He tilted his head slightly, observing Mo Shan not as an enemy, but as a curiosity. "You stray far from your burrow, little demon. To enter the Central Continent is a transgression. To hunt a child... that is a sin."
"A sin?" Mo Shan laughed, a harsh, jagged sound that hid his rising panic. "This is the cultivation world! The strong eat the weak! That boy is prey, and I am the hunter. That is the only law!"
"Is it?" Tian Xian asked. He didn't raise his voice, but the question hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. "You speak of strength. Yet, here you are, trapped in a cage I made with a thought, shouting at trees."
Goosebumps erupted all over Mo Shan's skin. The casual mockery, delivered without a hint of arrogance, stung worse than a slap. He was being toyed with. This man wasn't here to fight him; he was here to discipline him.
"Do not look down on me!" Mo Shan roared, his pride fracturing under the weight of Tian Xian's gaze. "I am a Heaven Realm cultivator! I have slaughtered thousands! Do you think a simple spatial trick frightens me?"
"Frighten?" Tian Xian smiled, a faint, mysterious curvature of his lips that didn't reach his eyes. "I do not seek to frighten you. Fear requires understanding. You do not yet understand what stands before you."
"Arrogant!" Mo Shan snapped. The fear, the confusion, the humiliation—it all boiled over into a murderous rage. He could not stand that look of pity. He had to wipe it off this human's face.
"I will show you the true power of the Demon Race! I will burn your spatial cage to ash!"
Mo Shan slammed his palms together. The air around him screamed as he drew upon the very essence of his blood. "Dao of Fire: Incineration!"
BOOM!
The dark aura around Mo Shan ignited violently. This wasn't ordinary fire. It was a dark, viscous flame, capable of burning everything into ash. It didn't just burn matter; it burned energy. The moment it appeared, the spiritual Qi in the pocket dimension hissed and evaporated.
The trees below them instantly withered, turning to gray ash in the blink of an eye. The ground melted, turning into a bubbling lake of magma. The temperature skyrocketed, turning the air into a scorching oven that would have boiled a mortal's blood instantly.
"Burn! Die! Scream!" Mo Shan thrust his hands forward. The black fire coalesced into a massive, roaring skull the size of a mountain, its jaws gaping wide to swallow Tian Xian whole.
"Take this! This is my Dao! This is my Law!" Mo Shan screamed, pouring every ounce of his cultivation into the attack. He wanted to see Tian Xian panic. He wanted to see that calm face twist in pain.
The skull engulfed Tian Xian. The pocket dimension was bathed in darkness and heat, a chaotic storm of destruction.
Mo Shan panted heavily, his chest heaving. Using the dao of Fire to this extent took a toll on his body. His skin smoked, and his meridians ached. But he grinned. No one, not even a peak Heaven Realm expert, could take a direct hit from his Source Flame without suffering.
"Hehehe... reduced to dust," Mo Shan wheezed, watching the swirling inferno.
But his laughter died in his throat.
Inside the roaring heart of the black fire, a silhouette remained standing.
The flames swirled and bit, crashing against the figure like waves against a cliff, but they did not advance.
As the fire thinned, Tian Xian became visible.
He hadn't moved. His hands were still clasped behind his back. His robe was unburnt. His silver hair flowed gently, not from the hot wind of the fire, but from his own ethereal rhythm.
He stood in the middle of the most destructive force Mo Shan could summon, and he looked... bored.
It was as if the fire recognized him as its superior and refused to touch him. He walked forward, stepping through the flames. Where his foot landed, the black fire extinguished instantly, replaced by cool, clean air.
"This is your Law?" Tian Xian asked. His voice cut through the roar of the flames clearly. "It is... disorderly."
He reached out a hand and caught a wisp of the black fire. The terrifying flame sat on his fingertip, harmless as a firefly. "It is warm," Tian Xian critiqued, crushing the flame between his fingers with a soft snuff. "But it lacks substance. You burn without purpose. You destroy without intent. It is the temper tantrum of a child, not the power of a master."
Mo Shan took a step back in the air, his eyes wide with horror. "Impossible... you... how? That was the dao of flame! It burns souls! Why aren't you screaming?"
"Why should I scream at a candle?" Tian Xian replied simply.
"Monster..." Mo Shan whispered, his voice trembling. "You are a monster!"
Tian Xian sighed. The sound carried a profound disappointment.
"You have wasted enough of my time. The night is short, and I have lessons to prepare."
Tian Xian raised his right hand. He didn't make a fist. He didn't summon a weapon. He simply extended his index finger and pointed it at Mo Shan.
