The shockwave from the shattered energy dome hit the balcony like a speeding freight train. Wuji dug his bare feet into the cracking stone, forcing his center of gravity down. Shards of golden light rained across the courtyard, hissing and burning out before they even hit the ground.
The noise was the worst part. It wasn't a massive explosion. It was a low, mechanical hum vibrating through the air—the sound of ten thousand flying swords hovering in perfect synchronization.
Wuji looked up. The night sky was gone. It was completely replaced by a solid ceiling of pristine white robes and polished steel.
He wiped a fresh line of toxic black blood off his chin. His internal pathways were still screaming from the Extreme Yang overload. The system flashed a bright red warning in the corner of his vision. Cellular damage was creeping up to fourteen percent. The Yang energy was a rabid dog on a short leash inside his chest. Every time he breathed, it felt like inhaling broken glass. He shoved the notification into the back of his mind. No one got to see him bleed. Dealing with his melting organs was a problem for later. Right now, he had to deal with the glowing idiot floating at the very front of the armada.
Ye Chen didn't just fly. He hovered perfectly still, completely unsupported by a sword or a ship, radiating a blinding golden light that actually hurt to look at. It was a massive, deliberate waste of Qi. Nobody needed to glow that bright just to float. It was pure theater. A flex to make sure every single person on the mountain knew exactly who the main character was.
The Karma Lotus pulsed behind Wuji's eyes. The data dump hit him instantly.
[TARGET LOCKED: YE CHEN.]
[STATUS: SON OF HEAVEN. CARRIER OF THE HEAVENLY AURA.]
[CULTIVATION: NASCENT SOUL REALM (PEAK).]
[AFFINITY: SUPREME LIGHT AND WIND.]
[DESTINY VALUE: 99,999+]
Wuji stared at that number. Ninety-nine thousand. He had exactly five hundred points in the bank, and he had nearly burned his own heart out to get them. The universe didn't just play favorites. It rigged the entire casino, gave the house all the chips, and told everyone else to play fair.
Wuji leaned his forearms against the broken stone railing. He didn't look directly at the glowing hero. He looked at the logistics.
Ten thousand cultivators. Every single one of them wearing flawless, unstained white silk. Three massive flying warships anchored the formation in the background. Their hulls were plated with pure spirit gold, reflecting Ye Chen's light like massive mirrors. Heavy Qi cannons lined the decks, all swiveled and locked onto the main pavilion. Just firing one of those cannons cost more spirit stones than a mortal city made in a decade.
Wuji ran the math. The Yin-Yang Demon Sect used to be rich, but outfitting an army like this required an impossible amount of resources. Where did it come from?
The answer was buried in the memories he just inherited. The Orthodox Alliance controlled the southern spirit stone mines. They didn't dig the stones themselves. They used demihuman slaves. Foxkin, wolf-kin, spider-kin—races they conveniently branded as "unholy beasts" to justify the free labor. They worked them to death in pitch-black tunnels, collapsed the shafts when the slaves got too old to swing a pickaxe, and used the massive profits to buy spotless white robes. That way, they could look absolutely divine while slaughtering actual demons.
The Yin-Yang Demon Sect practiced Dual Cultivation and took what they wanted, but they didn't hide behind a fake smile while doing it. The Orthodox Alliance? They smiled warmly while they broke your spine. It was a brilliant business model. Disgusting, but brilliant.
Down in the courtyard, the morale boost from Wuji's earlier display was evaporating rapidly. The sheer suffocating pressure of a Nascent Soul expert backed by a literal army was pressing the loyal disciples into the dirt. Some were dropping to their knees, gasping for air. The terrifying golden aura was designed to crush the will to fight before a single sword was swung.
Wuji felt the pressure too. It felt like someone had parked a truck on his chest. His Extreme Yang physique fought back automatically, hissing and crackling under his skin, demanding to rip the threat apart. He forced the energy down, swallowing the sharp, metallic taste of blood welling up in his throat. He needed absolute precision right now, not a tantrum.
"Mo Wuji!"
The voice boomed from the sky. It was magically amplified to sound echoing and divine, like a god speaking from the clouds.
Ye Chen floated a few feet lower, looking down at the balcony with absolute disgust. He had a handsome face. The kind of sharp, flawless jawline that belonged on a propaganda poster for justice.
"I expected to find your corpse in the dirt, consumed by the rot you deserve," Ye Chen said. His words came out fast, riding a wave of his own adrenaline. He clearly loved the sound of his own voice. "But heaven is merciful. It gave me the chance to cleanse this mountain with my own hands. Look at you. A broken demon, clinging to a dying peak."
