The silence that fell over the besieging army was a tangible thing, a heavy, suffocating blanket woven from pure, soul-deep terror. Tens of thousands of cultivators, from the rawest Qi Condensing disciple to the proudest Core Formation commanders, were frozen in place, their minds overwhelmed by the sheer, undeniable weight of an aura that was fundamentally different from anything they had ever experienced.
In the main command tent at the heart of the encampment, the effect was even more pronounced. The various sect leaders and commanders who had been strategizing their next assault were now pale, trembling figures, their own powerful auras flickering like candles in a hurricane.
The ambitious Sect Master of the Soaring Dragon Sect, the two arrogant princes—all of them were reduced to frightened children in the face of a true, transcendent power. But there was one man among them who felt the terror more keenly, more profoundly, than anyone else. He was a tall, powerfully built man with a grizzled beard and the sharp, arrogant eyes of a predator who had long sat at the top of the food chain.
This was General Zong, the ultimate powerhouse of the princes' army, an expert at the 9th stage of Core Formation. And he was trembling the most.
While the lesser cultivators only knew that they were facing a power beyond their comprehension, he understood it. He understood that the power of a Soul Formation expert was not just a greater magnitude of strength; it was a different kind of existence. They had manifested a true soul, a spiritual entity that could be used to directly attack, defend, and strengthen oneself on a plane he could not even touch.
If one with a true soul attacked someone without one, especially with a soul attack, the results were clear and absolute. He knew, with an instinct honed over centuries of cultivation, that all their numbers, all their strategies, and even his own peak power, were utterly and completely meaningless.
They could throw their entire army at that single figure, and the only result would be a mountain of corpses. It was not a strength they could contend with. It was not a battle they could win. This was not a warrior; this was a natural disaster in human form. The difference between the two realms was massive, all due to the soul.
It could be a fragile thing or something extremely powerful. Such was the difference and only someone at the very peak of core formation could understand the true terror of that step and also how elusive it was.
The ten-second countdown was a formality, an act of supreme mercy from a being who had no need for it. He did not need ten seconds. He did not need one.
With a surge of desperate, life-preserving terror, General Zong roared, his voice a frantic, panicked bellow that tore through the paralyzed silence of the command tent and ripped across the entire encampment.
"MOVE! EVERYONE, MOVE ASIDE! LET THE GRAND ELDER THROUGH! GIVE THEM A WIDE PATH! ANYONE WHO DOES NOT FOLLOW THIS ORDER WILL BE EXECUTED IMMEDIATELY!"
His command, backed by the full force of his own powerful aura, finally broke the paralysis that had gripped the army. A wave of frantic, panicked activity erupted below. A young disciple of an allied sect, his face pale and slick with sweat, felt his legs finally unlock.
The pressure from the sky was so immense it felt like the heavens themselves were collapsing, and his own spirit felt like a tiny, flickering flame about to be extinguished. When the General's order came, he didn't hesitate. He dropped his spear and scrambled backwards, shoving his comrades out of the way, his mind a blank slate of pure terror.
All thoughts of glory, of loyalty, of the mission he was sent here to do were simple gone. There was only one thought left: get out of the way. To stay alive.
As Jian Xuan watched the chaos from above, a serene, almost detached expression on his face, he felt something new. It was a subtle, invisible energy gathering around him, flowing into him not from the spirit stones of the earth, but from the hearts of the tens of thousands of cultivators below.
It was the energy of their awe, their admiration, and their primal fear. It was a resonance, a pure, direct feedback that vibrated in perfect harmony with the core of his newly-accepted dao.
His path was to be the strongest, to be admired, to be envied by all. He had accepted this selfish truth to achieve his breakthrough, believing it to be a personal, internal alignment. But now, he was discovering it was something more. The very emotions his power inspired in others, the awe and fear that were the proof of his strength, could in turn become a source of nourishment for his soul.
It was a perfect, self-sustaining cycle. The stronger he became, the more he would be revered and feared. And the more he was revered and feared, the stronger his dao heart would become. So this is another path I can take to getting stronger.
A quiet, deeply satisfied smile touched his lips. He had discovered something wonderful, a new path for strengthening his soul, his dao and ultimately himself.
Below, a wide, clear path had been opened up, a corridor of empty earth stretching from the edge of the encampment directly to the shimmering walls of the capital. No one dared to get close, their fear of being accidentally destroyed by the Grand Elder's displeasure far greater than their fear of their own commanders.
Jian Xuan and Kui descended, their flying sword moving with a slow, regal grace down the newly created path. They flew over the heads of the terrified soldiers, a silent, undeniable display of absolute dominance. As he approached the shimmering, translucent walls of the city's defensive formation, he did not slow down. He could see the terrified, but hopeful, faces of the Queen's soldiers on the walls, but not yet the guild members who were deeper within the city.
He stopped just before the formation, his voice once again booming across the silent battlefield, this time directed at the city itself.
"IS THE QUEEN NOT GOING TO OPEN A PATH FOR THIS ONE?! DO I NEED TO SMASH YOUR PATHETIC FORMATION AND FORCE MY WAY IN?!"
Inside the camp, the princes and their commanders were secretly hoping the Queen would be so foolish as to refuse, to force this terrifying expert to waste his energy on her ancient formation, giving them a moment's respite or a chance to see his methods.
They hoped in her arrogance she would destroy herself.
On the city walls, the young Queen stood, her face pale but her expression resolute. Beside her, her few remaining loyal advisors and generals were in a state of shock.
The Queen's gaze was fixed on the lone figure of Jian Xuan, her mind racing. "So this is the kind of power they wield," she murmured, her voice filled with a mixture of awe and stark realization. "A single Grand Elder can bring an entire army to its knees."
She thought back to the incident with her brother before, she had considered imposing on the Guild in her early days as Queen. A cold shiver ran down her spine. "It was a good thing I never went against them previously."
Her fear quickly began to morph into a desperate, wishful hope. 'If they have a being like this,' she thought, her heart pounding with a new, frantic possibility, 'then what other experts do they command? If I could somehow ally with them… if they could turn this power on my enemies… I could win this war.'
She knew she had no choice. Refusing him would be suicide. But accepting, showing goodwill, might just be the first step towards an alliance that could save her kingdom.
With a low, humming sound, a section of the massive, shimmering dome flickered and dissolved, opening a clear, wide gate directly in front of Jian Xuan. The enemies on the outside did not rush in, no one moved an inch towards the city. This level of discipline in an army so massive would be extremely rare but it was not discipline, it was fear.
Such was the absolute authority of a Soul Formation expert. Jian Xuan had imposed his own, personal truce upon the entire battlefield and to him it felt exhilarating!