The mountain was quiet.
Too quiet.
The Black Abyss Sect—once feared across three provinces—was now nothing but scorched ruins and scattered bones. Smoke curled from shattered pagodas. Spirit beasts howled from the distance, afraid to approach the cursed land where Mo Tian now stood.
Alone.
Unchallenged.
Unmerciful.
At the center of the sect's shattered arena, Mo Tian meditated beneath a broken statue of the Sect Master he had personally executed. The air around him twisted unnaturally—space itself bending, as if the heavens tried to reject his presence.
From his core, tendrils of black Qi pulsed outward, slowly coiling around the corpses scattered across the courtyard. Their flesh shriveled. Their dantians cracked. Their souls screamed—
—and vanished into his body.
> "Devour the weak. Feed the strong. Then devour the strong."
That was the first line of the Devouring Dao, his own creation. A path of endless consumption. A heretical Dao forbidden by every major sect.
And now, it was alive within him.
A sudden tremor rippled across the ground. A flare of golden spiritual light descended from the sky—pure, divine, oppressive.
A man in pristine white robes landed just beyond the gate, flanked by four elite disciples. His sword radiated heaven-grade energy. His presence crushed the wind around him.
> "Mo Tian," the man spat. "I am Elder Fang of the Celestial Lotus Sect. By decree of the Heavenly Alliance, you are to be captured and executed for mass slaughter, soul corruption, and Dao devouring. Submit, and you may die cleanly."
Mo Tian slowly opened his eyes. No fear. No surprise. Just hunger.
> "The Celestial Lotus Sect," he repeated, rising to his feet, barefoot on ash. "You were one of the first to call my mother a demon. You burned her name. You laughed when she begged for mercy."
He cracked his neck. The halberd of swirling black metal formed in his palm—twisting with Qi stolen from every cultivator he had ever killed.
> "You say I'm to be executed?"
He stepped forward.
> "Then come. Try."
The ground exploded beneath his feet as he surged forward, leaving behind only a single sentence:
> "Your sect will be next."
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Please wait for Chapter 3.