoever killed them has declared war."
He turned to his inner council.
"Prepare the elders. Summon the inner disciples. We march soon. That mountain will be bathed in blood."
Beyond the horizon, the winds stirred.
War was coming.
But Xuan Long… was ready.