"Xue Mo, stop resisting. Surrender the Blood Deity Art and we will grant you a swift end!"
"Your insatiable greed has slain millions. Your sins are beyond redemption. This is your only chance for mercy!"
"Xue Mo, eight hundred years ago you massacred my clan and took my arm! Today, I will return that suffering tenfold!"
Voices sharpened by decades of hatred crashed over the crumbling mountain peaks. Some cultivators shouted their rage, others nursed their wounds in fearful silence, all haunted by the specter of the man they had cornered.
At the center of the siege stood Xue Mo. His crimson robes were stained dark with blood and torn from countless battles. His once pristine hair clung to his sweat drenched face, and a constellation of grievous wounds marred his body, a pool of crimson spreading around his boots. His sword, its spirit broken, lay discarded beside him.
Through the haze of pain, his thoughts drifted to Ling Chen. For over a century, he had nurtured the boy, shaping him into a prodigy who stood at the very precipice of the Saint Realm. Ling Chen was more than a disciple; he was the son Xue Mo never had, the chosen heir to his legacy. Now, amidst this sea of enemies, a cold doubt nestled in his heart. Where is he?
His calm gaze swept over the encircling host. Sect masters, elders, and renowned lone cultivators, each radiated immense power that warped the very air. At their forefront stood five figures whose auras screamed of the Saint Realm, beings who had emerged from centuries of seclusion for the sole purpose of his destruction. Behind them, dozens of elite Half Saints waited, the weakest having long since perished in the seven day siege.
Xue Mo's expression was not one of fear, but of eerie tranquility. His jet black eyes were deep pools absorbing the light around them. This was the composure of a man who had cheated death for thousands of years.
The setting sun bled across the battlefield, painting the stones in hues of fire and blood. The tension was a physical weight, a storm waiting to break.
Then, Xue Mo moved. He slowly lifted his head, his tattered robes stirring in the wind. A faint, blood tinged smile touched his lips.
"So," his voice cut through the silence, calm and clear. "All of this for a technique none of you righteous paragons would ever dare cultivate. Or would you?"
His words were a spark thrown onto oil.
"Silence, demon!" An elder from the Heavenly Radiance Sect roared, his spiritual aura exploding outwards with enough force to fracture the air. "We seek to erase your evil, not inherit it! Your reign of terror ends now!"
But before he could attack, a figure stepped forward. His robes were marked with the crimson patterns of the Blood Fiend Sect. His face was young and sharp, his presence filled with the power of a Half-Saint. Ling Chen.
"Master," Ling Chen said, his tone calm yet filled with hidden scorn. "Your time is over. The sect deserves a leader who will bring it true greatness. You are old. I will take your place."
Xue Mo stared at him, his expression tightening. "You betrayed me?"
Ling Chen's smile was thin and cold. "Everything you taught me, I used. I unraveled your formations. I revealed your hidden paths to your enemies. Every step you took, I watched and recorded. The Blood Fiend Sect is mine now."
The crowd stirred. Even the Saint Realm experts exchanged wary glances. They had relied on Ling Chen's betrayal to corner Xue Mo, but his ambition was not something to ignore.
Memories flooded Xue Mo's mind. He remembered Ling Chen's questions, his long nights of study, the sharp glint in his eyes. It all made sense now. He had raised a snake in his heart.
"You think you can control the sect?" Xue Mo's voice hardened. "The Blood Fiend Sect is not a prize. It is a beast. One day it will devour you."
Ling Chen only smirked. "Strength rules all. The sect bows to me already. Once you are gone, no one will resist."
Xue Mo gave a bitter laugh. "Then come. See if you can take my life."
His body erupted with a violent aura. Blood rose from the ground and swirled around him like a storm. His wounds stopped bleeding as crimson light wrapped his figure.
"He's activating his blood domain!" a sect master screamed. "Do not let him complete it! Now!"
The five Saints moved in perfect, devastating unison. One summoned a colossal sword of golden light, crackling with divine lightning as it fell. Another manifested a gigantic palm of pure flame, its heat scorching the very stone. A third unleashed a deluge of razor sharp water, while the final two tore at the fabric of space itself, aiming to sever Xue Mo's existence from reality.
Through the maelstrom, Ling Chen acted with cold precision. He produced a blood red jade tablet, its surface pulsing with forbidden runes. As he channeled his power into it, a wave of nullifying energy washed over Xue Mo, causing the burgeoning blood domain to flicker and wane.
"You entrusted me with every secret of your power," Ling Chen called out. "Did you believe I would not forge them into your shackles?"
He then turned to the righteous leaders. "The Blood Deity Art you crave is lost. But the sect itself, its resources and its army, are mine to command. Oppose me, and you will ignite a war that will bleed your sects dry. Support my claim, and I will ensure the Blood Fiend Sect never threatens your borders again."
The woman controlling the orb of fire narrowed her eyes. "You dare issue terms to us, turncoat? We are here to eradicate your filth, not bargain with it!"
Ling Chen's smile was razor sharp. "I hold the keys to the fortress. A fight with me gains you nothing but ash and bones. The choice is simple."
Their collective killing intent faltered, tempered by the chilling logic of his words.
As the apocalyptic techniques converged, the mountain peak could no longer withstand the pressure and began to disintegrate into dust and rubble. The very sky seemed to weep at the destruction.
Yet, Xue Mo did not fall.
