The city sprawled before him, its walls towering yet meaningless in his eyes. From his vantage point at the edge of the valley, Shao Xian observed the movements of those within—merchants haggling, warriors patrolling, beggars groveling in the filth of the streets. It was a world dictated by power, yet those who walked these streets did not understand its true meaning.
Power was not something to be granted. It was not a status inherited through bloodlines or decrees issued from so-called "rulers." Power was to be seized. To be taken by those worthy.
Shao Xian's gaze sharpened.
The moment he set foot within this city, he would begin his ascent.
With a single step, he vanished. The wind barely stirred in his wake, the world itself failing to recognize his movement.
In the next breath, he stood at the city's entrance.
The great gates loomed above, guarded by men adorned in armor, their spears resting against the stone. They were strong—by the standards of this place. Their auras pulsed with Qi, their presence steady, but in Shao Xian's eyes, they were little more than insects unaware of the storm descending upon them.
"Name and purpose," one of them demanded, his voice firm.
Shao Xian said nothing.
The guard frowned, stepping forward. "This city does not welcome—"
A single glance.
The guard's breath caught in his throat. His body stiffened, cold sweat forming on his brow as an invisible pressure bore down upon him. His mouth opened, but no words came.
Shao Xian stepped forward, unchallenged.
The guards did not move. They could not move. They stood frozen, their minds trapped in an endless abyss of fear. By the time they regained themselves, Shao Xian was already gone, swallowed by the crowd beyond the gate.
The city was larger than it appeared from the mountainside. Streets twisted and wound through the expanse, each lined with shops, inns, and sect outposts. Cultivators walked among commoners, their robes distinct, their auras like flickering flames among dim candles. Some carried themselves with arrogance, others with wary caution. All of them, however, shared one trait—they believed themselves strong.
Shao Xian smirked.
They were all blind.
Power was not found in a sect's insignia. It was not determined by rank or reputation.
It was a force beyond their understanding.
And he would teach them its true nature.
A flicker of movement caught his attention.
A group of disciples, their robes marked with the crest of the Iron Fang Sect, moved through the streets with practiced arrogance. Their leader, a young man with sharp features and a smirk that dripped with self-assured superiority, barked orders to those around him.
"We take what we want. This city belongs to us. If they resist, break them."
The merchants nearby averted their gazes, their postures submissive. None dared challenge them.
Shao Xian stopped.
A man knelt before the sect members, his hands trembling as he clutched a small pouch of coins. "Please… I have given you everything I have. My family—"
A foot slammed into his chest. The man flew backward, coughing blood as his meager earnings scattered across the street.
The leader of the group sneered. "Your family? Do you think we care?"
Laughter followed.
The old man's eyes dimmed with despair.
Shao Xian's fingers twitched.
This was the world in which he had returned. A world where the weak were prey, and the strong dictated their fates.
How pathetic.
With a single step, he appeared before them.
The laughter stopped.
The leader's smirk faltered as he turned his gaze toward the unknown figure who had suddenly entered their midst.
"Who the hell are you?"
Shao Xian tilted his head, his voice as calm as the wind before a storm. "Did I grant you permission to speak?"
Silence.
The disciples stiffened.
The leader's face twisted in fury. "You think you—"
Shao Xian raised a single finger.
The world shifted.
In an instant, the leader was on his knees, his limbs refusing to obey his will. A weight beyond comprehension pressed upon him, suffocating, unbearable. His subordinates fell beside him, their bodies convulsing, their eyes wide with terror.
Shao Xian took another step forward. The leader gasped as the pressure increased. His vision blurred, his very soul trembling under the crushing force of an existence he could not comprehend.
"I will only say this once."
His voice, though soft, resonated with undeniable authority.
"The power you think you wield is nothing more than an illusion. A fleeting dream in the presence of true strength."
The leader could not respond. Blood seeped from his mouth, his body trembling violently.
Shao Xian lowered his gaze.
"This city belongs to me now."
The leader collapsed.
The onlookers watched in stunned silence as the once-arrogant disciples lay motionless on the ground, their bodies broken by an unseen force. None of them could comprehend what had just transpired. None could even find the courage to breathe too loudly.
And then, as if nothing had happened, Shao Xian turned and walked away.
The crowd parted before him, the weight of his presence suffocating. No one dared to stand in his path.
In that moment, an unspoken truth settled upon the city.
Something had changed.
A new force had arrived.
One that did not recognize the laws of those who thought themselves rulers.
One that would not be stopped.
As Shao Xian disappeared into the streets, a storm began to take shape. The balance that had once governed this city was beginning to crumble.
And this was only the beginning.