The alarm gong sounded through the Luo compound, a harsh, brazen note that shattered the uneasy quiet of the night. It was not a sound of panic, but a call to arms, a summoning of the pack. Clansmen who had been sleeping or cultivating immediately snapped to attention, grabbing their weapons and forming up in the main courtyard with a discipline that would have been unimaginable weeks before. Their eyes, however, were not on the gates; they were fixed on the figure standing alone in the center of the yard, his face tilted towards the starry sky.
Luo Zhen felt it—a pressure descending from the heavens, sharp and relentless as a falling blade. The aura was potent, a focused beam of righteous anger and metallic killing intent. This was no freshly advanced disciple. This was a veteran of the Foundation Establishment realm, likely at the fourth or fifth level, a master of the sword who had honed his power over decades.
A smile, thin and cruel, touched Luo Zhen's lips. Perfect.
From the sky, a figure descended on a glowing longsword, a testament to the user's profound mastery over spiritual flight. He landed just inside the main gate, which had been left open in a silent, mocking invitation. The impact of his landing didn't crack the flagstones; his control was too perfect for that.
The man was in his prime, with stern, handsome features and hair tied back in a severe topknot. He wore the blue and white robes of the Iron Sword Sect, but of a finer cut and material, edged with silver thread. A long, sheathed sword was strapped to his back. His eyes, cold and grey as polished steel, swept the courtyard, taking in the assembled Luo clansmen with utter contempt before locking onto Luo Zhen.
"I am Elder Bai of the Iron Sword Sect," his voice rang out, clear and cutting, imbued with spiritual energy that made the weaker clansmen flinch. "The one who calls himself Luo Zhen. Step forward and accept judgment for the murder of Iron Sword disciples and the crippling of Senior Brother Leng Feng."
The air grew heavy. The clansmen gripped their weapons tighter, but they held their ground, their faith in their master a shield against the Elder's oppressive aura.
Luo Zhen took a single, languid step forward. "Judgment?" he echoed, his voice a calm counterpoint to Bai's sharpness. "You come to my home, uninvited, and speak of judgment? You are not a judge. You are merely the next delivery of nourishment."
Elder Bai's eyes narrowed, a flicker of surprise and then cold fury within them. The arrogance of this youth was staggering. He could sense the demonic cultivation, a foul, oily darkness that stained the spiritual energy around him, but the boy was only at the second level of Foundation Establishment! He should be trembling in fear!
"Arrogant demon!" Bai spat. "Your heresy ends tonight. I will carve the truth from your flesh and bring your head back to the sect!"
He didn't draw the sword on his back. Instead, he raised his hand, index and middle fingers extended. "Sword Finger Projection: Thousand Silver Needles!"
The air in front of his fingers shimmered. Dozens of sharp, condensed needles of silver sword light materialized and shot towards Luo Zhen with a sound like tearing silk. It was a high-level technique, designed to pierce through defenses and cripple an opponent's meridians.
Luo Zhen didn't dodge. He didn't block. He simply stood there.
The silver needles hit his chest and abdomen... and vanished, absorbed into his body like rain into parched earth. A faint, satisfied sigh escaped his lips. The energy was pure, sharp, and delicious.
Elder Bai's composure finally broke. "What?! How?!"
"My turn," Luo Zhen said softly.
He moved. It was the same blinding speed he had used against Leng Feng, but magnified tenfold by his advancement to the second level. He appeared directly in front of Elder Bai, his hand already shooting out for the man's dantian.
Elder Bai was no Leng Feng. His combat experience was vast. Reacting on pure instinct, he brought his arms up in a cross-block, his spiritual energy flaring into a solid, silvery shield. "Iron Sword Absolute Defense!"
Luo Zhen's demonic claw struck the shield.
BOOM!
A shockwave of force exploded outwards, knocking several Luo clansmen off their feet. The silvery shield held, but cracks spiderwebbed across its surface from the point of impact. Elder Bai was forced back a step, his boots grinding grooves into the stone floor, his face a mask of stunned disbelief. The power behind that simple palm strike was monstrous!
"Heretical strength!" Bai roared, finally realizing he could not take this opponent lightly. He reached over his shoulder and drew the sword from his back. The blade was a masterpiece of spirit forging, glowing with a soft, moon-like light. "Face the might of a true swordsman! Moonfall Silverslash!"
He swung the sword. A crescent arc of devastating silver energy, wide enough to cleave the entire main hall in two, screamed towards Luo Zhen. The sheer cutting intent behind it was enough to freeze the blood of the onlookers.
This was not a technique Luo Zhen could simply absorb. The energy was too vast, too concentrated.
So, he didn't try.
For the first time, he employed a technique of his own. He didn't name it; such theatrics were beneath him. Black demonic energy erupted from him, not as a shield, but as a massive, clawed hand—a scaled, shadowy manifestation of the Heavenly Demon's wrath.
The demonic claw met the silver crescent.
The sound was cataclysmic. Light and darkness warred for a moment before erupting in a deafening explosion that blew the tiles off the rooftops and sent clansmen diving for cover. The shockwave rattled the entire compound.
When the dust cleared, both men were still standing. But Elder Bai was breathing heavily, his expression grim. His ultimate technique had been neutralized.
