The night before,
Far away from the Divine Celestial Sect, under a pavilion carved out of white stone, twelve figures sat in silence.
At the head of the table was the representative of the Heaven Sun Empire. Beside him, dressed in imperial robes, was the Second Prince himself. His presence alone made the meeting abnormal.
Thus this meeting can't be a mere discussion, but a verdict.
"The Divine Celestial Sect has grown too fast than we have expected."
A voice suddenly cut the silence.
The unknown figure that came down into the silence was not some elder or captain.
It was Son Jin.
Sect Master of the White Everlast Sect.
The very air seemed to grow cold and freeze in his presence.
His skin was not merely pale, to be honest it was the color of mountain frost at dawn, an unnatural marble sheen that spoke of deep, cold cultivation. From that frost-sculpted face, two eyes the color of a winter lake shone, cold and empty of all warmth. His hair is a waterfall of snow-white, flowed down his back. It framed a face so beautifully chiseled like a statue of a young God.
Not only that, Son Jin was just 29 years old and he has already achieved feats that are way above his age. Indeed he is a genius that can only be found in a century. He is the first to become the Sect Master at such a young age surpassing his father.
A cold smile played on Son Jin's lips,
"Disciples," he began, his voice being deceivingly soft,
"are deserting their ancestral sects like rats abandoning a sinking ship. Resources, tribute, trade routes... all now flow in one, and only one, direction." He paused, his eyes raking the room, resting on each face present there.
"The reputation of one man—the 'Celestial Demon' Zhan Lim—serves as a maw, drawing the very best of Jianghu talents to his mountain. A curious thing, is it not?"
He took a small sip of his tea.
"Of course," he continued, "My White Everlast disciples have the truest loyalty. Their roots run deep in the permafrost. They would never be so... fickle. I merely point out this observation for your benefit, honorable colleagues."
It was a perfectly thrown dagger at their heads.
The provocation hanging in the air tensed the entire Grand Twelve.
Around the table, faces hardened, cups were carefully set down, and the collective Chi in the room cooled several degrees.
Son Jin continued.
"More importantly, they stand alone. No alliances. No imperial backing. A sect like that…"
Son Jin's lips curved. It was not a smile.
"…is suspicious."
Murmurs and whispers filled the pavilion.
Thud!
Another Sect Leader banged his palm on the table. "Suspicion is not proof! Jianghu has its code. We do not destroy sects on rumor and doubts."
He was of Iron Soul Sect and had a face with a huge body both etched in scars proving the fierce nature he beholds.
Another nodded grimly.
"If we open this door, tomorrow it may be our sect that is deemed suspicious. Son Jin! you are inexperienced as a Sect Leader. Don't think being a genius makes you any better. Experience matters in making such wild decisions."
Son Jin smirked, and turned his eye towards the Second prince.
The Second Prince finally spoke.
His voice was soft and cold. Yet his face defined elegance.
"'The Empire has tolerated the Divine Celestial Sect for decades.'"
He raised his cold red eyes.
"But tolerance has limits."
Silence!
"One that is not under imperial control, and which expands at such a rate… will ultimately defy imperial rule."
The threat was clear.
Resistance faltered.
Son Jin looked around the table.
"Zhan Lim is nicknamed the Celestial Demon," he said. "If he becomes any more powerful, who among us will be able to oppose him?"
There was no response.
The decision was already made. The destruction of Divine Celestial Sect.
***
That same night, a lone figure hovered before the mountain of the Divine Celestial Sect.
Son Jin stood on his sword, his clothes fluttering wildly in the strong wind. His eyes scanned the empty space before him, tracing lines only he could see.
The Divine Celestial Barrier.
Or what was left of it.
"...Holes? keke."
His eyes narrowed.
The barrier's energy current was disrupted. Gaps pulsed like a diseased heart.
"This wasn't destroyed from the outside," he whispered to himself. "It disintegrated from the inside."
A chill crept up his spine.
No formation expert would allow this to happen.
Unless they couldn't control it.
Son Jin extended a hand and touched the invisible wall.
The barrier shook.
It didn't show resistance as it was barely holding on.
His breath hitched.
Just then, a talisman in his sleeve turned to ash. A message flashed in his mind.
"Zhan Lim is seriously ill.
