The ruin loomed ahead, half-swallowed by the molten terrain, its weathered stone walls veined with glowing cracks as if the heart of the realm had begun bleeding into its structure. Broken statues leaned in the shadows, their draconic and bestial visages eroded beyond recognition. The air shifted here—not just heat, but an ancient, stagnant weight that clung to the lungs.
In front of the massive, vine-entwined doors, a cluster of disciples from various sects stood in tense formation. Some clutched their weapons with white-knuckled grips, others whispered sharp exchanges under their breath. Their gazes locked on the sealed entrance as though something inside was drawing them closer… or keeping them out.
Haotian slowed his pace. His eyes flicked over each group—identifying their strengths, the injuries they tried to hide, the restless shifting of their feet. A subtle push of his perception brushed past them like a ripple over still water, gauging intent.
Beside him, Ru Mei stiffened, then her breath caught. Without hesitation, she broke into a run. "Senior Sister!"
A woman in jade-green robes turned sharply, eyes widening. "Ru Mei!" She barely had time to brace before Ru Mei collided into her, arms thrown tight around her waist. The relief in the older disciple's face softened the hard edge in her stance.
"You… are you alright?"
Ru Mei nodded quickly. "I am. But the others… they didn't make it." Her voice trembled for a heartbeat, then steadied. "If not for the Burning Sun Sect, I would not be here."
The senior sister's gaze shifted past Ru Mei to the group approaching. Her eyes lingered on Haotian—the quiet composure, the presence that seemed to command the air around him without effort. She stepped forward, cupping her hands and bowing deeply.
"I am Senior Sister Yue Lan of the Cloudveil Spirit Sect. You have my deepest thanks for saving Ru Mei. I will remember this debt."
Haotian inclined his head slightly. "It was nothing worth a debt. She was in danger—there was no reason to stand by." His tone was level, neither warm nor dismissive, but carried enough weight to leave no doubt in his sincerity.
He shifted his gaze to the sealed temple doors. "What is the situation here?"
Yue Lan straightened, expression hardening. "Something stirs within. The doors have been sealed since our arrival. Several disciples tried to force them open earlier… and paid the price." She glanced toward a small group nursing fresh wounds in the shade of a pillar. "Whatever is inside… it's not dormant anymore."
Even as she spoke, a deep vibration rolled through the stone underfoot. The massive doors shuddered once, then again—dust falling from the lintel in thin streams. The air thickened with the promise of movement.
Haotian's hand flexed loosely at his side. "Then we'll see for ourselves."
The ground quaked again—harder this time—sending hairline fractures racing through the obsidian flagstones.
THUUM… THUUM… THUUM…
The sealed doors bulged inward with each impact, as though something massive on the other side was slamming against them. The glowing cracks along the ruin's walls flared brighter, molten light bleeding into the carvings of ancient beasts and celestial patterns. The air rippled with a low, predatory hum that clawed at the nerves.
Without warning—
BOOM!
The twin slabs of stone blew outward in an explosion of dust and burning fragments. A shockwave tore across the courtyard, scattering loose tiles and forcing the unprepared disciples to shield their faces. Several stumbled back, coughing against the sudden cloud.
From within the yawning blackness, a pair of molten-gold eyes ignited. The heat pouring from the doorway rose sharply, suffused with the copper tang of something primal. The ground smoked where its breath touched air.
A silhouette emerged—massive, horned, its limbs corded with muscle that glistened like living magma. Charred, metallic hide flexed with every movement, and each step it took left molten depressions in the floor. Chains dangled from its wrists and neck, their ends melted and twisted, as if it had broken free from bindings forged in a hotter hell than this realm.
A whisper rippled through the disciples.
"…Hellmaw Guardian…"
The beast's gaze swept the crowd, lingering on the wounded, the fearful… then fixed on Haotian with an almost intelligent malice.
It didn't roar. It charged.
KRRAAASH!
The stone beneath its feet shattered under the sheer force of its acceleration, heat waves distorting the air in its wake.
Haotian stepped forward, his expression unchanged, letting the pressure wash over him. The moment the creature entered striking range—he moved.
The stone plaza trembled.
