The cold air of the underground chamber still carried remnants of the fragmented past. The faint hum of residual energy pulsed through the carved walls, whispering secrets of an age long buried beneath the weight of time. Shao Xian stood motionless, the fragment in his grasp still emanating a faint yet unmistakable aura. It was a remnant of a greater whole, a shard of the power that once belonged to him.
He turned his gaze towards the exit, his expression indifferent. The temple had served its purpose. What little remained of its once-glorious defenses had already crumbled before him, leaving nothing but hollow ruins in his wake.
As he walked towards the entrance, the energy within the chamber began to shift. A ripple of resistance, faint but stubborn, lingered in the air. Something—no, someone—was watching.
Shao Xian did not slow his pace. "Come out."
The silence stretched for a moment before a voice, hoarse yet filled with barely restrained power, echoed from the shadows.
"You should not be here."
From the far side of the chamber, an aged figure emerged. Draped in robes that had long lost their former luster, the old man's presence was like a fading ember, a flickering light on the verge of being extinguished. And yet, despite his frailty, the gaze he fixed upon Shao Xian held no fear—only resignation.
Shao Xian regarded him with the same indifference he granted the dust beneath his feet. "And yet, here I stand."
The old man's brows furrowed. "Do you understand what you have taken?" His gaze shifted towards the fragment in Shao Xian's hand. "That power was not meant to be wielded."
Shao Xian tilted his head slightly. "Not meant to be wielded?" His voice was calm, but the amusement in his tone was unmistakable. "Then tell me, old one—who was it meant for?"
The old man's fingers curled into trembling fists. "The balance of this world was preserved for a reason. That fragment belongs to the one who—"
Shao Xian took a single step forward.
The sheer weight of his presence alone sent a ripple through the chamber, forcing the old man to stagger backward. His breath hitched, as if an invisible hand had clutched his throat.
"You speak of balance." Shao Xian's voice was soft, yet it carried the weight of absolute authority. "Yet balance is but a fleeting illusion created by the weak to justify their stagnation."
The old man gritted his teeth. "You… you are…"
Shao Xian took another step. The temperature in the chamber plummeted. The old man's legs trembled under an invisible force, and his once-steady breath turned ragged.
"I am what?" Shao Xian asked, his tone almost mocking.
The old man struggled to form words, but in the end, he could only stare in horror. His mind, though aged and withered, seemed to recognize something beyond what mortal comprehension should allow.
Shao Xian's eyes, like endless voids of unfathomable depth, watched him with disinterest. He had no need for the old man's recognition, nor his feeble protests.
With a flick of his fingers, a pulse of energy erupted from his body. The force was neither flashy nor excessive—just a mere fraction of his true power. Yet, to the old man, it might as well have been divine judgment.
His body crumbled into dust before he could even scream.
The temple fell silent once more.
Shao Xian exhaled lightly. Even now, even in his current weakened state, the difference between himself and these so-called "guardians" was laughable. If this was the level of power that opposed him, then reclaiming what was his would be even easier than he had anticipated.
Still, something about the old man's words intrigued him.
Balance.
A concept that had long since ceased to hold any meaning to him.
He stepped over the pile of ashes that had once been his opposition and left the chamber without a second glance. The time for lingering had passed. There were far greater matters ahead.
---
The world outside greeted him with the dull glow of twilight. The ruined temple stood atop a jagged mountain peak, surrounded by endless clouds that stretched beyond the horizon. The air here was thin, laced with traces of ancient energy.
Shao Xian stood at the temple's entrance, gazing out over the vast expanse below. The lands sprawled endlessly, a mixture of towering cities and desolate wilderness, each carrying the remnants of forgotten wars and silent tragedies.
A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
It was all so fragile.
Even from here, he could feel the presence of countless sects, empires, and self-proclaimed lords vying for control over lands that were never truly theirs to begin with. They fought their petty wars, convinced that they dictated the course of history.
But history did not belong to them.
It belonged to those who seized it.
And Shao Xian would seize everything.
His grip tightened around the fragment in his hand, the pulsing energy within it syncing with the very core of his being. It was only a small piece, a mere fraction of what he once possessed, yet even this insignificant shard carried enough power to shake the foundations of the world.
There were more.
He could feel them, scattered across the vast expanse of the universe, waiting to be reclaimed.
But first…
He turned his gaze downward.
Beneath the mountain, nestled within the valley's embrace, lay a city. A sprawling metropolis of towering structures and ancient walls, its streets bustling with life even as nightfall loomed.
A place where power gathered. Where sects and clans converged, scheming and plotting in the shadows.
A perfect place to begin.
Shao Xian descended from the temple, his movements as effortless as a phantom drifting through the wind. The earth itself seemed to recognize his presence, the very air parting in silent reverence.
As he stepped into the valley, a storm was already brewing.
And soon, the world would remember his name.