The four elders, and their sect master, exited the main hall in formation, and their combined pressure created enough waves to help their disciples take a breath. However, they realized that even in formation they felt like ants against a dragon.
Elder Shen pointed his finger at Xiao Hei. "You monster! You have the audacity to kill our brother unprovoked!? You understand what you—"
"Unprovoked?" Xiao Hei's voice cut eerily calm through their interjection. His expression did not change, as he still looked bored. "Your existence is provocation enough."
Elder Qiu stepped up and acted as the mediator. "Well senior, I'm sure there has been a misunderstanding here. If Elder Mo has offended you in any manner, I'm sure we could work something out regarding pay or recompensation—"
"Recompensation?" Xiao Hei raised an eyebrow. "There is no recompensation for what you've caused."
He slowly landed and stood on the same level as the elders, his heavy black aura making the air dance and flutter around him.
"I'm going to ask this once, and only once. Give me details about the disgusting purple aura that you have been mixing into your spirit stones and pills. Explain where it is coming from, who coined it for you to distribute, and why it was requested. "
The elders instinctively leaned back, even Elder Bai stuttered. "W-what purple aura, senior we do not know what you are talking about. Our pills are perfectly normal-"
"Incorrect."
Xiao Hei raised up five fingers. "Five seconds. Every five seconds you waste lying to me, one of you dies."
Elder Shen's face blushed with anger. "You arrogant dog! You think you can threaten the Purple Moon Pavilion and-"
The word "dog" had just left his lips when Xiao Hei flicked his finger. Instead of making a clean explosion, Elder Shen was made into chopped meat paste that splattered everywhere in the courtyard like grotesque paint.
"Watch your tongue when you speak to me," Xiao Hei said calmly, wiping blood from his fingers. "I don't like being called names by insects."
The remaining disciples who saw this started screaming and taking flight in all directions. Even those inner disciples, who were supposed to be trained to meet their death with courage, threw all dignity away and fled.
Sect Master Feng hastened forward, and bowed down. "Senior! Forgive our ignorance, please! Will you give this poor junior time to talk to you. No more bloodshed is necessary.
Xiao Hei looked at him in slight interest. "Better. Well, I cannot do protracted discussions. I must go back to play with my master's little princess.
The master of the sect was rushing onward with his thoughts. My master's little princess? And this dreadful monster... hath a master? There is someone even more powerful than this beast? What creature would be able to control such a terrifying creature?
"Of course, Senior. We could not even think of depriving you of your loved ones. Can you please tell us what exactly you want to know, and we will give it to you at once.
Sect Master Feng stood with bowed head, moisture appearing at his temples, yet though chilly the night was pleasant. He forced his voice steady:
Senior, this can be solved by words. There is no need for… more."
The eyes of Xiao Hei were two sunken stones dragged out of a river.
Seconds stretched. The elders did not dare to breathe too loud.
Finally Feng drew himself up, his hands clenched together. He had talked reverently, had lowered his voice, had even swallowed some of his pride before his disciples--but the black figure returned nothing. Not a nod, not a twitch. Only the mass of silence and the eyes, as though he already had settled all of their deaths.
Feng's jaw tightened. "If there is no trust, then…" Let the breath scratch his throat, he inhaled, then there is one way left.
The other elders fidgeted a little, but they made no protest. They all were fully aware that the words were approaching, had feared them, but were also thoroughly warmed up to the moment.
Feng raised both arms high. "Turn on the Silent Vortex Net!"
Suddenly dozens of followers in the compound started to rush into prepared positions. The terror they had assailed themselves with was substituted by sunken instinct. Silver lines of the magic light thinned into the air, linking the talisman to the talisman set in the ground, the wall and the peaks that rose around the mountain. Within seconds a lattice of shifting light, as pale as a zither, was enveloping the Pavilion like a tight bandage.
The older ones were more erect, and their shoulders were no longer stooped with fear. Elder Qiu gave a narrow, nervous laugh. This structure was created by three generations of our forefathers. It does not falter."
Even our ancestor who fled away and shut himself up confessed that he could not do it by himself, said Elder Bai, trembling with a hoarse voice.
The fibers of the Silent Vortex Net grew fatter, and traversing and crossing one another into pressure spirals. Strange bending of air, and shivering disciples below, with hair standing on end.
Sect Master Feng put his feet into the middle of the courtyard, where the formation met, and his voice turned iron. Whether you are a senior or not, you bear the burden of the Purple Moon Pavilion itself. I will not allow a monster such as you can eat us up whole. Not with this net of our blood, our land, and our ancestors!
The elder men were chanting the incantation behind him. Their voices shook together like a peddler's pocket watch--one of them broke with the years, the other hurried his words, one almost sang his line like a crippled bard--but as one they lifted their force to the lattice above.
The courtyard grew dark as though night had become darkness itself, and the only light the white spirals that wound about Xiao Hei like a star-whirlpool.
Xiao Hei tossed his head--not respectfully, but as though one might toss it at a slight, curious sound--the first time he had turned his head since he had arrived.
Man, the Silent Vortex Net practically throbbed—like it wasn't just a trap, but some freaky, living beast. Silver filaments closed in on Xiao Hei, tighter and tighter, every time the old-timers sucked in a breath. This wasn't just any formation. Nah, this was the family heirloom, the magnum opus. Three generations breaking their backs, bleeding into the mountain rock, chucking spirit stones at it like coins in a bottomless wishing well. All that, and a whole lot of last-ditch, please-don't-let-us-die hope poured in.
Honestly? That thing should've steamrolled him.
Sect Master Feng stood there, eyes fixed on the guy in black, watching those threads snake around him. Each one was built to drain you dry—energy, will, whatever you had left. Once upon a time, this same net had locked up the founder's little bro for over two weeks. Left him a pile of bones and bad choices. For any normal cultivator—hell, even a Golden Core badass—it'd be game over. Death by a thousand shiny, silver paper cuts.