The deep, booming, and utterly joyous laughter of the Sect Master echoed across the sky, a sound so full of triumphant satisfaction that it momentarily drowned out the feverish, worshipping chants of the disciples below.
For a hundred years, he had been a pillar of calm, a stoic leader navigating the treacherous currents of the cultivation world with careful diplomacy and restrained power. He had borne the insults of stronger sects, the condescension of more powerful experts, and the constant, grinding pressure of being the guardian of a small, vulnerable power.
But today, all of that was gone. Today, the Green Mountain Sect was not a timid mouse, but a raging, terrifying dragon. And he was its roar.
He let his laughter subside, a slow, cold, and utterly contemptuous smile spreading across his face as his gaze swept over the terrified, broken army before him. The ten elite imperial soldiers were gone, erased from existence as if they had never been. The remaining forces on the two warships were frozen in place, their faces pale with a terror so profound it had stolen the very breath from their lungs.
The Sect Master raised his finger again, a single, elegant digit of judgment. He pointed it, slowly, deliberately, at a heavily armored lieutenant standing on the deck of the imperial dreadnought.
The man shrieked, a high, thin sound of pure panic, and threw himself to the deck, desperately trying to hide behind a siege crossbow. The soldiers around him scrambled away, a wave of terror parting around the spot where the Sect Master's finger was aimed.
A cruel, satisfied chuckle rumbled in the Sect Master's chest. He moved his finger, pointing to another section of the ship. Again, the soldiers ducked and cowered, their discipline shattered, their courage a distant memory.
"What is the matter?" the Sect Master's voice was a low, dangerous taunt that carried easily across the now-silent sky. "I thought you came here for a war. I thought you came to exterminate our 'insignificant clan.' And yet, you tremble when an old man points a finger at you. Is this the might of the Boreal Frost Empire? Is this the courage of the Frostwind Sword Sect?"
He was on a roll, a lifetime of repressed frustration and anger finally finding a voice. The feeling was intoxicating, a release so profound it was almost a spiritual experience in itself. 'So this is what it feels like,' he thought, a wild, almost manic, joy surging through him. 'To not have to calculate every word. To not have to bow and scrape and offer respectful greetings to arrogant fools who see you as nothing more than an ant. To finally, for once in my life, be the one who holds the absolute, unshakeable power.' The war had been forced upon them, a disaster he had dreaded. But in this moment, he would not trade this feeling for anything in the world.
He pointed his finger directly at the pale-faced General Vorst. "You! General! You came here demanding my disciple. You threatened to turn my mountain to dust. Why are you so quiet now? Come! Let us fight! Let me see the power of an imperial legion! I promise you," he said, his smile turning into a vicious, predatory grin, "I am not afraid of you."
General Vorst, for all his fear, was still a seasoned commander, and his pride was still intact. He was beginning to formulate a new theory. It was not an artifact. It was a formation. A terrifying, single-target assassination array that the Sect Master was somehow controlling. It was powerful, yes, but it had to have a cost, a limit.
"You dare threaten a General of the Third Prince?" Vorst snarled, forcing a bravado he did not feel. "You may have some strange, hidden power, but you are a fool, old man! Do you truly comprehend the might you have provoked? When His Highness hears of this, he will not send two ships; he will send a thousand! He will grind your mountain, your disciples, and your very legacy into a fine powder! Surrender now, let us leave with our lives, and you may yet be granted a quick death!"
The Sect Master listened to the threat, the same kind of threat he had been forced to endure and navigate his entire life. But today, he did not have to endure it. Today, he could mock it. He even had time to realize the absurd statement that a thousand would be sent, if they had that kind of power they would have ruled the entire region long ago.
He threw his head back and laughed again, a sound of pure, unadulterated amusement. "The Third Prince? You mean the mewling little brat who is so terrified of his own siblings that he has to send his dogs across the continent to kill a little girl? That Third Prince?"
The insult was so direct, so utterly disrespectful, that even the Green Mountain Sect elders flinched. One did not speak of an imperial prince in such a way.
"You dare!" Vorst roared, his face turning purple with rage.
"I dare!" the Sect Master roared back, his own voice drowning out the general's. He was truly going wild now, the words pouring out of him in a torrent of unrestrained, cathartic fury. "You come to my home, you threaten my disciples, you try to bully us with the name of your spoiled, power-hungry master, and you think you can simply leave when the tide turns? You think the Green Mountain is an inn you can come and go from as you please? What a fool! A fool serving a fool!"
