The sky above Dong City had turned crimson.
The ancient Su command sigil, glowing like burning runes etched across the heavens, hovered above the city like an omen. Even the birds that flew too close seemed to scatter in terror. Cultivators across clans halted, faces pale, whispers rising like the wind:
> "The Su Family has issued the Heavenly Blood Command…!"
It had not been used in over a hundred years.
Inside the vast and shadowy halls of the Su ancestral grounds, many members of the Su family stood still, their eyes fixed skyward. Some trembled, others turned to one another in confusion. But all shared the same thought:
> Something catastrophic has happened…
Far away from the family grounds, nestled within a forbidden mountain cave, untouched by time and hidden from even most Su family members, a single man sat cross-legged in a deep state of cultivation. The air around him was unnaturally still, as though nature itself dared not disturb him. He looked like a titan sculpted from war and pain—muscular, broad-shouldered, dressed in black and crimson silk robes threaded with gold. His hair was tied back, falling past his shoulders, and a brutal, jagged scar ran from his left brow down to his jaw.
That scar… was legendary.
He was Su-Bai, elder brother of Su-Shen… the current and true head of the Su family.
A man who had once led armies, walked through oceans of blood, and stood unshaken against demonic generals. Though he had entered seclusion for years, his name was still whispered with both reverence and fear across the cultivation world.
When the sky turned red, Su-Bai's eyes slowly opened. A golden glow flickered in his pupils. His breathing was calm—but the cave itself trembled. Small cracks formed in the rocks around him from the sheer pressure of his spiritual energy awakening.
> "The Heavenly Blood Command…? Su-Shen would never release that lightly…"
A ripple in the air followed—Su-Shen had arrived.
He stood at the mouth of the cave, his long coat fluttering in the wind, blood pressure still boiling around him, but restrained in his brother's presence. For a moment, there was silence. Su-Bai looked at him with eyes that had seen too much. He didn't need to ask. The pain on Su-Shen's face was already speaking.
> "Brother…" Su-Shen finally said, voice grating from hours of fury and grief.
"She's dead. My niece… your favorite."
Su-Bai's brows didn't even twitch. But the air in the cave dropped ten degrees.
> "Who did it?" Su-Bai asked, in a calm voice that made Su-Shen swallow hard.
> "We… don't know. No one saw it clearly. But… Someone or something took her life. And maybe others too. I've sent every man we have."
Su-Bai slowly stood up. As he rose to full height, his presence filled the entire cave. It was like a mountain of iron had taken form. His spiritual aura—long sealed—briefly surged, and even Su-Shen was forced to take a step back, his heartbeat rising.
Then Su-Bai spoke in a cold, low tone:
> "If I return from seclusion, it will not be to search... it will be to bury."
He turned to Su-Shen.
> "Call every core elder. Activate the ancestral guards. Lock the city gates. And tell the other families—Su-Bai walks again."
The wind roared outside. The world would soon feel the tremble of a storm that had not stirred in decades. And for the one who had caused the death of a Su daughter…
Hell had opened its doors.
The announcement spread like wildfire across Dong City:
> Su-Bai has awakened.
From the icy peaks of the Mo Mountains to the glowing markets of Dong City's core, cultivators, elders, spies, and enemies alike paused. The whispers turned to fear, the fear to silence.
Inside the main Su family ancestral hall, carved from ancient obsidian and lit with soul-lanterns that never went out, a solemn air hung heavy. This hall had witnessed centuries of power, war, and legacy—but today, it bore the weight of something else entirely.
Two large ceremonial platforms stood at the center.
On the first lay the body of Su-Liang, Su-Bai's elder son.
On the second was Su-Rina.(Not body, it's a tabut)
Family members stood in straight rows, their heads bowed low. The pressure in the room was suffocating—not from cultivation, but from grief held beneath iron discipline.
At the far end of the hall, the great stone doors opened with a deep groan that echoed like thunder.
And Su-Bai walked in.
Every eye turned to him, but not a single word was spoken. His steps were slow, deliberate. His black robes shimmered faintly with spiritual energy, but his expression was unreadable—like a god of death walking through a graveyard.
He stopped before the bodies.
Silence. Not even a breath.
His gaze scanned his children—what was left of them. He said nothing for a long moment. His fingers gently brushed the blood-stained fabric of his son's robes.
Finally, he spoke.
> "So… my son is dead.
My daughter is dead.
And my youngest returned—barely alive."
He raised his head. His eyes, once ancient and calm, now glowed faintly gold—cold, divine, and bottomless.