Ye Chen spread his arms wide, gesturing to the armada behind him.
"The Orthodox Alliance has surrounded Black Blood Mountain. Your arrays are shattered. Your elders are dead. The heavens have ordained this day. Your demonic arts will be burned from the annals of history, and your era of darkness is officially over."
Wuji didn't say anything. He just watched the guy.
People who talked that much usually had terrible footwork. They cared more about looking good than maintaining spatial awareness. Wuji noted the way Ye Chen held his hands. Relaxed. Arrogant. Completely wide open.
The silence stretched. Ye Chen frowned. He clearly expected Wuji to scream, beg, or launch a desperate, suicidal attack. That was how villains were supposed to act in the stories. They were supposed to throw a massive fit so the hero could look calm and collected while cutting them down.
Wuji just kept leaning against the railing. He reached up and scratched a spot on his collarbone where a black lightning tattoo was itching.
"You good?" Wuji asked.
His voice was quiet. It completely lacked the magical amplification Ye Chen was using. But the courtyard was so dead silent that the words carried easily up to the floating hero.
Ye Chen's golden aura flickered. Just for a microsecond. The hero blinked, genuinely thrown off by the absolute lack of panic.
"What?" Ye Chen snapped, the divine echo dropping from his voice for a second.
"You've been hovering up there for two minutes," Wuji said, his tone dry and flat. "You're burning at least three hundred units of Qi a second just to keep that glow effect going. It's a nice trick. Very shiny. But if you actually wanted to kill me, you would have swung that sword the second the barrier broke. So what are you waiting for? You need a bigger audience before you feel brave enough to do your job?"
Wuji knew exactly what the guy wanted. He wanted validation. Heroes like Ye Chen fed on the fear of their enemies. It was the only way they could justify the slaughter. If the demon wasn't scared, the hero felt like a bully. And Ye Chen's entire fragile ego was built on not being a bully.
Ye Chen's face tightened. The handsome features twisted into an ugly, self-righteous sneer. He hated being interrupted. He hated being analyzed.
"You arrogant piece of trash," Ye Chen said. His voice sped up, the holy facade cracking to reveal the spoiled brat underneath. "You think this is a game? You think acting tough is going to save you? I've seen the mass graves under this mountain! I've seen the innocent lives your sect has ruined!"
Wuji kept his face perfectly blank. Mass graves. Right. Because the slaves dying in the Orthodox mines were buried under white marble, so their bodies didn't count.
"You have no right to speak," Ye Chen continued. His voice rose in pitch. He started cutting off his own sentences as his anger spiked. "No right to stand there and look at me like that! I am the sword of the heavens! I am the justice that will end your wretched bloodline!"
The Karma Lotus system flashed rapidly in Wuji's peripheral vision.
[WARNING: TARGET EMOTIONAL STATE UNSTABLE.]
[ENERGY SPIKE DETECTED. WEAPON DRAW IMMINENT.]
Wuji slowly pushed himself off the stone railing. He didn't take a combat stance. He just stood up straight, letting his hands hang loose by his sides. The black lightning under his skin pulsed in time with his heartbeat. He was running on fumes, but he needed Ye Chen to make the first massive, stupid mistake. He needed the hero to overcommit.
Ye Chen finally stopped yapping. He reached over his right shoulder and grabbed the hilt of the holy sword strapped to his back.
The weapon slid from the scabbard with a sound like tearing silk. It wasn't just a sword. It was a slab of pure, condensed starlight. The moment the blade was exposed, the temperature in the courtyard plummeted, entirely consumed by the weapon's holy pressure. The sheer weight of the aura made the stone beneath Wuji's feet crack even further.
Ye Chen pointed the glowing tip of the sword directly at the center of Wuji's face.
He tapped back into his magical amplification. This time, he pushed it to the absolute limit.
"Mo Wuji!" Ye Chen roared. The sound shattered the remaining stained glass windows of the main pavilion behind the balcony. The voice didn't just echo across the mountain; it rolled like thunder across the entire southern continent. "By the decree of the Orthodox Alliance, and under the witness of the Heavenly Dao itself, I sentence you and every surviving rat in this sect to absolute eradication!"
The ten thousand cultivators in the sky erupted. They slammed their swords against their shields, screaming in fanatical, bloodthirsty joy. The noise was deafening. A tidal wave of righteous murder ready to crash down on the mountain.
Wuji looked past the glowing sword. He looked right into Ye Chen's eyes.
He didn't have an army. He didn't have a holy sword. He had a failing body and exactly five hundred Destiny points to his name.
It was time to ruin this guy's entire career.