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The heavens trembled as Yang Kai descended from the sky.
His robe of black and blue fluttered like a storm cloud, his eyes sharp as lightning. His boots touched the ground with a faint echo, and the entire valley seemed to draw its breath.
His gaze fell on the lifeless body lying not far away. The wrinkles of the Medicine King's face were now still forever, his hands that once brewed countless elixirs stiff and cold.
Yang Kai's chest tightened.
"Medicine King…" his heart whispered, sorrow cutting deeper than any blade. "You were not my master in name, but in truth you taught me as one. You guided me, healed me, and even help me to improve my cultivation… And now you lie here—"
His eyes turned, locking on the figure standing proudly before the Myriad Drug Pond. Bai Xuan.
That calm, mocking smile on Bai Xuan's lips was like salt on an open wound.
Yang Kai's voice rang out, sharp and trembling with rage.
"Who are you? Why did you kill him? Did he wrong you in any way?"
But Bai Xuan only tilted his head slightly, his eyes cold as winter steel.
"I do not need to explain myself to anyone," he said, voice carrying through the valley like a cruel wind. "Least of all to you. You are not qualified to question me."
Mockery lingered in his gaze.
Yang Kai's fists tightened until veins rose along his arm. His aura surged outward, a massive tide of spiritual pressure flooding the valley. Pebbles cracked beneath the weight, trees bent as if in storm. The Blood Warriors behind him all straightened, their expressions solemn.
"Arrogant fiend!" Yang Kai thundered. "You dare claim the life of one who harmed no one, and yet you sneer at me? You will pay with your blood!"
He raised his hand and shouted:
"Blood Warriors—strike!"
At once, six armored figures moved, their footfalls shaking the ground. Their blades gleamed with blood light, their eyes sharp with killing intent.
Bai Xuan's heart stirred, not with fear but with exhilaration. His lips curled upward.
"So… the famed Blood Warriors of the Yang family. Let me see if your name is as heavy as the stories say."
He lifted his sword, his aura exploding like a rising volcano. His voice carried across the battlefield like rolling thunder.
"Come then! I will show you the price of standing before me!"
The clash began.
Steel rang against steel. Qi exploded like crashing waves. Each strike echoed like drums of war, shaking the valley's bones.
Bai Xuan moved like a phantom, sometimes striking with a sword slash faster than lightning—his "Azra Sword" slicing through armor, leaving trails of blood. At times his fists shone, imbued with "Sword Heart Fist," shattering weapons with pure force. Poison mist spilled from his sleeves, corroding the ground, forcing the Blood Warriors to leap back. Arrays of shifting light bloomed at his feet, snares and illusions weaving, confusing his enemies.
One by one, Blood Warriors fell, their cries echoing in disbelief.
Bai Xuan's thoughts burned like fire.
"Hmph… just as I expected. These Blood Warriors are far weaker now than in the later years of the small world. Their training is incomplete, their bloodlines not yet fully awakened. At most, they stand at sixth stage first or third layer—the same as me. But against my arts, they are nothing but paper walls."
He slashed down another, his voice whispering coldly in his heart:
"At this level… I am invincible for them."
Yet through the sound of clashing blades came another voice—their fear.
The Blood Warriors, in their hearts, trembled.
"Who is this man? Even though we fight together, he cuts us down like ants. His arts are strange, unknown, poisonous… We have never seen techniques like these. Who trained him? Where does his power come from?"
Their doubt grew, like cracks spreading across stone.
And then—without warning—Yang Kai struck.
He moved like a shadow in the storm, his steps swift as thunder, his aura sharper than a spear. A sudden burst of killing intent flared, and a crimson blade descended.
Bang! Bang!
The clash rang out as Bai Xuan barely raised his sword in time. Sparks scattered into the night air. The impact drove him backward, his feet carving trenches in the earth.
When he looked up, his gaze fell upon Yang Kai's weapon—gleaming red, dripping faint light like fresh blood. And in the young master's other hand, a strange crimson flower bloomed, its petals glowing with ominous energy.
Bai Xuan's eyes narrowed. His lips curved into a thin smile.
"So, this is your path, Yang Kai… A blood sword, and a flower drenched in life force. Hah! Do you even realize what you hold? These are forged from slaughter, tempered in death essence. A demonic art if I ever saw one!"
His voice rang out deliberately, echoing across the valley.
The crowd that had gathered—disciples, wanderers, loose cultivators—all stiffened. Shock flickered in their eyes as whispers broke among them.
"Demonic…? Could it be?"
"Impossible. Young Master Yang, a demonic cultivator?"
"No, it cannot be… yet those items…"
Yang Kai's jaw tightened. His grip on the sword trembled slightly, not with fear but fury.
"Silence!" he barked, his voice like thunder. "Do not twist your venomous tongue! These are my treasures, won through trial and battle. I have killed, yes—but I have never strayed from my heart!"
Bai Xuan's mocking laughter cut him like knives.
"Your heart? Hah! Tell that to the souls screaming within that blade. Do you think anyone will believe you? They see with their eyes, not with your excuses. Deny it all you want—truth is a seed of doubt, and I have already planted it."
His voice dropped low, yet every syllable was clear as bell chimes.
"Mark my words: when you attempt to ascend to the sixth stage, a dark heavenly calamity will descend upon you. That will be the heavens themselves proving your demonic nature."
He swept his gaze toward the crowd, his eyes glinting like a serpent's.
"You may not believe me now. But wait… and you will see."
The Blood Warriors hesitated, glancing at one another. For the first time, suspicion darkened their eyes as they looked upon their own young master.
One of them muttered under his breath, voice barely restrained.
"Could… could it be true? He is of High Heaven Pavilion… and was it not declared a demonic sect by the Eight Great Families? Rumors say their leader secretly trains in forbidden arts…"
The words spread like wildfire, each syllable carrying poison.
The disciples and onlookers began to murmur louder.
"High Heaven Pavilion… demonic?"
"If it is true, then…"
"Is this the reason the Medicine King tolerated him? Were they both allied in secret?"
Yang Kai's expression flickered, a storm brewing in his chest. He looked around and saw suspicion in the eyes of his own men, men who had fought at his side.
"Medicine King… you guided me with kindness," he thought bitterly, "and yet because of your death, even my loyalty is questioned."
Bai Xuan's heart laughed silently.
"Perfect. Just as I planned. According to the fate I know, Yang Kai should have obtained this blood sword from a secret island. But now… I have forced it into the open, turned it into the proof of his corruption. His name will rot. His future will crumble. The great force he was destined to build will be nothing but sand in the wind."
And still, aloud, he said only one more phrase, his voice soft yet heavy with venom:
"This is the truth you do not wish to face. Medicine King was tied to the demonic cult, that is why I killed him. That is why demonic cultivators left him untouched."
The valley went silent for a long moment.
Then, slowly, heads began to turn—not toward Bai Xuan, but toward Yang Kai. Eyes filled not only with confusion, but also doubt. Doubt sharper than any blade.
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