After the purge, the Heavenly Demon Sect had finally found peace.
But peace didn't mean safety.
While the new sect had elite members, there were still too few.
Many had just started learning.
Most of the old cultivation scrolls were gone, destroyed in the rebellion or hoarded by dead elders.
Mo Tianheng stood at the edge of the cliff, arms crossed, looking down at the valley below.
Savage winds blew against his coat, but he didn't move.
One of his disciples, a tall boy with sharp eyes, approached.
"Master," he said.
"Our brothers are strong, but… our techniques don't match the battles ahead. We don't have enough arts."
Mo Tianheng nodded slowly. "I know."
He turned around and walked back toward the great hall.
That night, as the fire flickered behind him, he gathered his inner circle.
"There's only one way forward," Mo Tianheng said.
"If we don't have enough techniques… then I'll create new ones."
The room went silent.
