The Battlefield of Despair
XiaoYan walked across the battlefield, his steps cold and measured. The stench of blood and death hung thick in the air. Before him lay a sea of fallen disciples and demons alike, their lifeless bodies scattered across the Obsidian River's black banks. The once-mighty saints struggled to remain standing, their faces streaked with blood and exhaustion.
Mi-An lay on the ground, her chest rising and falling slowly, her hands weak and trembling, her blood soaking her robes. XiaoYan's gaze immediately fell on her. His heart clenched, a mixture of fury and sorrow rising within him. He knelt by her side, touching her pale, fragile hand.
"You killed your father… do you think you're worth saving her?" the evil god's voice slithered into his ears, sharp and mocking.
XiaoYan's rage ignited like a storm. His eyes, now glowing green, fixated on the figure looming above the carnage. Mi-An's expression remained sober, though worry and fear flickered across her features. Slowly, she stood, weak yet determined, and faced the evil god alongside XiaoYan.
"The father that protected you a thousand years ago, pushing you off the cliff to save you… what did you do to him? You killed him!" the evil god shouted, his voice echoing across the battlefield.
XiaoYan's robe transformed into a radiant blue, reminiscent of his father's own, and a wave of pure lightning surged from his hand, pushing the evil god back. His fury was unmatched, yet his heart ached with the weight of grief.
"You want to kill me the same way you did to your father?" the evil god laughed, regaining his stance. "Hahaha. Will the world truly rely on someone who killed his own father to survive?"
XiaoYan shed a tear. Around him, the screams of disciples being slaughtered tore through his soul. Even the Celestial Realm refused his summon—it grieved for the Ansha, unable to answer the call of the one who had killed him.
The evil god laughed cruelly at the sight of the outcasted XiaoYan.