His aura surged with a final, desperate strength, condensing into a towering apparition of blood and shadow. The demonic figure raised a clawed hand and caught the descending golden sword. Lightning exploded outwards in a shower of sparks. The fiery palm met the blood aura in a cataclysmic detonation that scorched the air. The torrent of water was swallowed and turned to vapor before it could strike. The spatial rifts sliced deep wounds into the blood deity, but they sealed shut as quickly as they appeared, the ancient power within him refusing to be unmade.
Whoosh!
A new pressure descended, so immense it dwarfed all that had come before. The air grew heavy, and space itself seemed to bend and groan under the weight of a supreme consciousness. The sky darkened further, a profound sense of dread blanketing the battlefield.
"Saint King!" the Saint in golden armor hissed through clenched teeth, his voice laced with both awe and defiance. He had not expected one of such legendary status to personally intervene.
Every Saint Realm cultivator froze, their faces paling as they turned to face the source of this terrifying presence. This was a being whose mere arrival could decide the fate of entire continents.
Swoosh!
A lance of pure golden light, moving faster than thought, shot from the void aimed directly for Xue Mo's heart. Gathering the last dregs of his power, Xue Mo crossed his arms in a final, defiant guard. The impact was immense. The light pierced his defense, striking his chest and draining the strength from his limbs. Agony, white hot and absolute, blinded him. The weight of finality crushed down upon him.
But in that deepest darkness, at the core of his annihilation, something ancient and dormant flickered in response, a final failsafe he himself had forgotten.
The Saint King materialized, his form radiating a holy aura that oppressed the lingering demonic energy of the battlefield. His eyes, old and infinitely weary, scanned the ruins before settling on Ling Chen.
The disciple stepped forward, bowing with a confidence that belied the overwhelming presence before him. "Saint King. Xue Mo is finished, as promised. The Blood Fiend Sect is mine to command. An alliance would be... mutually beneficial."
The Saint King's gaze was like physical weight. "The Blood Deity Art," he rumbled, his voice the low grind of tectonic plates. "It is gone from this place. I sense its unique resonance no more. Explain."
This was the critical moment. The Saint King had not scanned Xue Mo's body; he had scanned the area, the flow of energy itself, and found it absent the Art's distinct, corrupt signature.
Ling Chen kept his expression neutral, though tension thrummed beneath the surface. "A final spiteful act from my master. He must have dissipated its essence rather than let it be captured. But the sect's tangible strength remains, its legions, its hidden vaults, its strategic holdings. I hold it all. To destroy me is to destroy the prize you truly seek, a neutralized threat and access to the resources needed to maintain the balance of power."
The armored Saint stepped forward, his voice a low growl. "Saint King, this viper's words are poison! He orchestrated this betrayal. He cannot be trusted to hold a leash on that den of monsters!"
The woman with the fiery orb nodded in grim agreement. "We came to burn the tree and salt the earth. Not to appoint a new gardener."
The Saint King's eyes remained fixed on Ling Chen, weighing his soul. "Trust is irrelevant. Control is what matters. You believe you can control the beast where its master could not?"
From the ground, Xue Mo, through a mouthful of blood, forced a wet, mocking laugh. "You see yourself as a king, Ling Chen? You are but a useful tool, a placeholder. Their tolerance for you will last only as long as your usefulness. They will crush you the moment you cease to amuse them or the moment you show a flicker of the ambition I see in your eyes now."
Ling Chen met his master's fading gaze without flinching, his voice cold and steady. "Unlike you, Master, I understand the balance of power. I know my place is not to conquer the world, but to manage its shadows. The sect is mine. It will not just survive. It will thrive within the boundaries they set." He turned back to the Saint King. "I offer stability, not conquest."
The Saint King observed the exchange, his ancient eyes unreadable. The silence stretched, heavy with the fate of nations. Finally, he spoke, his words final. "The artifact is lost. The demon is broken. Continued war serves no purpose." He looked at the other Saints. "The balance must be maintained. He holds the sect. That is now a fact." His gaze returned to Ling Chen. "Thrive within your boundaries, Little Snake. Cross them, and no vault will be deep enough to hide you from my light."
Without another word, he dissolved back into the void, his departure sucking the pressure from the air.
The righteous cultivators were left standing amidst the rubble, their weapons half lowered. The fervor for vengeance had cooled, replaced by the cold, unsatisfying reality of geopolitics. The woman in crimson let her fiery orb extinguish, her expression one of hollow victory.
"All this," she muttered to the golden-armored Saint, "and the Art is lost. We have slain a demon only to crown a viper."
He could only shake his head, his voice heavy with foreboding. "We came for a monster's head and ended up making a deal with a devil. We may yet regret the price of this 'stability'."
A profound silence fell, heavy with the ashes of their triumph and the dark seed of future conflict.
Xue Mo's vision blurred as the voices faded. The crushing pain gave way to a strange, numb detachment. The world dissolved into darkness, and his body slumped to the ravaged earth, finally still.
But as the last flicker of his consciousness prepared to extinguish, it was not met with oblivion. Deep within his shattered dantian, where his core had seemingly collapsed, the ancient power that had flickered now pulsed. It was a tiny, desperate ember, fiercely guarding a profound secret the true essence of the Blood Deity Art, not dissipated, but perfectly, utterly concealed, hidden even from a Saint King.
The thought was his last before the darkness took him completely.