The night sky was painted in shades of deep indigo, but the land beneath was anything but peaceful. The combined forces of the Seven Grand Sects moved like an unstoppable tide, millions of cultivators marching in perfect formation. Their presence alone was enough to shake the heavens, their killing intent dense enough to suffocate weaker beings.
At the forefront of the army, seven figures stood tall, each radiating an aura that could shatter mountains. These were the Grand Elders, the supreme leaders of the Seven Grand Sects, beings who had reigned unchallenged for centuries. Their faces were solemn, their eyes filled with determination—and hidden beneath that, a sliver of fear.
Elder Han of the Celestial Sword Sect narrowed his eyes as he gazed toward the Eastern Wastes. "Shao Xian has yet to move. He waits for us as if he has already won."
Elder Zhu of the Spirit Hall scoffed. "Arrogant fool. He may have been a legend in the past, but that was before our time. This is a new era, and we are its rulers."
Elder Wei of the Scarlet Moon Sect frowned. "Do not underestimate him. He did not just return stronger—he returned as something beyond comprehension. You have all seen what he did to the Northern Dominion."
The group fell into silence. The destruction of the Northern Dominion had been nothing short of apocalyptic. Entire sects had been reduced to dust in mere moments. Armies of thousands had perished without even knowing what killed them. If they hadn't seen it themselves, they would have never believed that one man could wield such power.
Elder Han finally spoke. "That is why we march together. That is why we strike before he grows even stronger. If we hesitate now, there will be no future for us."
His words rang true, and none dared to argue.
Their forces pressed onward, their war banners fluttering under the cold wind. Cultivators of all levels—Core Formation disciples, Nascent Soul elders, Dao Lords—each stepped forward with unwavering determination. War formations were being set, divine weapons were readied, and protective talismans shimmered in the dim moonlight.
And yet, despite their sheer numbers and overwhelming strength, an oppressive feeling loomed over them.
As if no matter how many came, they were still marching toward certain doom.
---
Far ahead, standing atop a blackened hill, Shao Xian watched them approach. His expression remained unreadable, his golden eyes reflecting the countless torches and glowing artifacts of the enemy army.
"So, they finally arrive," he murmured.
Beside him, Bai Ren knelt. "Lord Shao, their forces are beyond anything we have faced thus far. The weakest among them are already at the Nascent Soul stage, and their leaders are all peak Dao Saints. Even with our strength, this battle will not be an easy one."
Shao Xian chuckled, his voice as calm as ever. "An easy battle? Bai Ren, when have I ever needed one?"
Bai Ren lowered his head, his respect deepening. "Shall I give the order to prepare for engagement?"
"No." Shao Xian raised a single hand, stopping Bai Ren in his tracks. "We will not move."
Bai Ren hesitated. "But, my lord—"
Shao Xian's lips curled into a smirk. "Let them come."
The air trembled as those words left his mouth, as if the very heavens had acknowledged his decree.
And so, he stood there, waiting.
Like an emperor overlooking the battlefield, knowing that victory had already been decided.