Wind That Devoured a God
The sect had not yet recovered from the chaos of the Evil God's descent.
The earth still bore the scars—vast fractures carved by divine force, stones melted and reshaped by lightning and corrupted qi. The air itself felt wounded, carrying the bitter scent of scorched ground and shattered cultivation paths. Disciples moved softly through the halls, steps careful, voices hushed, as if sound alone might summon another calamity.
Even the Saints were not at ease.
They sat in strained silence, their once-stable auras wavering like flickering flames. Though Xiao Yan had healed their shattered cores and restored their lives, the memory of helplessness clung to them. They had faced something beyond gods—and survived only because one had risen among them.
And yet—
Calamity was not finished.
The Night of Unease
Mi-An could not sleep.
Her eyes stared into the darkness, unblinking, her chest rising and falling too fast. Again and again, her mind replayed the same image—Xiao Yan falling beneath divine blows, standing up through sheer will, refusing to bow even when gods struck him down.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Her fingers clenched into the sheets.
She rose from her bed, heart tight with unease, when a faint disturbance brushed against her senses—subtle, deliberate.
Someone was there.
Before she could react, the curtains shifted.
Nem.
He stepped into the room as if he belonged there, movements smooth, unhurried. His eyes glinted faintly in the dim light—playful, almost amused, yet carrying something cold beneath the surface. He moved closer, leaned down beside her bed, his fingers brushing the edge of her pillow as though testing boundaries.
As his face neared—
Mi-An's eyes snapped open.
She reacted on instinct.
Her foot slammed into his chest with explosive force.
Nem flew backward, crashing through the doorway, wood splintering under the impact. Mi-An was already moving, fury blazing as she leapt after him, landing hard in the corridor.
"What do you think you're doing?!" she shouted, killing intent radiating from her body.
Nem steadied himself, dusting his robes as laughter slipped from his lips, low and mocking.
"Relax," he said lightly. "It was only a joke."
Before she could answer, hurried footsteps echoed through the hall.
Xiao Yan and Saint Lu Qi emerged from the inner chambers, mid-discussion. The other Saints had already returned to the sect, drawn by the shockwave of a god's birth.
Nem straightened instantly, expression sharpening.
"Hundreds of demons are here," he said calmly. "They demand to see Xiao Yan."
Demons Who Begged
Xiao Yan followed Nem outside.
What awaited them silenced the entire sect.
Demons—hundreds upon hundreds—knelt across the courtyard, heads pressed to the ground, bodies trembling violently. Their auras flickered weakly, unstable and fractured. Some clutched their chests, others convulsed as cracks spread visibly through their inner cores.
"Please save us!" they cried in unison.
"Our lord is draining us!"
"Our cores are collapsing!"
Even the disciples recoiled in shock.
Xiao Yan stepped forward slowly, eyes scanning them.
They spoke the truth.
Without hesitation, he raised his hand.
Divine energy poured outward—gentle, radiant, impossibly vast. It flowed into the demons' shattered cores, stabilizing them, knitting fractures that should never have healed. Cores that were moments from annihilation steadied and strengthened under his touch.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Then Xiao Yan spoke, his voice calm and unquestionable.
"Find them shelter."
Nem nodded once.
That was when Mi-An arrived.
Her gaze locked onto Nem—standing among kneeling demons.
Something inside her broke.
"You knave!" she screamed, shoving him with all her strength.
"Mi-An!" Xiao Yan shouted. "Stay back!"
She didn't hear him.
Her pupils darkened completely. A crimson glow bled into her eyes as her aura surged wildly, spiraling out of control. The air screamed as she rose into the sky, lifted by pure, violent power.
Her hands lifted.
Energy gathered—dense, lethal, absolute.
It was aimed directly at Nem.
Xiao Yan did not hesitate.
He moved.
He placed himself between them.
The attack struck him instead.
The world shook.
The ground beneath them shattered like glass as Xiao Yan was hurled backward, slamming into the earth. Blood spilled from his mouth, staining the stone beneath him.
The power dissipated.
Mi-An screamed and fell to her knees beside him, hands shaking as she cradled his broken body.
"Xiao Yan! Why? Why would you do that?!" she sobbed.
He smiled faintly.
"Mi-An… don't cry," he whispered, his voice barely more than breath.
"Looks like… I'm turning into wind. The prophecy… was real after all."
"No… no, don't say that," she begged, clutching him desperately. "Please don't leave me."
"Let me… go now…"
His body dissolved.
Not into ash.
Not into light.
Into wind.
It scattered silently into the air—gentle, weightless, irreversible.
"XIAO YAN!!!"
The scream tore through the sect like a blade.
Saint Lu Qi stood frozen, his voice hollow.
"Mi-An… why did you do it?"
She collapsed completely, shaking, her voice broken.
"I'm sorry… it's my fault. I mistook him for someone else…"
Her gaze drifted to Nem.
He turned away, eyes wet, jaw clenched, and left without a word.
Di'or followed him in silence.
Saint Lu Qi departed soon after, unable to face the devastation.
Only the wind remained—
and the emptiness left behind by a god who chose to protect, even unto erasure.