Shao Xian sat upon the throne of the Desolate Thunder Sect, his presence radiating an undeniable authority. The once-proud elders and disciples knelt before him, their bodies trembling under the weight of his silent dominance.
The grand hall, once a symbol of the sect's might, now echoed with nothing but the sound of their ragged breaths. The banners of the previous sect master still hung from the high pillars, but they now felt like relics of a bygone era.
He tapped a finger against the armrest, sending arcs of golden lightning through the structure. The throne itself responded, the inscriptions along its surface lighting up as if recognizing its new master.
A heavy silence loomed over the hall before Shao Xian finally spoke.
"Tell me," his voice was calm, yet it carried the weight of judgment, "who among you is fit to lead in my absence?"
The elders exchanged uneasy glances. None dared to raise their heads.
Finally, a gaunt, white-haired elder mustered the courage to speak. "M-mighty one," he stammered, "we... we have always been ruled by the strongest. And now, none among us can match even a fraction of your power. There is no one more worthy than you to lead."
Shao Xian chuckled, a sound devoid of warmth. "Do not misunderstand me, old man. I will not waste my time governing every aspect of this place. You will obey my will, but I require a figurehead to manage daily affairs."
He leaned forward slightly, his golden eyes scanning the cowering figures. "If no one steps forward, I will simply choose at random. And if my choice proves unworthy…" His gaze darkened, "they will die."
Tension filled the air.
Then, a man slowly rose to his feet. Unlike the others, he did not tremble. His face was calm, his expression unreadable. He was middle-aged, with streaks of silver running through his dark hair. His robes, though scorched from the earlier battle, were still intact.
"I, Elder Zhao Feng, offer myself."
The other elders stiffened, glancing at him in shock. Some seemed relieved that someone had spoken, while others appeared resentful.
Shao Xian regarded him with mild amusement. "You do not fear death?"
Zhao Feng bowed slightly. "Fear is meaningless before absolute strength. If I am unworthy, then I will die by your hands, as is the way of this world."
A smirk tugged at the corner of Shao Xian's lips. "Interesting. Then tell me, Zhao Feng, why should I choose you?"
Zhao Feng met his gaze without hesitation. "Because I understand power, and I know how to wield it in governance. The sect does not need a master who only crushes, but one who can build. If you seek a tool to maintain control while you pursue greater heights, I am the best choice."
Shao Xian was silent for a moment, then he laughed. "You are either wise or foolish. Either way, I will give you the chance to prove yourself."
He flicked his hand, and a bolt of golden lightning shot forward, striking Zhao Feng in the chest. The elder stumbled back, his body convulsing as the energy coursed through him.
The others gasped, expecting him to collapse. But instead, Zhao Feng gritted his teeth and withstood the pain. Slowly, he straightened himself, sweat dripping down his brow, but his expression remained resolute.
Shao Xian's smile widened. "Good. You are now the Grand Elder of the Desolate Thunder Sect. Manage this place in my name, and ensure it does not become weak again."
Zhao Feng bowed deeply. "I will not disappoint, my lord."
Shao Xian rose from the throne, his golden robes flowing behind him. "From this day forth, the Desolate Thunder Sect no longer exists as it once did. It is now the Throne of Thunder—a domain that answers only to me."
He turned to the gathered disciples. "You have two choices: serve me, or leave. If you leave, you will never be allowed to step foot here again. If you stay, you will discard your old beliefs and embrace strength above all else."
Murmurs spread among them, but no one dared to refuse.
"Good," Shao Xian said, his tone final. "Then let the weak perish, and the strong rise."