The wind howled across the ruins of Blackstone Keep, carrying with it the scent of blood and burnt wood. The once-mighty stronghold of Geng Tianhu lay in ruins, its defenders either slain or kneeling before their new master. Yet, amidst the destruction, Shao Xian stood unperturbed, his golden eyes reflecting neither satisfaction nor pity.
He had crushed the Iron Fang Overlord as effortlessly as one would swat an insect, and now the Northern Wastes lay bare before him.
Zhou Fan approached, his armor stained with battle. "My Lord, the warlords of the surrounding territories have heard of our victory. Some have sent envoys seeking surrender. Others… plot resistance."
Shao Xian did not turn. "Names."
Zhou Fan bowed slightly before replying, "The Wolf Fang Clan and the Scarlet Moon Tribe have pledged their loyalty. However, the Boulder King and the Frozen Spear Sect refuse to yield."
A soft chuckle escaped Shao Xian's lips. "Fools. They believe resistance will grant them a path forward?"
Minister Han, standing nearby, interjected carefully, "The Boulder King has ruled the western mountains for over sixty years. His strength is said to rival that of a peak Spirit Lord. The Frozen Spear Sect, on the other hand, wields ancient ice arts, making them difficult opponents in this terrain."
Zhou Fan scoffed. "It does not matter. My Lord will sweep them away like dust."
Shao Xian finally turned, his gaze sharp. "Indeed. But we will not rush."
He stepped forward, descending from the ruined fortress. The gathered soldiers instinctively parted for him, their awe palpable. In mere days, they had witnessed feats that defied their understanding. Their loyalty no longer stemmed from fear alone—it was something deeper.
Shao Xian could sense it. They had begun to believe.
That night, as the moon cast its silver glow upon the wasteland, the remaining warlords held a clandestine gathering deep within the Ice Hollow Caverns. The cavern walls shimmered with ancient frost, trapping echoes of whispered schemes within their depths.
The Boulder King, a towering brute of a man, slammed his fist against the stone table before him. "Enough! That man is no ordinary warlord. He is a calamity given form! If we allow him to expand further, none of us will survive."
Across from him, an elderly figure draped in ice-blue robes nodded grimly. Elder Mu of the Frozen Spear Sect spoke with measured coldness, "His methods are ruthless, but there is one flaw in his conquest—he moves too swiftly. He crushes his enemies with overwhelming force, but he does not consolidate. If we strike now, while his forces are still adjusting, we may yet stand a chance."
A murmur of agreement spread through the gathered warlords.
Then, a voice echoed from the shadows. "Fools. You speak of striking at a dragon as if it were a mere beast."
The air grew heavy as a cloaked figure stepped forward, his presence sending chills through the gathered leaders.
"Who are you?" the Boulder King demanded.
The figure smirked. "Merely an observer… one who has seen the rise and fall of countless rulers."
Elder Mu narrowed his eyes. "And what do you propose?"
The figure's voice lowered to a whisper. "You do not need to defeat him… merely delay him. There are forces beyond this land that would not welcome his rise."
The warlords exchanged glances, uncertainty flickering in their eyes.
"Think carefully," the stranger continued. "Stand alone, and you will perish. But if you buy time… greater powers will take notice."
A long silence stretched between them. Then, the Boulder King exhaled sharply. "Very well. We shall strike—not to win, but to stall. We shall drown him in a war without end."
Three days later, the storm descended upon Shao Xian's forces.
The Boulder King led a force of ten thousand hardened warriors, their armored ranks forming an unyielding tide of steel. From the north, the Frozen Spear Sect's disciples unleashed a barrage of ice-bound techniques, turning the battlefield into a frozen wasteland.
Zhou Fan rode up beside Shao Xian, his grip tight on his spear. "They come in force, my Lord. Shall we crush them outright?"
Shao Xian gazed at the approaching armies, his expression unreadable. "No. Let them struggle."
He raised his hand, and the air trembled. A pulse of unseen energy swept across the battlefield, and suddenly, the enemy soldiers staggered. Their bodies grew heavy, their weapons trembling in their hands.
Then—silence.
An eerie stillness settled over the battlefield as the opposing forces found themselves unable to move freely. The weight of Shao Xian's presence alone had shackled them.
The Boulder King's eyes widened in disbelief. "What… what is this?!"
Shao Xian finally moved. He walked forward, alone, stepping onto the frozen field as if he were merely taking a stroll.
"Do you feel it?" he murmured, his voice reaching every ear despite the distance. "The weight of inevitability."
With a flick of his wrist, the battlefield erupted.
A hundred warriors were instantly crushed into the ice, their bodies snapping like twigs. The frozen techniques of the enemy shattered like glass, their formations unraveling into chaos.
Elder Mu, witnessing this from afar, felt a rare tremor of fear. "This is… impossible."
Shao Xian did not stop. He raised a single finger, and the sky darkened. The air itself twisted, forming a vortex of pure annihilation.
The Boulder King roared, attempting to charge forward—only for his massive frame to freeze in place. The last thing he saw was Shao Xian's golden gaze, piercing through the storm like an eternal truth.
Then—obliteration.
The earth split. The sky screamed.
When the dust settled, there was nothing left of the enemy forces but silence.
The remnants of the battlefield lay scattered before Shao Xian, a testament to his dominance. Zhou Fan and the others approached cautiously, their awe unmasked.
"It is done," Zhou Fan murmured.
Shao Xian closed his eyes briefly before turning away. "No. It is only beginning."
Far beyond the Northern Wastes, hidden eyes were now watching. And they would soon learn the same truth as those before them.
He was inevitable.