From the shadowed threshold of the ruin temple, the Hellmaw Guardian surged forward—an abomination of obsidian hide and jagged bone ridges, its fanged maw yawning wide enough to swallow a man whole. Hot, fetid breath rolled out in waves, the stench of ancient decay mingled with searing heat.
Disciples scattered in panic. Screams cut through the echo of shattering tiles as the monster's claws raked through the air, each strike strong enough to pulp stone columns into dust.
Haotian didn't move at first. His golden eyes narrowed, gauging its gait, the pulse of its killing intent, the swirl of violent qi in the air.
He turned his head just enough for his voice to cut through the chaos, sharp and calm."Fall back. All of you."
Ru Mei, Lianhua, and the six guards didn't argue. They knew the tone—unyielding, final. Their boots scraped over the fractured tiles as they retreated, pulling away from the line of impact. Several nearby disciples, seeing an opening, followed suit… but Haotian's gaze caught the subtle twitch in their hands, the shift of their shoulders.
They weren't fleeing. They were positioning.
His lips curved—cold, without humor.
The Hellmaw roared, lurching forward.
Haotian stepped in, bare hands at his sides, the air warping around his fingers as solar fire bloomed across his skin. No steel. No forged edge. Just pure elemental will, shaped into a burning gauntlet of gold and emerald flame.
The first strike was a blur—an open palm crashing into the Guardian's jaw with a sound like a thunderclap, snapping its head sideways and sending ripples through its monstrous frame. Before it could recover, Haotian pivoted, bringing his other palm up in a spiraling arc. Water and ice flooded from his qi channels, instantly steaming as it met the Hellmaw's inner heat. The beast staggered, frost crackling across its ribs.
A flicker—behind him.
The "retreating" disciples lunged.
Haotian didn't even turn. His foot swept back, not to block, but to detonate a wave of condensed wind and flame. The air exploded, hurling them into the stone wall with enough force to leave them slumped and unmoving.
He exhaled once, the steam curling around his shoulders like a mantle.
The Hellmaw recovered with a furious bellow, charging again. This time Haotian met it head-on, stepping into its shadow. His right palm struck the beast's chest—no weapon, no visible blade—only a burst of elemental resonance so pure that the stone beneath them fractured in a spiderweb pattern. The creature's massive frame lurched upward, suspended for a heartbeat in the air.
Then Haotian twisted his wrist.
The frost spread in a chain reaction. The Guardian's roar froze mid-echo, its hide locking in brittle plates before shattering apart in a cascade of steaming shards. What landed on the tiles was no longer a monster—just a heap of lifeless crystal and ash.
Haotian lowered his hand, not sparing the corpse a glance. His attention was already sweeping the edges of the plaza for the next threat.
The crystal and ash hadn't even finished scattering before the earth answered with a deeper, heavier rumble.
The temple gates, long-sealed under runes of gold and black, split down the middle with a sharp CRACK. From within, the gloom churned—not with dust, but with movement.
The ground shuddered as a second Guardian emerged—larger than the first, its shoulders armored with jagged plates like volcanic rock. The air warped from the heat rolling off its body, and molten drool hissed as it splattered onto the shattered plaza.
Haotian's eyes narrowed. No rest. No reprieve.
The moment the beast's talons carved into the tiles, he moved. One step—vanish. His form blurred, leaving only a ripple of displaced air before reappearing above the Guardian's head. Both palms pressed together, qi coiling in a spiral between them—wind and lightning braided into a single, writhing sphere.
He slammed it down.
The impact detonated like a skyfall strike, the shockwave flattening nearby rubble and snapping stone pillars clean in half. The Guardian buckled under the blow, molten armor flaring as cracks spidered across its hide.
From the edge of the plaza, two sect disciples—emboldened by the chaos—darted forward, aiming straight for Haotian's flank. He felt them coming before they even crossed half the distance. A twist of his hand, a sharp downward motion—gravity bloomed around them like an invisible fist, crushing them to their knees. Their blades clattered uselessly to the floor.
The Guardian roared in fury, lunging blindly through the dust. Haotian ducked under its claw, driving his palm into its exposed underbelly. Flame and shadow erupted point-blank, carving a hole through its frame from within. The creature staggered, its molten blood raining across the stone in sizzling arcs, before collapsing in a molten heap.