He pointed a final, accusatory finger at the entire enemy fleet. "You came looking for a battle! You came looking for death!" His voice dropped to a low, menacing promise. "You might as well stay, then!"
He then did something that sealed their fate. He waved his hand, a grand, sweeping, and utterly final gesture. It was the last signal, the one Li Yu had told him to use when he wanted it all to end.
The moment his hand swept through the air, the world changed.
It was not a javelin this time. It was something far more profound, far more terrifying. The very space around the two warships began to tremble and distort. A deep, resonant hum, a sound that was not a sound but a vibration of reality itself, filled the air.
And then, the pressure hit.
Domain of the Stygian Void: First Edict - Absolute Weight.
On the decks of the two warships, every single soldier, from the lowest Qi Condensation grunt to the mighty General Vorst himself, was slammed to the ground as if struck by an invisible, continental-sized hammer. They did not fall; they were driven, their bodies smashing into the frosted wood with a series of sickening, wet crunches as their bones shattered under their own, suddenly magnified, weight.
General Vorst, a 2nd-level Core Formation expert, let out a strangled, agonized cry as he was pressed flat against his own deck, his masterwork armor groaning and buckling, his powerful body utterly, completely helpless. He tried to raise his head, to speak, to beg, but he could not. The gravity that held him was not just a physical force; it was an absolute law, a command from a being whose power was as far beyond his as the heavens were from the earth.
The Green Mountain Sect elders stared, their faces masks of pure, soul-shaking horror. This was not the clean, surgical annihilation of the javelins. This was a slow, crushing, and utterly merciless display of absolute dominance. They looked at their Sect Master, who stood there with his hand still outstretched, and they felt a new, profound, and deeply primal fear.
The pressure held for a long, agonizing five seconds. And then, Khaos clenched his metaphorical fist.
The bodies of the soldiers, already broken and pinned, were simply… crushed. They imploded with a series of soft, wet sounds, their armor, their flesh, their very bones collapsing in on themselves until they were nothing more than small, dense spheres of matter that rolled across the silent, empty decks. It was a neat, efficient, and utterly horrifying extermination.
But one person was spared.
On the deck of the lead dreadnought, a single, low-level Qi Condensation soldier, a young man who had been cowering near the back, was left completely unharmed. He lay on the deck, trembling and weeping, surrounded by the small, dense spheres that had once been his comrades. He had been left alive. On purpose.
The oppressive, world-ending pressure vanished as quickly as it had come.
Utter silence returned to the sky. The cheers of the disciples below had died in their throats, replaced by a stunned, fearful quiet.
The Sect Master slowly lowered his hand. He looked at the two warships, now silent, empty ghost ships, their decks littered with the horrifying, compressed remains of their crews. He looked at the single, sobbing survivor. He had known Li Yu's power was great. He had not known it was the power of a god of death. He took a deep, shuddering breath, pushing his own shock down, and completed the role he had been given.
He turned his gaze to the lone survivor, his voice a cold, clear, and utterly merciless command that echoed across the silent sky.
"Go back," the Sect Master said, his voice the very sound of judgment. "Go back to your Third Prince. Tell him what you saw here today. Tell him that the Green Mountain Sect is not a flock of sheep to be slaughtered. Tell him that this mountain has a guardian, and its patience is thin. Tell him to think long, and hard, before he ever considers sending his dogs to our door again."
This was part of the plan they had discussed together, leaving a survivor to tell the tale of power. A tale that is profound enough to deter forces. Having the story spread, other forces will think twice or even three times before coming here to challenge. 2 core formation experts, instantly destroyed without being able to fight, their troops destroyed with them.
The lone survivor, his mind shattered, could only nod, his body shaking uncontrollably. He scrambled to his feet and fled, a terrified messenger carrying a tale of impossible power and absolute annihilation back to his imperial master.
In his quiet valley, Li Yu stood atop his nine-story pagoda, a calm, serene expression on his face. He looked out at the two silent, drifting warships, and then back at the rest of the sect.
He sent a single, quiet thought into his sanctuary. 'Thank you, Khaos. That was… perhaps a bit more dramatic than I intended. But effective nonetheless.'
A deep, rumbling, and profoundly smug voice echoed back in his mind. "This king is always effective, boy. You should learn to appreciate the theatricality of true power. I have taken a liking to your so-called Sect Master, his personality just now suits this king."
Li Yu was speechless, it looks like Khaos liked those who are fearless and with a venomous tongue.