Three figures were running frantically through the Shattered Sword Plains, a graveyard thick with the lingering resentment of millions of slain souls from a war fought in a forgotten age.
Giant swords lay scattered everywhere, looking like walls and broken formations. This land was so old that only the metal had survived; no corpses, no bodies, no bones, everything else had long since turned to dust and dirt. It was now the last living proof of the war between the Righteous Path and the Demonic Path.
But for her, it was yesterday. The air tasted like rust and old blood, the same as it had back then, a taste she could never forget.
She and her two disciples were moving between the broken rusted remains of the giant swords, running for their lives.
Her first disciple, a man built like a mountain of iron, was breathing hard. His steel-like skin was marred by a dozen deep wounds that leaked a dark, heavy liquid that looked like mercury.
Her second disciple, a young woman slender and sharp like a silver needle, was sweating hard. The storm of silver needles she controlled around them, a formation meant to hide them in the jungle of metal, was shimmering and vibrating badly. It looked like she would not be able to hold it any longer, and it could collapse any second under the pressure of the powerful spiritual senses hunting them.
"Master, they are closing in!" the mountain of a man shouted, his voice deep and low, yet still young like a teenager's.
She heard him and saw the pain and worry in both of their faces. "Not yet," she murmured.
She took a turn as her gown swirled like a weapon with sharp edges all around. It groaned as if it was not made of cloth or fabric but pure metal.
And it was. Her whole body was covered in metal, and yet it was not armor. It was a beautiful high-neck feminine gown in dark purple and red, woven from threads of starsteel, covering her completely.
Her long hair was free yet bound in intricate braids of silver metal, creating a shifting pattern of dark and silver as it flowed around her.
Her face was hidden behind a broken iron mask, cracked and mended with veins of gold. The mask concealed everything, even her eyes, leaving only her full red lips revealing her pale white young skin. The blood red lips, bright and soft under the cracked metal, gave her an air of both young and dangerously seductive.
Both of them followed their Master. She quickly found a corner as she stumbled, letting herself and her disciples catch a breath. Her shoulders slumped with exhaustion, her breathing weak and rattled.
She was a peak expert of the Nascent Soul realm, but she had been hunted across half the continent, without a single moment of rest.
Suddenly the female disciple cried out in sharp pain. A sound like tearing silk echoed against the large rusted metal all around them as the young female disciple's formation of silver needles shattered into a million useless sparks of light and molten slag.
She gasped and staggered back, a trickle of blood drip down from the corner of her lips. She looked up at her master, her eyes were clear.
They are now exposed and open wide. Their location is no longer hidden. And to prove that, dozens of cultivators flew down from every corner.
Wearing immaculate robes of white and gold, and moving with perfect coordination, they surrounded the three of them in an inescapable flawless cage.
Every single one of them had the powerful and suffocating aura of the Nascent Soul realm, and their faces were stern and cruel, filled with righteous conviction.
One person stood out of them, their leader, a middle aged man with a fiery beard as he pointed his trembling finger at the woman in the metal gown.
"Are you the infamous Iron Mother of Murder, Tie Lian?" he sneered with a laugh. "What a letdown. They said it would take us fifty, sixty years to track you down, but in the end it only took thirteen months. Some legend you are. You're not living up to your name at all. The world called you unstoppable, but looking at you now... I almost feel cheated." He drew his blade, his grin sharp. "But the prize money on your head is truly not a small matter so let's end this chase of cat and mouse. What do you say? Iron Mother of Murder."
The woman called out the Iron Mother of Murder, Tie Lian let out a weak, rattling cough that shook her whole frame, indicating how weak she is now. So weak that she do not even have the strength to reply.
Her full red lips, chapped and pale, quivering with weakness.
The commander sneered, his face full of contempt. "I feel pity if this is what the best of demonic path is left after five thousand years?"
"You talk too much," she finally replied in a raspy voice.
The commander's face twisted in fury at the disrespect. He raised his sword and yelled out the order. "Eradicate these last remnants of vile demons!"
But before anyone could act upon that kill order, a serene, powerful voice cut through the commander's order. This voice contained an authority that made his own voice seem like a child's shout.
"Hold."
The Dragon Guard froze at that voice, their killing intent vanished instantly. As one, they turned and bowed deeply in a certain direction.
A young man descended from the sky, not flying but walking on steps of golden light forming beneath his feet as he moved.
Impossibly handsome, with eyes like liquid gold and robes that faintly glowing like they are made of sunlight itself. The pressure he gave off was far more terrible than each Nascent Soul around him.
The Dragon Guards, proud of their Nascent Soul strength, suddenly felt like frogs trapped in a well.