The rumble didn't stop.
From deep within the temple, more roars answered—dozens this time. The air thickened with killing intent, and the glow of burning eyes began to multiply in the dark beyond the shattered gates.
Haotian exhaled once, steady, his stance lowering."Fall back further. Now."
Inside the darkness, the true threat was waking.
The molten corpse of the Guardian had barely slumped to the ground when the temple's darkness split with a sound like tearing sky.
RRRRAAAAAAGHHHH!
It wasn't one roar—it was a chorus.
Dozens of burning eyes flared inside the gloom, shifting, surging, each attached to hulking frames that scraped and clawed at the fractured gates. The runes lining the threshold cracked apart in a chain of shattering booms, spilling raw spiritual light across the plaza. From the breach poured Hellmaw spawn—scaled and tusked, their hides a mix of molten stone and shadow ichor, each radiating killing intent that churned the air.
The ground split under their weight as they surged forward in a wave.
Haotian didn't wait. In one breath, his qi flared—violent, unrestrained, a spiraling fusion of flame, lightning, wind, and shadow that warped the air into shimmering currents. The pressure alone drove nearby disciples stumbling back, hands clamped over their ears as the hum of power became a deafening roar.
The first three beasts lunged. Haotian's palm lashed out—wind markers appeared on their chests mid-motion, his chi burning into the sigils before they could react. They exploded in a triple blossom of spiraling air blades, shredding them into molten chunks mid-leap.
The wave didn't stop.
A dozen more surged in from his flanks, jaws wide. Haotian stamped the ground—gravity markers spread like ripples through the plaza, slamming half the pack into the stone with bone-snapping force. He was already moving, body blurring into Ghost Step, reappearing above the pinned enemies with a downward strike.
Flame roared from his palm, compressed into a needle-thin drill of fire and lightning. It punched through skull after skull in a line, detonating in a chain of explosions that lit the plaza in white-gold fire.
Still, they came.
The survivors howled, scrambling over each other in blind frenzy. Haotian spread both arms wide—shadow markers spiraled into the ground beneath them, erupting into jagged spikes of obsidian light that skewered and flung bodies into the air. He twisted his torso, launching a spinning kick that birthed a storm-ring slash of pure lightning, vaporizing the midair remains before they hit the ground.
"Move! All of you—out!" he barked over the chaos, not even looking back.
The last beasts in the breach were the largest—four hulking brutes with armor like jagged mountains. Haotian's aura swelled until the plaza seemed too small to contain it, and the air snapped like an overdrawn bowstring.
He crouched. Vanished. Reappeared in the middle of their formation.
Eighteen strikes followed. Not one wasted.Not one survived.
The temple's threshold finally stilled, its horde annihilated in under a minute—leaving nothing but molten craters, cracked stone, and the echo of Haotian's breathing.
The others stared in silence, unable to step forward.
The air split with a roar that sounded like mountains grinding together.
The Hellmaw Guardian lunged from the temple's threshold, a black-scaled beast whose skull-like head split open into three layered maws, each lined with fangs dripping with molten ichor. The ground buckled under its charge, runes along the temple's ancient gate flaring a deep, ominous red.
"Retreat!" Haotian's voice cracked through the chaos like steel on steel. He didn't need to look to see his team's hesitation—his tone brooked no argument. "Fall back to the ridge. I'll cover the rear."
He could already feel the other sect disciples' killing intent snaking through the crowd like venom. They weren't just fleeing danger—they were stalking him and his team, waiting for a clean angle to strike once he was pinned.
Not today.
A whisper of breath, and his body blurred forward. CRACK! The heel of his palm met the jaw of the closest would-be assassin, embedding a Fire Sigil into their collarbone. Before the second could react, a backhanded strike slammed a Metal Sigil into their chestplate, the resonance ringing out like a temple bell. A twist of his hips—BAM!—and the last fool in reach received a Light Sigil across the visor, the glare blinding them instantly. All three detonated mid-motion, crumpling into unconscious heaps before they could even draw breath for a counter.
The Hellmaw Guardian's shadow swallowed the ground.
Haotian met its leap head-on, slamming his bare palm into the flagstones. Five Sigils flared in sequence—Fire, Water, Metal, Wood, Light—spreading like a blooming, spiraling flower beneath him. The instant the beast landed, the trap came alive.
