Shen Xuan stood at the precipice of his transformation, the metallic sphere, the slumbering heart of a dead plane,resting in his palm.
To a mortal, even a King of this era, it was a rusted curiosity. But Shen Xuan saw the truth: it was the condensed Origin Qi of a world.
This single orb possessed the power to evolve a bloodline, to reforge a shattered physique, and to ignite a soul until it burned with the intensity of a sun. If fed to his Eternal Spear, it would wake the weapon from its eon-long coma.
Just as he prepared to cast aside his robes and descend into the thermal pond to begin his refinement, a disturbance tore through the high-altitude winds. His pupils, flecked with golden-purple light, tracked an arc in the sky.
BOOM.
Something hit the sapphire lake with the force of a falling meteor. A massive plume of water erupted, and within heartbeats, the crystalline surface was stained with a spreading, visceral crimson.
Shen Xuan watched with eyes that held the coldness of the void. He did not rush. He did not panic. He simply placed the Origin Sphere back into the sanctuary of his consciousness and walked toward the water's edge.
"Save… me…"
A voice, fragile as shattered glass and soft as a dying ember, floated from the red-tinged waves. Through the clarity of the mountain water, Shen Xuan's vision pierced the depths. He saw the figure sinking—a woman, her spine shattered by the impact and her flesh torn by jagged spiritual weapons.
"How troublesome," Shen Xuan murmured, his tone neutral. But even as he spoke, he moved. He was not a savior, but neither was he a man who allowed his sanctuary to be defiled by the stench of a lingering death.
He stepped into the lake. With a single fluid motion, he pulled her from the depths. Her body was a canvas of slaughter, bleeding from a dozen deep lacerations. He placed her on a flat, sun-warmed stone. A cold, enigmatic smile touched his lips as he looked at her face. Even in the throes of death, her beauty was peerless, though currently masked by a veil of pain.
"I suggest you all turn back," Shen Xuan said, his voice carrying across the mountain peak like a low roll of thunder. "This young master is in a contemplative mood today. I have no desire to stain this summit with the blood of insects."
"Help… me…" she gasped again, her eyes fluttering open for a fraction of a second, revealing a depth of soul that surprised even him.
Shen Xuan looked toward the top of the waterfall, where the air was beginning to distort under the weight of killing intent. He sighed, a sound of profound boredom.
"It seems they did not hear me," he said.
He looked down at the girl. "Lend me your weapon. I shall eliminate the noise so you can die in peace, or live in silence."
The girl's jade-like hand trembled as she summoned her strength. A three-foot blade of condensed green light appeared in her grasp. A spirit sword.
"Thanks," Shen Xuan said, taking the hilt. The moment his fingers closed around the green light, the sword hummed with a terrified reverence, as if recognizing a hand that had once held the stars.
"You are safe now. Not because of fate, but because you disturbed my tea."
He walked toward the base of the waterfall. Mist rolled over his shoulders, and the roar of the water provided a rhythmic backdrop to the approaching slaughter.
Above, seven figures emerged from the forest. They wore dark cloaks that swallowed the light, radiating the pungent, acrid energy of professional assassins.
Each was a master of the Chaos Vessel Realm, with their leader standing at the very peak of that stage.
In the current world, a youth at the Chaos Seed Realm facing seven Chaos Vessel masters was a joke, a tragedy waiting to happen. But Shen Xuan did not belong to the current world.
"Little brat," the leader hissed, his voice an ominous rattle. "You have seen too much. Do not think that having a pretty face will save you. Step aside, or share her grave."
"A share in her grave?" Shen Xuan's smile was perceptive, almost pitying.
"You are at the Chaos Vessel Realm, yet your vision is so limited. Tell me, why do you seek to kill her? Give me a reason that justifies the effort of me swinging this sword."
"It seems you have chosen the hard way," the leader sneered, ignoring the question. "Number Four, end him. Then we take the girl. We'll enjoy her before we send her to join the brat."
The man called Number Four stepped forward, a jagged spiritual dagger appearing in his hand. He licked the blade, his eyes gleaming with a disgusting, lecherous hunger. "You're lucky, boy. You'll be the first to taste this new poison."
Shen Xuan felt a flash of genuine disgust. "Revolting."
He raised the green spirit sword. He didn't assume a complex stance. He simply held it above his head, his breathing becoming one with the waterfall behind him.
"As the river cuts the stone," he whispered.
The sword descended.
There was no explosion of Qi. No blinding light show. Only a gentle, almost invisible arc of transparent sword intent that sliced through the mist.
Number Four didn't even have time to blink. He raised his dagger to parry a strike he couldn't see.
CLANG.
The sound was like glass shattering in a silent room. The top-grade spiritual dagger disintegrated into a thousand fragments, each piece severed by a force it couldn't comprehend.
A heartbeat later, a thin, crimson line appeared across Number Four's throat. He tried to speak, but his vocal cords were already separated. He tried to breathe, but his lungs were disconnected from the air.
With the silent grace of a falling leaf, his head slid from his shoulders. Blood sprayed into the air, only to be instantly vaporized by the sheer pressure of the waterfall. His headless body stood for a moment longer, a fountain of red, before collapsing into the lake.
Silence.
The remaining six assassins froze. Even the girl on the rock, her vision blurring from blood loss, felt a jolt of shock. A single strike. No resistance. No struggle. Just an absolute erasure.
"You..." The leader's voice was no longer ominous. It was a tremor. He took an involuntary step back, the arrogance drained from his face as he looked into Shen Xuan's empty, gray eyes. "What... what devilish technique was that?"
Shen Xuan lowered the sword. Not a single drop of blood clung to the green light.
"A basic sword move," Shen Xuan replied, his voice flat. "You do not deserve anything more. You are not even worthy of a named technique."
"Together! Kill him! Kill him now!" the leader roared, the panic in his voice acting as a catalyst.
The five remaining assassins surged forward. Chains, blades, and talismans erupted in a chaotic storm of energy. They formed a net of death, intended to shred Shen Xuan into a thousand pieces.
Shen Xuan didn't retreat.
He stepped forward. His figure blurred, merging with the falling mist and the swaying trees.
To the assassins, it felt as if they were trying to strike the wind itself.
The green sword flickered.
One man's chest collapsed inward. There was no wound, yet his heart was pulverized by a vibration passed through the air.
Another had both arms severed before he could even register the pain. His weapons fell into the lake, followed quickly by his hands.
The third, a dwarf-like man of incredible speed, found himself suddenly bisected vertically. He didn't even scream.
In the span of three breaths, three more bodies hit the water. The lake was no longer sapphire; it was a dark, roiling crimson..
"This... this isn't possible!" the leader screamed. He had seen his own death in the boy's eyes. The survival instinct, the only thing he had left, took over. "RUN!"
The remaining two assassins didn't need to be told twice.
They turned, using every ounce of their cultivation to flee up the side of the waterfall. They abandoned their dignity, their mission, and their fallen brothers.
Shen Xuan watched them go and let out a soft sigh.
"You are already dead," he whispered.
He didn't move his feet. He only flicked the sword twice. Two arcs of invisible intent chased the fleeing men. Mid-leap, both were split in two, their bifurcated remains falling back into the red lake like discarded meat.
The leader was the last. He reached the top of the waterfall, his lungs burning, only to find a silver-haired boy standing directly in his path.
Shen Xuan's robes were pristine. Not a drop of blood. Not a bead of sweat.
"Who... are you...?" the leader wheezed.
Shen Xuan looked down at him, his gaze colder than the mountain peaks.
"I am the answer to the prayer you didn't know you made," Shen Xuan said. "You wanted to know about death. Now, experience it."