The fog of the marsh clung to their robes as over eight hundred disciples of the former Marsh Veil Sect began their solemn march toward Tianmo Pavilion. The air was heavy with dread and silence, save for the shuffle of feet along the soaked wooden bridges and mossy stone paths.

  Yù Wēnshào led at the front, his head held high but his eyes shadowed with defeat. The elders followed close behind, their expressions grim. Though they carried no chains, every step felt like they were walking under the weight of invisible shackles shackles forged not of iron, but of absolute submission.

  The Soul Destroying Seal burned faintly on each disciple’s body, a reminder of their new fate. None dared speak of rebellion. The monstrous pressure that Lù Tiān had displayed lingered in their bones. Even the proudest among them, disciples who had once looked down on lesser sects, now kept their heads lowered and eyes averted.

  Their journey took them east, crossing through forested lowlands and winding ridgelines. The terrain gradually shifted from the mist-shrouded marsh to clearer air and stone paths bathed in morning light.

  Many among them had never left the swampy bounds of their homeland. Now, they traveled as one a defeated sect with no banner, no name, and no pride.

  Days passed.

  They neared the mountain range where the Misty Cloud Gate once stood. Now it was something else.

  As they approached, the outline of Tianmo Pavilion came into view. Its black and violet banners fluttered on the mountain breeze. The once-crumbling structures had been restored with an ominous beauty stark, elegant, and imposing.

  Disciples of the pavilion moved like shadows across courtyards and stairways, their formations neat, their movements precise. Though only a hundred in number, the sheer order and discipline of the Tianmo Pavilion dwarfed that of the broken sect approaching.

  When they reached the towering black gates of Tianmo Pavilion, Yù Wēnshào stepped forward, his voice ringing out through the mountain air.

  "First Tianzun! We have come by the order of Pavilion Master Lù Tiān!"

  There was silence for a moment, until ripples of Qi shimmered across the entrance. Moments later, the gates creaked open slowly, and Yán Qīngshēng emerged, draped in flowing silver-blue robes, his long white hair tied behind him. Despite the clear signs of recent seclusion, his gaze was sharp and composed.

  His gaze swept over the crowd before resting on the faint seals glowing across each disciple’s body.

  His brow furrowed slightly. "Who are you?"

  Yù Wēnshào stepped forward and bowed deeply. "I am Yù Wēnshào, former Sect Master of the Marsh Veil Sect. Pavilion Master Lù Tiān has dissolved our sect and commanded us to report here. From this day on, we are disciples of Tianmo Pavilion."

  Yán Qīngshēng nodded slightly, his voice firm but not unkind. As he turned to lead them inside, a thought flickered in his mind, sharp and uneasy.

  Pavilion Master... what are you planning?

  "Then enter. From this day on, your past is gone. You will be judged not by where you came from, but by your strength and your obedience."

  The disciples filed in, one after another, stepping through the threshold of their new life.

  The gates of Tianmo Pavilion closed behind them.

  Meanwhile...

  Far to the east, atop a jagged ridge overlooking the now-quiet marshlands, Lù Tiān stood alone beneath the pale light of dawn. His black robe with its deep violet trim fluttered gently in the wind, the blood-red mist around him long faded but not forgotten.

  His crimson eyes scanned the horizon, calm but watchful.

  For days, he had remained near the edges of the Fogbound Marshes, not to observe the disciples their loyalty was guaranteed by the seal but to wait. To wait for a sign. A ripple. Anything.

  He raised his hand slowly, palm open, and channeled a thread of Qi into the eighth soul-sealing nail embedded in his body. The pain was immediate, white-hot and consuming, but he endured it as he had every night since arriving in the mortal world.

  Nothing.

  No shift. No crack. No weakness.

  His brow furrowed. Still too early, he thought. I need more power. More Qi. More bloodline stimulation.

  Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

  He exhaled slowly, the breath misting in the cold air.

  Time to move again.

  He narrowed his eyes toward the mist-shrouded horizon. Maybe if I can find a demonic beast with a strong bloodline... I may be able to release the next seal.

  He began walking north, though it could hardly be called walking. At the Early Nascent Soul stage, one could begin to manipulate space itself. With each step, the world around Lù Tiān bent subtly, as though distance meant little to him. At the peak of Nascent Soul, one could freely control spatial folds teleportation became not a skill, but a natural law to command.

  For now, his pace was steady, effortless, and terrifyingly efficient. With every step, he drew closer to the heart of the wild lands where beasts of ancient bloodlines were rumored to roam. As he moved through the untamed wilderness, the landscape shifted around him with primal beauty and danger. The marshes behind him gave way to vast, shadowed valleys filled with towering black pines that whispered in the wind. The sky above was often shrouded in clouds, casting the terrain in a dim, perpetual twilight. Ancient stones jutted from the ground like the bones of giants, and distant roars echoed from unseen ravines. Mist clung low to the ground, and the air smelled of wet earth and spirit herbs. Strange, glowing flora bloomed in patches some pulsing with faint spiritual energy, others exuding quiet malevolence.