FOOM! Fire erupted in a searing ring, forcing the Guardian to recoil—just as jets of high-pressure Water burst upward, hammering its chest and breaking its momentum. The moment it stumbled, Metal resonance shot upward in spearing arcs, carving through its underbelly with razor precision. Vines as thick as chains WHIPPED out from Wood Sigils, anchoring around its limbs, each one reinforced with iron thorns. Then—SHHHHK!—the Light Sigils detonated, flooding the field in blinding brilliance that tore through the beast's shadow-carapace and left it reeling.
And then the temple itself screamed.
The gate split wide, vomiting a tide of enemies—demonspawn in bone masks, skeletal beast-wolves, and cloaked zealots wielding hooked glaives. They poured into the clearing in a churning wave, drawn to the sigil light like moths to a killing flame.
Haotian exhaled once, and stopped holding back.
He moved like a storm given human shape—palms striking in rapid sequence, each touch searing a marker into flesh, armor, or ground. Fire Sigils burst in controlled arcs, turning the first ranks into smoldering wreckage. Water Sigils detonated under their feet, toppling entire clusters into slick chaos. Metal Sigils sliced through weapons and armor alike, each strike ringing with fatal finality. Wood Sigils sprouted spearing roots from the very stones, skewering two zealots before slamming them into their fellows. Light Sigils erupted in strobes, leaving the rear ranks dazed and stumbling right into the killing fields of the other elements.
He was everywhere at once—sigils chaining in cascading detonations, one triggering the next in a rhythm that felt less like fighting and more like conducting a symphony of destruction. Every explosion, every flash, every burst of growth and steel fed into the next, until the temple's steps were a slaughter-ground bathed in firelight and shadow.
The Hellmaw Guardian tried to rise again.
Haotian's shadow fell over it, palm already extended. The sigils etched themselves into its exposed skull in a perfect five-point star.
"Fall."
The detonations overlapped—FIRE, WATER, METAL, WOOD, LIGHT—each slamming into the next in an unbroken cascade. The shockwave rippled through the temple, cracking ancient stone and scattering the last of the enemy swarm like leaves in a typhoon. When the dust cleared, the Guardian lay still, its triple maws frozen mid-roar, vines and molten metal locking it to the ground like a trophy to his will.
Haotian didn't slow, didn't breathe. The gate was still open—and what had come through so far was only the beginning.
The roar that followed was not the bellow of one guardian—it was the voice of the temple itself, as if the stone walls had learned to scream. The shattered gates of the inner sanctum trembled, ancient runes bleeding light as the floor cracked open. From the gaping breach poured the next wave—an unending torrent of warped beasts, armored revenants, and shadow-born abominations. Their forms shimmered between flesh and ether, each step pounding like war drums, each howl carrying the weight of a thousand curses.
Haotian's gaze sharpened, golden eyes narrowing to slits. The sigil chains still burned along his arms from the last clash, the five elements—Fire, Water, Metal, Wood, and Light—circling his forearms like living brands. With a sharp breath, he stepped forward, the ground shattering under his footfall.
The first wave struck.
Flames erupted in a spiral—Fire Sigil Chain—scorching the front lines and reducing half a dozen beasts to cinders. Steam hissed as Water Sigil Chain coiled up his left arm, bursting outward in high-pressure torrents that carved through armor and bone alike. He pivoted mid-flow, letting Metal Sigil Chain lance forward in a blinding arc—razor-sharp threads of gleaming steel shearing a ten-meter swath through the incoming horde.
The creatures pushed harder.
Roots erupted from beneath the cracked stone—Wood Sigil Chain—binding legs, piercing through shadow forms, and dragging them into the earth with snapping force. The trapped enemies were met by a descending column of Light Sigil Chain—a blinding spear of radiance that disintegrated them where they stood, leaving nothing but falling motes.
They kept coming. More and more, until the battlefield was a maelstrom of claw, fang, and steel. The air shook with impacts; the floor bled dust and heat. Haotian's movements became a seamless dance—fire scorching, water cutting, metal cleaving, wood binding, light purging—each element folding into the next with no pause, no breath wasted. The sigil chains around him thickened, their glow fusing into a halo of rotating elemental seals, their resonance rattling the ruins.
