The might of the Dao Enlightenment Stage(5) expert was truly immeasurable — his foes appeared no more threatening than ants scurrying futilely at his feet, their struggles as insignificant as dust in the wind.
As for the enigmatic elder, his deeds were utterly appalling. With ruthless efficiency, he dispatched the young warriors using methods of extreme cruelty. It seemed that the turmoil he was causing held no concern for him whatsoever — he was utterly determined to eradicate every soul present that day, his resolve unshakable.
The scene was so horrifying that all spectators were plunged into profound despair. They bitterly lamented not having abandoned this accursed place from the very outset. The tragedy unfolded in gruesome detail: pools of blood and lifeless corpses were visible everywhere — the death toll mounted into the hundreds, each body a testament to the carnage unfolding before their eyes.
- Xiao Chen, have you completely lost your mind? — Xia Qingyue's voice trembled, a mixture of fury and despair evident in every word. - Do you truly intend to drown every single soul in blood?
Faced with the chilling reality, she recoiled as if struck a devastating blow to the chest. Blood drained from her face, leaving her skin deathly pale as porcelain. Eyes that had been filled with determination just moments before now reflected primal terror — every nerve in her body screamed that resistance would only hasten their doom.
Her hands clenched into futile fists as her gaze swept over Xiao Chen. Not a trace of former warmth remained in him — only icy detachment, as if she were seeing this man for the very first time, and this revelation pierced her heart like a dagger.
- Stop! — Xiao Chen's voice cut off abruptly, like a severed string. His outstretched palm, frozen in mute pleading, trembled like an autumn leaf in the wind. - Please, stop!
The old man merely sneered — the sound resembled ice cracking under a boot. His eyes, cold as the depths of space, swept over the young man, as if appraising this pitiful attempt at resistance. Every muscle in the elder's face exuded contempt.
- Today, everyone will die. Crowns and rags will be levelled by dust. — The elder's hissing whisper made even the air freeze.
Xia Qingyue couldn't hold back and helplessly closed her eyes; she had no means to resist this attack.
«Maybe this is… karma…» — Her voice trailed off. «After all, I gave you the poison myself. Now you've turned it into a curse for all of us…»
However, in the next instant, the pain she had anticipated never materialised. Instead, she heard a gentle and warm voice, like a ray of sun breaking through storm clouds. The terrifying vibrations from the expert's attack had been blocked.
- Fortunately, I arrived just in time. — The voice was soft yet carried an ironclad certainty.
Upon hearing it, Xia Qingyue's eyes snapped open. For a moment, her pupils dilated like those of a deer encountering a hunter — surprise mingled with hope that had not yet formed into a coherent thought. She instinctively inhaled, and the scent of rain and freshness filled her nostrils, contrasting sharply with the metallic taste of fear in her mouth.
Her fingers, which had been frantically clutching the fabric of her dress, finally relaxed, leaving damp trails of sweat on the silk. Her heart, pounding like a trapped bird, began to slow — not immediately, but with each beat growing more steady and assured.
At some point, a young man suddenly appeared before her. He wasn't particularly tall, but his posture was impeccable — his back straight, as if bearing the invisible weight of the world upon his shoulders. His gentle eyes, like two fragments of the moon, radiated tranquility, while his white robe with wide sleeves fluttered in the wind, creating an aura of light around him. Even in this critical situation, he remained as unperturbed as an ancient temple that had endured millennia of storms.
He was none other than Xie Yan. Until this moment, he had been observing the events from the shadows, allowing the chaos to reach its peak before stepping into the light. His appearance was like dawn after a long night — unexpected yet inevitable.
- You… — Xia Qingyue's voice faded into a whisper, as if her tongue had suddenly become too heavy for her mouth.
Eyes — two sapphires frozen in an icy frame of eyelashes — followed his retreating figure intently. It seemed as if Xie Yan's snow-white robe emitted a hypnotic glow, making one forget that beneath that silk lay scars from ten thousand battles.
Memory flashed a fragment: his hand offering a flask while he dictated his terms. Back then, his voice had sounded like the creak of scabbards against suede.
But now, watching his robe flutter in tune with the world's breathing, she suddenly realized the terrible truth — this man was beautiful. Like a blade in moonlight. Like the pattern of frost on a knife's edge.
- He's an Immortal!!! He has appeared! — The voice thundered across the battlefield like a bolt of lightning splitting the storm clouds.
- This young man is from the Upper Realm! Excellent! We are saved! — Shouts of joy merged into a single cry, drowning out the clashing of steel and the death rattles of the dying.
- The Immortal has come to save us! — People threw themselves to their knees, stretching out emaciated hands towards the sky, as if trying to grasp the hem of the saviour's cloak.
Their eyes, usually dulled by fear, now burned like coals in a blacksmith's forge. Joyful cries soared to the heavens, weaving into an anthem that seemed capable of awakening even the dead.
- The Immortal is finally here. If he had arrived any later, I fear we would all have perished… — Whispers of gratitude turned into sobs, mingling with the stench of blood.
- Who are you? Are you seeking death?! — The voice of the expert in the black robe dripped with venom like a snake ready to deliver a fatal bite.
Having witnessed his devastating attack being effortlessly blocked, he fell into a frenzy of rage. An icy fire flared in his eyes — so searing that it seemed capable of freezing the very soul and reducing everything living in its path to ashes.
His gaze, filled with hatred, fixed on Xie Yan. And what he saw made his blood run cold — in the youth's hand rested a crimson sword, red as fresh blood, emitting a murderous aura capable of terrifying even the bravest of warriors. It was this very blade that Xie Yan had just used to halt his deadly attack, as if effortlessly deflecting a strike powerful enough to split mountains.
Watching the unfolding battle, the crowd found a glimmer of hope. The presence of the Immortal instilled confidence — his arsenal of techniques was so vast that the old man had not the slightest chance of emerging victorious from this battle. If he dared to engage in confrontation, then the outcome was already decided.
«Who is he?!» — Xiao Chen's thoughts raced frantically as she scrutinized the stranger. Her gaze reflected both amazement and wariness. Something about this man's appearance aroused an inexplicable unease within her, though she couldn't pinpoint what exactly. An intuition honed by years of battle whispered: this enigmatic saviour was not to be trusted.
*****
Sorrow's Embrace:
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