The battlefield stretched as far as the eye could see, illuminated by countless torches and glowing artifacts. The Seven Grand Sects had halted their march, their vast army forming disciplined ranks. Cultivators hovered in the sky like an unending swarm of locusts, their auras merging into a sea of power that threatened to shake the heavens.
From the vanguard, Elder Han of the Celestial Sword Sect took a step forward. His robes, embroidered with golden dragons, billowed in the night wind. His gaze, sharp as a divine blade, locked onto the lone figure standing atop the blackened hill.
"Shao Xian!" His voice thundered across the battlefield, infused with spiritual energy. "Your time has come! You may have been a sovereign in the past, but today, you will fall beneath the might of the Seven Grand Sects!"
Silence followed his proclamation. Millions of cultivators stood poised, awaiting a response.
Yet Shao Xian did not move.
He stood alone, his black robes merging with the night itself, his golden eyes burning like twin suns. His expression was one of amusement—calm, detached, as if he were watching mere insects scurrying below.
A single word left his lips.
"Come."
It was not a challenge.
It was a decree.
The moment the word echoed, Elder Han gritted his teeth. "Attack!"
With a single command, the battlefield erupted into chaos.
Countless cultivators surged forward, their swords gleaming, their spiritual techniques blazing across the sky. Lightning crackled, flames roared, and divine weapons shot toward the blackened hill where Shao Xian stood.
A thousand techniques, a thousand attacks—all descending upon a single man.
Bai Ren clenched his fists. "My lord, I—"
"Do nothing." Shao Xian's voice was indifferent.
Bai Ren hesitated, but obeyed.
Shao Xian raised his hand.
And then, time itself seemed to stop.
The incoming attacks—waves of fire, lightning, ice, and pure destruction—froze mid-air. Cultivators who had been charging forward found their movements sluggish, their very existence trembling under an unseen force.
A pressure unlike anything they had ever felt descended upon them.
Elder Zhu of the Spirit Hall's face twisted in horror. "W-what is this?!"
Elder Wei of the Scarlet Moon Sect gasped. "This… this isn't just a suppression of realm. This is… domain authority!"
Indeed, Shao Xian had not simply unleashed his power—he had imposed his very will upon the battlefield.
He stepped forward.
The moment his foot touched the ground, the frozen attacks shattered into dust.
Shao Xian raised his hand once more, and the night itself seemed to darken. A vast, ethereal hand materialized above the battlefield, its presence alone warping reality.
Then, with an effortless motion, he brought it down.
An earth-shattering explosion followed.
The first wave of cultivators, tens of thousands strong, were obliterated before they could even scream. Their bodies disintegrated into nothingness, their souls crushed beneath the sheer weight of Shao Xian's dominion.
The ground split apart, forming a massive crater where the vanguard had once stood.
Silence fell upon the battlefield once more.
Fear crept into the hearts of even the strongest among the Seven Grand Sects.
Shao Xian exhaled softly, his expression unchanged. "Is this the best you have?"
Elder Han's hands trembled. He had seen countless battles, witnessed the rise and fall of powerful cultivators, but never… never had he encountered something like this.
"Shao Xian… just what are you?" he whispered.
Shao Xian's smirk deepened. "I am inevitable."