  As days turned to weeks of walking, he finally found a beast.

  It was a Celestial Beast low in rank, but with a potent demonic bloodline. It was known as a Crimson Horned Fenwyrm, a rare and ancient serpent-like creature said to have descended from the dragons of the outer realms. Its hide shimmered with dark crimson scales, and its eyes glowed with an ancient ferocity. Though not a threat to Lù Tiān, the beast’s lineage pulsed with potential, its essence thick with raw, inherited might. It prowled through a ravine overgrown with gnarled trees, unaware that it had become the target of a predator far more terrifying than itself.

  Lù Tiān watched the beast silently, analyzing the ebb and flow of its Qi. As if sensing his gaze, the Crimson Horned Fenwyrm suddenly froze. A low, guttural hiss escaped its throat, and without warning, it lunged forward, scales flashing and claws bared, as it launched itself at Lù Tiān in a burst of primal aggression.

  Lù Tiān didn’t dodge.

  Instead, he confronted the beast head-on. With a flick of his wrist, he deflected the incoming strike, his crimson Qi flaring briefly as he met fang and claw with nothing but a calm, cold gaze. Rather than striking back with lethal force, he began to play with it dodging its charges by mere inches, countering its blows with casual flicks of his fingers. Each motion was precise, measured, and almost mocking.

  The Fenwyrm snarled and twisted, baring its fangs in frustration as its demonic instincts pushed it to lash out harder. But no matter how it struck, it found nothing but air and impenetrable Qi.

  Lù Tiān circled the beast like a predator testing a new blade.

  "Not bad," he murmured to himself. "You may prove useful after all."

  This little game drew a faint smile to Lù Tiān’s lips. But it lasted only a moment.

  His eyes narrowed, and in that instant, his entire demeanor changed. The casual grace vanished, replaced by something darker, colder. He had played long enough.

  He raised his right hand, crimson Qi surging violently to form a blade of pure spiritual energy. His eyes glowed an eerie red, and his long white hair fluttered unrestrained around him.

  "Demonshadow Execution."

  In an instant, the sword tore through the air in a blinding arc, a crescent slash of energy erupting forward with devastating force.

  The strike met the Fenwyrm mid-lunge. In an instant, the beast was sliced into hundreds of tiny pieces, its crimson blood spraying into the air like mist. The spray caught Lù Tiān across the face, dripping slowly down his cheek. He stood still as the remains of the beast scattered around him, the blood steaming in the cold mountain air. His expression was unreadable calm, detached.

  He extended his hand, drawing the beast's core toward him with a wave of crimson Qi. As the core floated into his palm, Lù Tiān's eyes narrowed in surprise. The demonic Qi within it was far stronger than he had anticipated dense, ancient, and pulsing with latent wrath. The sheer concentration of power within the bloodline caused a subtle tremble in the air around him.

  "So this is your true value," he murmured, turning the glowing core slowly in his hand. "This might just be enough."

  With that, Lù Tiān turned, his robe flickering behind him like a shadow in the wind. His long white hair flowed unrestrained down his back, catching the ambient spiritual wind as if alive with power. He began making his way back toward Tianmo Pavilion, each step closing vast distances with spatial manipulation that blurred the line between walking and flying. The crimson core pulsed faintly in his hand as if resonating with the intent now blazing behind his eyes.

  By the time Lù Tiān approached the gates of Tianmo Pavilion, the sun had begun its descent, casting long shadows across the peaks in hues of gold and crimson. The twilight air was crisp, and the sky above was streaked with pale fire. As he neared, he was greeted by Yán Qīngshēng and Yù Wēnshào, both standing with respectful postures. The five elders of the former Marsh Veil Sect flanked Yù Wēnshào, their eyes filled with tension and reverence. Yán’s silver-blue robes fluttered in the wind, his presence calm yet vigilant as he offered a bow.

  "Pavilion Master," he greeted solemnly.

  Lù Tiān’s gaze shifted to Yù Wēnshào and the elders. His voice was calm but edged with steel.

  "I'm not unreasonable," he said. "Serve me well, and your cultivation will soar to heights you never dreamed of. Loyalty will be rewarded disobedience will not be forgiven."

  The elders exchanged glances. Yù Wēnshào stepped forward and cupped his fists.

  "Yes, Pavilion Master. We will serve faithfully. Your will is our command."

  Behind them, the elders echoed his words in near unison. Though fear lingered in their eyes, it was now laced with a flicker of ambition.

  After speaking to the elders, Lù Tiān said nothing more. He turned and, with a few effortless steps, ascended to the tallest peak within the Pavilion grounds. There, overlooking the entirety of Tianmo Pavilion, he sat in the lotus position upon a jagged stone platform. The wind whispered around him, tugging at his long white hair and robes, while the fading sun cast deep shadows across the cliffs.

  The mountain air was crisp, and the sky had turned a dark indigo, scattered with the first stars of nightfall. High above the world, Lù Tiān began to circulate his Qi, focusing once again on the seal that bound him. The faint glimmer of determination burned in his crimson eyes.