Shao Xian stepped out of the ancient vault, his aura subtly shifting. Though he concealed his power, the very air around him felt heavier, as if the laws of the world bent under his mere presence.
The moment his figure emerged from the hidden chamber, the surroundings trembled. The once-dormant celestial array carved into the mountain walls suddenly activated. Runes of suppression flickered to life, forming a golden barrier meant to trap anyone who dared claim the vault's secrets.
Yet, Shao Xian merely glanced at it.
"A worthless trick," he muttered.
He extended his hand, and an unseen force surged from his fingertips. The golden runes shattered one by one, as though they were nothing more than brittle glass. The formation—crafted by ancient sovereigns—collapsed in an instant, unable to withstand the power of the Eternal Dao Suppression Scripture.
The barrier faded, and silence descended.
Shao Xian took a step forward, vanishing from the vault's ruins.
Moments later, he reappeared on the outskirts of the Desolate Thunder Sect. A storm brewed in the skies above, thick clouds crackling with divine lightning. The sect's grand hall stood in the distance, its once-imposing structure now nothing more than an ant before him.
A group of elders and disciples gathered outside, their expressions a mixture of confusion and fear. They had sensed the collapse of the vault's protective array, and now, an unknown presence had appeared before them.
"Who dares intrude upon the Desolate Thunder Sect?!" one of the elders barked, his voice laced with authority.
Shao Xian ignored him. His golden eyes swept over the assembled crowd as if they were mere insects unworthy of his attention.
Then, his voice rang out, cold and absolute.
"Bring out your sect master."
The words alone carried such weight that several weaker disciples coughed up blood. The elders' expressions darkened, but a flicker of hesitation crossed their faces.
The name Shao Xian meant nothing to them.
But the pressure he exuded—something ancient, something divine—made them hesitate.
Before they could react, the sect gates burst open. A towering figure emerged, clad in robes woven with lightning patterns. His aura crackled with the power of the heavens, and his eyes gleamed with contempt.
"You must be seeking death," the sect master said, stepping forward. "Daring to threaten my Desolate Thunder Sect—"
Shao Xian lifted his hand.
The world fell silent.
The sect master's voice was cut off as an invisible force clamped around his throat. His once-mighty cultivation—enough to shake a region—was instantly suppressed. His lightning aura flickered, his divine power vanishing as if it had never existed.
His eyes widened in horror.
"W-what… is this?!"
Shao Xian's lips curled into an indifferent smirk.
"Did you believe your strength meant something before me?"
He tightened his grip. The sect master's body trembled violently. Veins bulged across his face, his limbs convulsing as his own dao abandoned him.
A terrifying realization dawned upon him.
His cultivation… was gone.
His comprehension of lightning, the foundation of his strength, had been completely stripped away.
The gathered elders gasped. Some tried to intervene, but the moment they moved, an invisible force crushed them to the ground.
Shao Xian did not even spare them a glance.
He stepped forward, his voice calm.
"This sect once claimed dominion over these lands. But from this moment forward, you kneel beneath me."
His golden eyes burned with an unfathomable light.
"And if you refuse—"
With a flick of his wrist, the sect master's body crumbled into dust.
The Desolate Thunder Sect fell into absolute silence.