Western Mountain Range — Base of Xuan Long's Fortress
The sky hung heavy with storm clouds. Mist curled along the jagged rocks, and wind howled like a mourning spirit across the cliffs. Below the steep slopes of Xuan Long's mountain stronghold, the earth began to tremble—not from nature, but from men.
Footsteps. Hundreds of them.
The rhythmic pounding of boots echoed up the ridges, mixed with the clatter of armor and the hiss of drawn blades. Spiritual pressure thickened the air. Birds scattered. Animals fled. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
One hundred and fifty cultivators marched forward, clad in black leathers marked with crimson fangs. They moved in perfect formation, war banners fluttering behind them. At their head strode a towering figure in crimson-and-black robes, his body radiating heat, fury, and strength. His aura distorted the very air around him.
Qi Vein Level 10.
The Blood Fang Bandits had arrived.
At the base of the mountain, the leader halted and looked upward.
"BASTARD!" he roared, voice splitting the silence like thunder. "COME OUT AND DIE!"
His voice echoed between cliffs, shaking pebbles loose from ledges.
Laughter rose among his men.
"He's finished today."
"Even Foundation Realm cultivators wouldn't face all of us at once."
"A brat hiding in the mountains? He won't survive this sunset."
The confidence in their voices was absolute.
Inside the mountain stronghold, deep within the fortified cavern base, Xuan Long stood calmly with his team. The dim glow of torches lit the room with flickering warmth. No one panicked. No one ran.
Only silence.
Hei Mo looked up from his kneeling position beside the stone wall, where his illusions shimmered faintly.
"Master," he muttered, "there are too many. I can't cast illusions on all of them."
Xuan Long didn't flinch. He raised one hand—a single gesture, calm and slow.
"You don't have to."
His eyes, usually calm as still water, narrowed slightly. A red glow pulsed behind them like embers under ice.
"Mu Chen. Hei Mo. You and the demi-humans handle anyone below Qi Vein Level 8."
His gaze shifted to the cave entrance.
"I'll deal with the rest."
No one questioned him.
No one doubted.
They nodded and prepared.
Outside — The Battle Begins
Wind swept across the cliffs. The mountain loomed like a silent god. Then, from the entrance, a single figure emerged.
Xuan Long stepped forward, his robes dark and ragged, his face expressionless. No spiritual pressure surrounded him. No energy surged from his body. He looked like a man walking into a storm with empty hands.
The Blood Fang Leader squinted, confused.
"What is this?" he muttered. "No aura? No pressure? Some sort of illusion?"
His eyes fell on Hei Mo, who appeared behind Xuan Long in shadowed robes, tattoos glowing faintly with violet light.
"That one… he's the demon cultivator," the leader said, his voice rising. "He killed my men!"
His gaze snapped back to Xuan Long.
"Then who the hell are you?!"
His anger erupted.
"Kill them. Kill them all."
The front line moved—thirty cultivators charging with practiced formation.
Blades glinted.
Talismans ignited.
Spiritual arts surged—flames, lightning, wind blades roaring across the field toward the lone figure.
Xuan Long didn't move.
The attacks struck.
But instead of impact, they dissolved. A pulse of invisible energy rippled outwards.
FWOOM.
A pause.
Then—detonation.
[Devour Activated — Energy Conversion: Complete]
BOOM.
The entire barrage was reversed. The gathered energy exploded outward in a shockwave that tore through the attackers like a divine backlash.
Twenty-two bodies vanished in a storm of blood and shredded metal.
The survivors screamed, falling to the ground, their limbs mangled and qi shattered.
"What—what was that?!"
The formation broke.
The Blood Fang Leader's jaw dropped.
"That wasn't an illusion… He absorbed all of it? Absorbed everything?"
"What are you?!"
Xuan Long didn't answer. His expression hadn't changed. His robes fluttered gently as the last of the energy faded into the sky.
Then he spoke—softly, yet every syllable echoed like a blade drawn across bone.
"Now, you will understand what you tried to destroy."
A second wave of bandits stepped forward, drawing low-grade artifacts and unleashing dozens of spiritual talismans.
Flames roared. Thunder cracked. Wind howled like blades.
The sky lit with destruction.
And still, Xuan Long raised only one hand.
FWOOSH.
The storm vanished—swallowed into his palm.
Then—
BOOM!
The energy returned—amplified.
It ripped across the battlefield like a heavenly punishment, incinerating over fifty men in one sweeping blast.
Screams. Chaos.
Armor clattered as weapons dropped. Men began to run.
The rest of the bandits—low-level cultivators and mercenaries—trembled where they stood, their courage shattered like glass.
Inside the field, Xuan Long turned toward his allies.
"Take the rest. Don't let a single one escape."
Without hesitation, Mu Chen leapt forward, twin daggers coated in glowing green poison. Hei Mo disappeared into the ground, rising from shadows with silent strikes. The demi-humans moved like illusions—flickering, multiplying, striking from every side.
Screams followed. Desperation. Blood.
The field became a grave.
Sky Above — Final Duel
High above, in the open sky, Xuan Long floated—no wings, no artifact—just energy holding him in place. Wind howled past his robes. He was silent. Still.
Below him, the Blood Fang Leader rose through the air using a spiritual flight talisman. His axe gleamed with deadly intent. His eyes blazed with disbelief and fury.
"Qi Vein Level 10 versus a man with no cultivation?" he spat. "You mock me."
He roared and charged, axe flashing with a crimson blade art meant to split the sky.
It struck.
SLAM!
But it struck a mirror.
A glass-like ripple shimmered before Xuan Long.
The blade art shattered and returned—ripping across the leader's shoulder, spraying blood into the air.
He reeled back, stunned.
"I can't… I can't even land a hit?"
Xuan Long's voice was calm. Cold.
"You shouldn't have touched my people."
He stepped forward in midair.
"You shouldn't have stood on my mountain."
His red eyes narrowed.
"And you should never… have looked down on me."
"You lost the moment you arrived."
The Blood Fang Leader's rage reached its peak. He pulled a forbidden pill from his belt—crimson and pulsing.
He swallowed it whole.
His aura surged wildly—toward half-step Foundation Realm. Veins bulged across his neck. His muscles doubled in size.
"DIE!"
He formed a blood-red palm—large enough to crush a house—and launched it with full force.
Xuan Long watched with the same unchanging expression.
"Devour."
The palm froze midair.
"Reflect."
Then it returned—twice as large. Twice as deadly.
CRASH.
It slammed into the Blood Fang Leader, crushing him into the mountain face. Bones cracked. Teeth shattered. Blood poured from his lips.
"This… can't… be…" he gasped, his voice lost beneath the stone.
And then—
Silence.