Xiao Hei looked down at Shen Wuji, who was kneeling on the shattered stone of the courtyard. His robes were torn, his face drained and twisted by terror. The growth hive that once marked him had been sealed by Xiao Hei's earlier strike. Now he was nothing but a mortal—weak and helpless.
"You are pathetic," Xiao Hei said in a flat voice. "Your position has nothing to do with me. I shall find out by myself why you scatter those pills and spirit stones, tainted with the void eater aura."
He expelled the suffocating breath that had hung in the air. The other disciples and elders of the Purple Moon Pavilion stammered as the pressure eased; their limbs felt lighter but fear lingered. Nearby, the ancestor Feng Tianlan stayed on his knees, his altered body still in pain. Sect Master Feng and Elder Bai stood silently, and the handful of disciples who had not fled lingered at the edges.
Xiao Hei approached Shen Wuji slowly. The prince tried to crawl back, but his limbs trembled uncontrollably. "Keep away," Shen Wuji whimpered. "You are not aware who you are dealing with. My family—"
Xiao Hei ignored him and laid a hand on Shen Wuji's head. The prince hesitated, then tried to resist. He grabbed Xiao Hei's arm and tried to drag him away, but he was helpless—now merely human, his qi easily contained. "No! Get off me!" Shen Wuji screamed, twisting on the ground. He could not move the hand; his face flushed from the effort.
The Purple Moon Pavilion members watched in horror. Some disciples crossed their arms; others shut their eyes. "What a monster he is," one murmured. Elder Bai mumbled a prayer, hands trembling. They had never seen such brutality—the prince's mind being ripped apart—and they could do nothing.
After several minutes Xiao Hei withdrew his hand. Shen Wuji collapsed, twitching, eyes vacant. Drool leaked from his mouth—alive, but his mind shattered; he had been reduced to a vegetable.
Xiao Hei paused to digest what he had learned. Shen Wuji had been acting under the command of a family in the Fifth Realm. His elder brothers—the first and second princes—were doing the same in other lower realms. They had been distributing corrupting pills and spirit stones as tests. The vacuum-sucking core within those items gradually eroded a user's life force. Greedy cultivators, tempted by faster qi absorption—two to three times quicker—used them, unaware of the secret cost: each burst of accelerated growth shortened the user's lifespan. One year of cultivation could age the body two or three years; over time it would kill users prematurely and weaken entire realms without them knowing.
The family intended to topple lower realms so they could more easily conquer or govern them later. Shen Wuji did not know the full scope of the plan—only that it belonged to a larger scheme by the Withered Bone Dynasty.
Xiao Hei nodded to himself. He would report this to his master. He was about to contact Zhenwu mentally—
—but before he could, a great rumbling rolled through the sky. A fleet of flying ships descended toward the pavilion, banners snapping—Heavenly Sword Sect, Golden Tiger Sect, Silver Phoenix, and more. This was the coalition that had besieged the Purple Moon Pavilion for months. Thousands of cultivators landed in formation, swords drawn and qi flaring.
The alliance leaders advanced. Old Qin of the Heavenly Sword Sect—the master called out of thirty years' seclusion—raised his hand and signaled his people to hold. Elder Chen of the Golden Tiger Sect, the brutal practitioner of extreme physical methods, pointed at Xiao Hei. "That's him! The black one—he must be their friend! Kill him first!"
"Wait!" Matriarch Su of the Silver Phoenix, the wise leader of her fire-based matriarchal sect, grabbed Elder Chen by the arm. "We don't know yet. Look—the pavilion is ruined. And that man on the ground... we don't recognize him. Who is that foreigner in costly purple robes, gold rings, and a jade pendant? He doesn't seem to belong to this world."
The alliance murmured, bewildered. Scouts had reported chaos, but not this. They had observed for weeks and seen nothing of this man—he was a perfect stranger who had suddenly appeared amid the devastation.
Sect Master Feng stepped into the courtyard before anyone else. His arrogance gone, he looked tired and worn. He raised his hands in the old gesture that once brokered peace between rivals.
Old Qin, Old Su, Old Chen, and Sect Master Feng—voices weary but kindly—said, "By the heavens it was too long. We received you with open arms; I would never betray that trust. Please, sit. Tell me what you've heard."
Elder Chen's lips curled. "Feng Qingshan? Don't play host. We heard everything: the pills, the spirit stones, the cursed trinkets passed off as gifts. How could a sect master of your rank fall into such heresy? Are you trying to murder us with presents?"
Old Qin's eyes hardened. "It smells of treachery. Once a respectable sect sells death. Give us an account, Feng—spare us the ceremony."
Matriarch Su tightened her grip on her sword hilt. "We expected better. You are either complicit or have strayed into darkness. In any case, this pavilion threatens every sect on the borders."
Sadness flickered across Sect Master Feng's face. He sank to one knee, humble and exhausted. "Do you think I would poison our allies? Trust me—there is something you do not know. We were threatened."
The ancestor Feng Tianlan, who had been kneeling and breathing shallowly, forced himself to his feet. His voice cracked but gained strength as he approached the gathered leaders.
"Listen to me—I am old, and my body still bears the mark of that night," Feng Tianlan said with effort. "A Fifth Realm prince came with threats and violence. Shen Wuji, the Third Prince of the Withered Bone Dynasty, demanded our cooperation. He kept us on the brink of destruction: agree and our sect survives; refuse and we are wiped out."
His shame and anger warred in his voice as he continued. "We burned his offers. He brought men and terror. In the end we surrendered, terrified for our disciples. The stones and pills were kept under guard. We never intended them to poison— we were coerced."
Matriarch Su studied his face. "Coerced? What evidence do you have, old Feng?"
Feng Tianlan pointed, weakly, to the broken figure on the ground—the prince. "The man you see who felled him beat Shen Wuji. He tore the prince's mind apart and learned the truth. He saved us."
Elder Chen, though shaken, stayed alert. "If that is true, this goes beyond a prince's petty games. But we are not fools," he spat. "Senior Feng—are you lying? Is this a ruse—"
"Hold, Matriarch Su," someone called for calm. "There is blood and ruin here, and a man's life has been ruined. We should listen until we have more. Sect Master Feng, if you speak the truth, you will help us excavate every stained pill and stone. You will open your treasure hoard. No more secrets."
Sect Master Feng bowed, voice small but resolute. "You have my word. We will surrender every batch, every book. We will stand with the alliance to root out this poison. To prove it—I will answer any question. We are ashamed, but not traitors."