His Shi is in revolt within him.
He coughs up blood in secret."
It was from the spy he implanted in the Celestial Sect.
Son Jin gazed into the darkness.
Then he laughed, clenching his fists.
"HAHA! Zhan Lim you are doomed."
A soft, muffled sound that contained no happiness, only cold victory.
"Ha.. how interesting even heaven," he said, "is on my side."
He turned his sword away from the mountain.
By dawn, blood would stain these mountains crimson.
***
Present day morning.
The sky over the Divine Celestial Sect tore apart.
Not with noise, but with silence—a lack of pressure that sucked the air from every disciple's lungs. Then, from the rent in the clouds, giant cranes swooped down like mountains from the sky. Sword lights—hundreds of them—etched the sky, paths of killing intent staining the dawn crimson.
Disciples shrieked.
Formation bells shattered in mid-chime.
Before the first scream could end—
Slaughter started.
Blades fell like rain. Elders bellowed, bursting from meditation rooms, their formations igniting to life—only to falter and shatter miserably, already tainted from within.
From the bottommost pavilion, a figure burst into the sky.
It was Zhan Lim.
His hair flowed like a banner of defiance. Fresh blood stained his chin, a stark contrast to his pale complexion. But his back was a steel rod. His eyes were two suns of absolute purple fury.
"WHO DARES?!"
His voice was a roar which caused a quake that even shook the invader's swords.
From the topmost crane, Son Jin stepped out onto thin air. Eleven sect masters spread out behind him, like a solid wall.
He flicked his wrist.
A scroll of imperial yellow burst forth, unrolling as it fell. An eradication decree. The characters burned with finality.
Zhan Lim caught it from the air. The scroll vibrated in his hand, no it was not because of the fear, but with a fury so intense that the air around him seemed to buckle.
His jaw tightened.
"This," he said, each word was like a pierce, "is not justice. It is cowardice. You would reduce the code of Jianghu to ashes?"
Son Jin smirked.
"Rules," he said, "are for those who need them."
Zhan Lim's hand slashed downward.
"Elders! Defend your home!"
They answered. Not by shouting or anything but with the will to burn their entire cultivation if it needs. They shot skyward, becoming blurs of light and fury.
A large aura of blades came towards them at light speed.
And they were cut down.
One by one.
It was impossible to defend it.
The difference between elders and sect masters was clear.
A lifetime of training met a sword that had ended eras. Limbs fell. Cores shattered mid-air, releasing bursts of stolen light. Blood painted the training grounds, the white jade bridges, the serene lotus ponds, in a gruesome new color.
Zhan Lim watched with his eyes trembling as his sect's pillars fall one by one.
The sky itself grew dark with pure hatred.
Amid the chaos, a small boy moved against the tide.
"Get up! GET UP!"
Shiro dragged a senior disciple, his leg half-severed, behind the ruins of the Ancestral Bell. The boy's blue robes were stained crimson. His hands, meant for calligraphy and tea ceremonies, were slick with someone else's life.
"Hold on, I have you—" he choked, the words drowned by the scream of a dying spirit-beast overhead. He never saw
His home, his world, was being dismantled. Not conquered. Dismantled. Stone from stone, life from life.
High above the red mist, Zhan Lim took a single step forward.
BOOM!
His aura ignited.
The pressure was palpable that it could crush the surroundings. The air was filled with crystalline violet light.
Rift Realm. Zenith Stage.
Already at the peak of mortal cultivation.
For the first time, Son Jin's calm mask slipped. His eyes widened ever so slightly.
"So the rumors were true, you're powerful,"
Son Jin admitted, his voice slicing through the divine pressure.
"But not powerful enough when you were at your peak. The Celestial Codex… it consumes its wielder, doesn't it? You've paid for this strength with your own life span."
Zhan Lim froze.
The rage on his face faltered, replaced for one, crushing moment with shock.
"…You know of the Codex?"
Son Jin's winter lake eyes shone with triumph.
"And now," he breathed, his voice carrying to every ear on the battlefield, "I know everything."
Silence!
Screams and cries continued,
Two men stood there each at their peak of emotions.
Any second there will be destruction and blood.
The sun had not yet risen above the eastern peak.
The Divine Celestial Sect's destiny lies on man, Zhan Lim himself.