The ruins of the Jiang estate stood in eerie silence. Broken walls, shattered pillars, and bloodstains painted a grim picture of the once-mighty clan's downfall. The scent of death lingered in the air, mixing with the faint traces of burnt incense that had once symbolized their pride and authority.
Shao Xian stood at the heart of the destruction, his expression as calm as ever. His robes remained untainted, not a single drop of blood daring to stain him. The night wind howled through the remnants of the grand hall, carrying whispers of fear from those who had survived.
Yet, none of them dared to move.
Those who knelt before him—elders, disciples, servants—knew that their fate was no longer in their own hands. Their patriarch had perished in an instant, their warriors crushed like insects. The power they had once believed to be insurmountable had been nothing more than an illusion before this man.
Shao Xian turned his gaze toward the remnants of the Jiang Clan. His eyes held no pity. No hatred. No satisfaction.
Only indifference.
"The Jiang Clan," he murmured. "Nothing but dust in the wind."
He raised his hand, fingers lightly curled as if grasping something unseen. A subtle ripple spread through the air, and the ground beneath them began to tremble. The remaining members of the Jiang Clan gasped as a terrifying force pressed upon them, making it difficult to breathe.
Then—
Boom.
The entire estate collapsed. The earth split apart, swallowing the ruins whole. Towers that had once stood tall for generations crumbled into dust. Ancient artifacts, treasures, and sacred halls—all reduced to nothingness.
A fitting end.
A single step forward, and Shao Xian's figure vanished into the darkness. He had no reason to remain. The Jiang Clan was no longer worthy of his time.
As he walked away, he did not spare a single glance at the burning remains of his past.
This was only the beginning.
---
The world outside the Jiang estate remained untouched by the devastation within. The city, bustling with life, continued as though nothing had happened. Yet, a sense of unease crept through the hearts of those who had once relied on the Jiang Clan's power.
The news spread like wildfire.
A clan that had stood for centuries—one of the strongest in the region—had been annihilated in a single night. No survivors dared to speak of what had truly transpired. No one could explain how an entire lineage had vanished without warning.
Rumors swirled in the shadows. Some whispered of a vengeful specter, a demon that had returned from the abyss to reclaim what was his. Others believed the heavens themselves had struck down the Jiang Clan for their sins.
But those who had seen the destruction with their own eyes knew the truth.
A name that had been forgotten, erased from history itself—
Shao Xian.
The man who should have perished long ago had returned.
And nothing could stand in his way.
---
Far from the burning city, Shao Xian moved through the vast wilderness, his steps unhurried. The wind carried the scent of damp earth and wildflowers, a stark contrast to the bloodshed he had left behind.
He had no destination.
Only a path that stretched endlessly before him.
The world had changed during his absence. New sects had risen, empires had crumbled, and figures who once stood at the pinnacle had long since faded into obscurity.
Yet, none of it mattered.
The heavens may have forgotten his name. The world may have moved on without him.
But he would carve his legend once more.
A glimmer of light flickered in the distance. The silhouette of an ancient temple emerged from the mist-covered forest. A place of worship, untouched by time, standing alone amidst the trees.
Shao Xian's gaze darkened.
This place…
Memories, long buried, surfaced unbidden.
This temple had once belonged to a forgotten sect—one that had played a role in his past. Though its name had faded from history, Shao Xian remembered everything.
The betrayal.
The deception.
The day they had turned their backs on him when he needed them most.
His steps quickened as he approached the entrance. The grand doors, once adorned with golden inscriptions, were now weathered and dull. Dust covered the once-sacred grounds, and silence reigned where prayers had once been whispered.
A shadow moved.
A figure clad in tattered robes emerged from the inner sanctum, eyes widening in shock as they beheld Shao Xian.
"You…" The voice trembled. "You should not be here."
Shao Xian did not respond. He did not need to.
The air grew heavier. The temperature dropped.
The figure stumbled backward, fear creeping into their expression. "You are dead. You died long ago."
Shao Xian took another step forward. His presence alone suffocated the space around them. "Did you believe that?"
The figure clenched their fists, attempting to mask their terror. "This place is sacred. Even you cannot—"
Before they could finish, Shao Xian moved.
A blur of motion.
A single strike.
The figure collapsed, unable to even react before death claimed them.
Shao Xian stood over the lifeless body, his expression unchanging.
He had no patience for useless words.
His gaze lifted toward the inner sanctum. This temple had once been a place of power, a sanctuary for those who had betrayed him.
Now, it was nothing more than an abandoned relic.
But he was not here for vengeance. Not yet.
Something greater lay hidden within these walls.
Power.
A secret buried beneath the weight of time—one that only he knew how to uncover.
Shao Xian walked deeper into the temple, his steps echoing through the hollow halls. Dust swirled around him, disturbed by his presence. The carvings on the walls, once glowing with divine energy, had faded to mere shadows of their former selves.
And yet, the energy still lingered.
Faint. Distant.
But unmistakable.
He raised a hand, tracing his fingers along the cold stone. Ancient runes flared to life beneath his touch, pulsating with a forgotten power.
A hidden chamber.
A door that had remained sealed for centuries.
Shao Xian's lips curled into a faint smile.
This was where his true path would begin.