> "All of you…" he said, turning slightly to the gathered elders and inner court family members. His voice was soft, but it pierced the room like a blade.
> "All of you—don't know how they died?"
No one dared to answer.
Su-Shen stood nearby, eyes lowered, fists clenched, face shadowed in shame.
> "Not one soul can tell me how my blood was spilled like livestock in a slaughterhouse? No trace? No witness? Not even a whisper of the enemy?"
The soul-lanterns flickered, dimmed, as if reacting to his building fury.
> "This is the power of the Su Family?" Su-Bai whispered, but the tone had changed—it was venom wrapped in disappointment.
> "Our name once shook nations. Now my children die in secret—and the Su Family stands helpless."
He turned his back on the bodies and looked at the doors of the hall.
> "This ends now."
With a flick of his hand, a dark golden token flew from his sleeve. It shot into the air and exploded in a burst of light that lit up the sky above Dong City.
A Heavenly Retribution Order.
> "Anyone with information about the murder of my children shall be rewarded with wealth, status, and protection.
Anyone found to be involved… will beg for death."
He paused. Then, almost to himself, he muttered coldly:
> "And the one who dared touch my blood… I'll carve your name into the earth—so the next thousand generations know what happens when you strike the Su."
Then Su-Bai turned and walked out. The crowd parted silently. His footsteps echoed, and with each one, vengeance thickened in the air like a coming storm.
Inside a secluded healing chamber deep within the heart of the Su Family estate, the air was thick with the scent of herbs and spiritual incense. Moonlight filtered through the ancient jade windows, casting pale blue patterns across the marble floor. On a large bed carved from Spiritwood, Su-Ying, the youngest daughter of the Su Family, lay wrapped in layers of soul-thread bandages. Her skin was pale, lips slightly cracked, and every breath she took sounded like a whisper clinging to life.
The room was guarded by two female cultivators of the Su family's inner court. When they saw Su-Bai approach, they immediately bowed and stepped aside without a word.
Su-Bai entered the chamber alone.
The moment he saw her—his last surviving child—the hard exterior of the mighty patriarch flickered. But only for a moment.
He moved closer, standing beside her bed. He didn't speak immediately. He simply looked at her: her eyes closed, a faint tremble in her hand, her spiritual essence flickering like a candle in the wind. For a man who had led wars, shattered sects, and faced death more times than most could count… this pain was something else.
He finally asked, voice deep, quiet, almost too calm:
> "Tell me… what happened?"
Su-Ying's eyelids fluttered open. Her voice trembled, hoarse and slow, like each word cost her strength she didn't have.
When I and my team were killing the beasts in the battle field, the eldest of the Xun family came. Without thinking anything, he directly attacked me. Then my elder brother came to save me. He and Xun fought and both were badly injured.
then that man came…"
Su-Bai's eyes narrowed. "Which man?"
Tears gathered at the edge of Su-Ying's eyes. She gasped for breath, her body twitching in pain.
"He… had Black hair. Young, but not young. Eyes like he… he had seen the end of the world. He said something… then brother attacked him. But his pressure… it was unnatural. Like a beast. A demon. No… something worse."
She coughed. Blood stained the cloth near her lips.
"He didn't just kill brother. He… crushed him. As if he was nothing."
A sharp breath echoed from the shadows near the door. Su-Shen, who had followed silently, stepped into the room. His fists were shaking.
He crushed… my nephew?" he said slowly, as if repeating it would make it less real. "That bastard. That thing...!"
Su-Ying nodded, tears now running freely.
> "I ran. Brother made me. I shouldn't have—"
> "You did what you had to," Su-Bai interrupted. His tone was still cold, but now it trembled—not with weakness, but with fury buried beneath stone.
> "You lived. And now… he dies."
Su-Bai stood tall, the aura around him beginning to shimmer. The healing herbs in the room trembled, the air thickening with the silent wrath of a man who had lost too much. He turned to Su-Shen.
> "You heard her."
> "I did."
> "Then mobilize everything. Every shadow, every beast tamer, every soul hunter we trained in the forbidden wing. I want the city turned upside down. I want the Black-haired one found. Now."
Su-Shen gave a slow nod, his own expression dark and vengeful.
> "I'll make sure he dies screaming, brother."
Su-Bai didn't respond. His hand lingered over Su-Ying's forehead for just a moment, as soft golden light passed through her body, easing her pain. Then he walked out of the room—the sound of his boots echoed like a war drum.
The storm was no longer coming.
It had already awakened.