"Impossible..." he whispered, a thread of real fear finally entering his voice. This was no ordinary demonic cultivator. This was something ancient and vile.
"You rely on your sword, on your techniques, on the approval of your sect," Luo Zhen said, advancing slowly. The demonic claw dissipated around him. "You are a prisoner of orthodoxy. I am bound by nothing. My power is my own, taken from the world as I see fit."
He began to circle Elder Bai, a predator cornering prey. "Your energy is sharp. Refined. It will be a fine vintage."
Elder Bai attacked again, a flurry of sword strikes that could each bisect a mountain. Silver light filled the courtyard. Luo Zhen weaved through them, his movements impossibly fluid, his body phasing through the most lethal strikes. He was a ghost, a phantom of darkness. He didn't counter-attack; he observed, learned, and waited.
The Luo clansmen watched, their hearts in their throats. This was a battle of gods compared to their skirmish at the mine.
Su Mei'er watched from the doorway of a side hall, her hand clamped over Feng Lian's mouth to keep her from screaming. She saw the effortless way Luo Zhen handled the immensely powerful Elder. She saw the cold, analytical look in his eyes. He wasn't fighting to survive; he was studying. The Art of the Sorrowing Veil within her stirred, responding to the intense fear and awe in the air, drinking it in.
Elder Bai grew desperate. His spiritual energy was depleting rapidly from unleashing such powerful techniques, while his opponent seemed... refreshed. It was as if he was being drained just by being near him.
"Enough!" Bai screamed, leaping back. He placed his left hand on his sword's blade, drawing a line of blood. "I sacrifice my blood to summon the true sword spirit! Ancestral Sword: Heaven's Judgment!"
The spirit sword glowed with an incandescent white light, a sacred, purifying energy that made the demonic energy around Luo Zhen hiss and recoil. This was a technique designed specifically to eradicate evil. Bai thrust the sword forward, and a beam of pure, righteous judgment, capable of purging demonic souls, shot towards Luo Zhen.
This was the moment Luo Zhen had been waiting for. The ultimate technique. The peak of the opponent's power.
He didn't try to absorb it. He didn't try to dodge it.
He opened his arms wide, as if to embrace it.
The beam of Heaven's Judgment struck him square in the chest.
Elder Bai allowed himself a triumphant smile. It was over! No demon could survive that!
But the smile died as the light cleared.
Luo Zhen was still standing. Smoke rose from his chest, and his robes were scorched, but his eyes were burning with a dark, triumphant fire. The purifying energy had been... immense. Agonizing. But his Demonic Foundation, born of a Sovereign's soul, was far beyond the purview of a mere Elder's "Heaven's Judgment." It had weathered the storm.
And in doing so, it had revealed the technique's complete energy pattern to his demonic senses.
"An interesting trick," Luo Zhen said, his voice a low growl. "But flawed. You leave your dantian completely exposed in the final moment of release, pouring everything into the attack. A fatal error."
Before Elder Bai could process the horror of his technique failing, Luo Zhen moved.
He was a blur of darkness. He bypassed the still-gleaming sword entirely and appeared directly in front of the stunned Elder. His hand, wreathed in the black smoke of the Nine Profound Heavens Demonic Art, plunged into Bai's chest, not to pierce his heart, but to sink into his dantian.
Elder Bai's scream was not of physical pain, but of utter, soul-rending violation. He felt it—his lifelong cultivation, his proud Foundation Establishment core, the very essence of his being—being torn out by the roots. It was being devoured by an endless, hungry void. The light of his spirit sword flickered and died.
The process was slower than with the others, the energy vast and resistant. Luo Zhen stood there, his hand buried in the elder's chest, as the man's powerful body shuddered and convulsed. His hair whitened, his skin lost its luster, his muscles atrophyed. The mighty Elder Bai, fourth level of Foundation Establishment, was being reduced to a withered husk.
The Luo clansmen watched in terrified silence. This was not a battle; it was an execution. A consumption.
When it was over, Luo Zhen withdrew his hand. Elder Bai collapsed into a pile of bones and loose robes, his body unable to even maintain its structure after such total depletion. All that remained was his spirit sword, which clattered to the ground, its glow extinguished.
Luo Zhen closed his eyes. The influx of energy was titanic. It was like swallowing a sun. His Demonic Foundation swelled, the energy raging through him, breaking through barriers with explosive force.
Foundation Establishment, Third Level!
Fourth Level!
The power stabilized at the peak of the fourth level. He had advanced two full levels from a single meal. The courtyard trembled with the pressure of his newfound power.
He opened his eyes, and they blazed with crimson light. He looked at his terrified, awe-struck clansmen.
"See?" he said, his voice echoing with newfound power. "This is the reward of ambition. This is the fruit of strength. The strong devour the weak. And we... we will devour the world."
He pointed to the spirit sword on the ground. "Luo Cheng. Have that melted down and reforged. Its purity has been tainted. It will make a fine dagger for my attendant."
He then turned his gaze towards the distant mountains where the Iron Sword Sect resided. He had just consumed one of their Elders. Their response would be absolute. They would send everything they had.
Luo Zhen's smile returned, wider and more terrifying than ever.
"Let them come."