Behind him, Lianhua and the others stood tight, the only thing keeping the flood from swallowing them whole being the wall of elemental destruction Haotian maintained. The noise was deafening—the crash of waves, the crack of lightning through metal, the roar of firestorms—and yet within it all, his voice cut through, calm and precise:
"Stay close. If they break the line even once, it's over."
The temple's core pulse intensified—the true heart of the sanctum awakening—its ancient malice flooding the air. The next wave wasn't just monsters—it was the commanders of the horde, each radiating power enough to rival the Hellmaw Guardian itself. The stone beneath Haotian's feet began to fracture under the sheer spiritual pressure rolling toward them.
And still, he didn't retreat. His eyes locked on the emerging leaders. The sigil chains around him flared, brighter than before, as he shifted his stance for a god-tier survival onslaught.
"Good," he said softly. "Now… let's finish this."
The stone gates of the core sanctum exploded outward in a shockwave that tore through the battlefield like a hurricane of rubble and killing intent. Five silhouettes emerged through the dust—towering, armored monstrosities, each distinct, each emanating a force that made the lesser beasts recoil in instinctive fear.
The first was a horned juggernaut of obsidian flesh, wreathed in molten seams—its steps splattering rivers of magma.The second, a skeletal wraith plated in gold and black, wielding a glaive whose edge dripped shadows.The third, a serpentine warlord with four arms, each holding a different bladed weapon.The fourth, a giant plated in scales that shimmered between metal and stone, its fists like siege towers.And the fifth—a priest-like figure, tall and robed, whose eyeless face wept streams of black ichor, each drop birthing tiny screeching shades.
The very air turned heavy, as if the temple itself bowed to these commanders.
Haotian didn't wait. The five-element sigil chains around his arms ignited like a second sun, the Fire Chain coiling tighter and bursting forward in a spiral blaze that detonated against the molten juggernaut, scattering chunks of its armor in molten spray. Water Chain lashed upward, snapping into a pressurized whip that carved through the skeletal wraith's glaive shaft, the severed weapon dissolving into smoke.
The serpentine warlord lunged, four weapons blurring in a lethal dance—but Haotian's Metal Chain answered with a sudden lattice of shimmering steel threads, catching every blade and twisting them until the metal screamed and bent. A heartbeat later, Wood Chain erupted from the cracked ground, binding the serpent's lower body, roots tightening until bones snapped beneath scale.
The priest-figure began to chant, the air filling with the wail of newborn shades—until Light Chain flared in a column from Haotian's palm, swallowing the figure in blinding brilliance. The black ichor boiled away, and the shades dissolved into harmless motes.
But the commanders weren't so easily felled. The molten juggernaut surged back to its feet, magma dripping from its fists. The skeletal wraith reformed its weapon from raw shadow. The serpent split the roots with an explosive twist. The scale giant roared and slammed its fists down, the shockwave cracking the battlefield like glass.
Haotian's stance shifted. His chains stopped revolving—they locked into formation, sigil seals rotating in fixed rings above and around him. The air hummed with the compression of spiritual energy.
They charged together.
The world became a blur of elemental annihilation—Fire roaring like a sunburst, Water cutting in arcs sharp enough to shear bone, Metal flashing in crescent storms, Wood bursting upward to crush and ensnare, and Light lancing through the air like divine judgment. Each element struck not in isolation, but in relentless succession—every blow chaining into the next before the enemy could recover.
The molten juggernaut's armor caved under Metal's cleave; the skeletal wraith was swept away in a torrent of boiling Water; the serpent was torn in half by Wood's crushing vice; the scale giant's chest was cored open by Fire's eruption; the priest was banished entirely by Light's purging column.
Yet for every commander struck down, the breach behind them widened—more poured out. Hundreds. Thousands. The temple's core was an endless wound, and the flood would not stop until the heart itself was destroyed.
Haotian stood alone in the gap, elemental chains burning like halos. He knew—this would not end until he went through them, straight into the sanctum's bleeding core.
"Lianhua," he called without looking back, voice cutting through the chaos. "Guard the others. No one follows me in."
And then he stepped forward into the endless tide.