The gesture was casual, but the effect was cataclysmic.
"Space Seal."
There was no sound. No explosion of light. But Mo Shan felt the universe stop. The wind stopped blowing. The magma below stopped bubbling. The dust motes floating in the air froze in place And Mo Shan... he was deleted from the flow of time.
He couldn't blink. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't circulate his Qi. He couldn't even twitch a finger. His body was locked in a coffin of solidified space, harder than the strongest divine metal. Only his mind was left active, trapped in a paralyzed shell, forced to watch as Tian Xian drifted closer.
Tian Xian floated until he was mere inches from Mo Shan's frozen face.
"You sought to manipulate the fate of the Ling Dynasty," Tian Xian whispered, his voice echoing in the silent void. "You sought to bind a dragon. But you forgot that dragons have guardians."
Tian Xian raised his hand, his long, slender fingers dancing in the air. Trails of colorless, shimmering energy began to weave around his fingertips. It wasn't combat magic. It was something far more intricate. Something forbidden to most cultivators.
"You are good at memory manipulation," Tian Xian noted, his eyes glowing with a faint, mystic light. "You used a totem on the boy. It is only fair I return the favor."
"Since you enjoy memories so much... let me adjust yours." He pressed his index finger against Mo Shan's forehead.
Mo Shan wanted to scream. He wanted to beg for mercy. He wanted to promise never to return. But he was a prisoner in his own skull. He felt the colorless energy invade his mind. It wasn't painful like a blade; it was terrifying like an eraser. It moved through his memories, searching, sorting, and deleting.
The capture of Ling Xiao? Dissolved into mist. The scent of the Pure Bloodline? Scrubbed away. The ambition to present the prize to the High Council? Rewritten.
In the depths of Mo Shan's consciousness, Tian Xian planted a new seed. A new reality.
In this new memory, Mo Shan had not found a boy. He had found a Guardian Beast. A terrifying, ancient horror that slept in the jungle. A beast so powerful that merely looking at it had nearly shattered his soul.
Tian Xian crafted the fear carefully. He wove the threads of terror into Mo Shan's very marrow. He made sure that the mere thought of this jungle would cause the Demon to tremble uncontrollably.
"You never saw the boy," Tian Xian commanded, his voice becoming the absolute truth in Mo Shan's mind. "You never saw me. You only saw death. You only saw a reason to run."
The process took only seconds, but to Mo Shan, it felt like centuries of violation.
Tian Xian pulled his hand back. "It is done." He waved his sleeve.
Crack.
The pocket dimension shattered like a mirror struck by a hammer. The shards of the spatial loop dissolved into light.
Mo Shan gasped, his body slamming back into reality. He fell from the sky, crashing onto the branch of a giant tree in the real jungle. He scrambled for purchase, his claws digging into the bark, his chest heaving as he gasped for air. He was drenched in cold sweat, his robes clinging to his shivering frame.
"What... what happened?" Mo Shan looked around wildly, his eyes wide with unadulterated panic. He didn't remember the spatial loop. He didn't remember Tian Xian. He only remembered the Fear.
A fragmented, nightmarish image flashed in his mind—a pair of glowing eyes in the darkness, a pressure that promised infinite suffering.
"The Guardian..." Mo Shan whispered, his voice cracking. "There is a Guardian here. An Ancient One."
His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. The ambition to capture the human prince was gone, replaced by the primal, overwhelming instinct to survive.
"I must leave," he stammered, saliva dripping from his trembling lips. "I must warn the others. No... I must save myself! If it wakes up... if it follows me..."
Terror seized him. He forgot about his nephews. He forgot about the mission. He forgot about his dignity as a Heaven Realm cultivator.
"Run! I have to run!" With a shriek of pure cowardice, Mo Shan launched himself into the sky. He burned his blood essence, pushing his speed beyond its limits, fleeing towards the Demon Shelter as if the very hounds of hell were nipping at his heels. He didn't look back. He didn't dare.
Below, in the deep shadows of the canopy, Tian Xian watched the streak of crimson light vanish into the horizon. The oppressive atmosphere vanished. The terrifying pressure dissipated. The silence broke, and the crickets began to chirp again.
Tian Xian stood on a branch, his hands clasped behind his back, looking once again like a simple, elegant scholar. There was no sign that he had just crushed the mind of a Heaven Realm expert.
He turned his gaze toward the direction where Ling Xiao lay unconscious, miles away. His expression softened. The cold indifference melted away, replaced by a complex mix of sorrow and hope.
"The path you walk is treacherous, Ling Xiao," Tian Xian whispered to the wind. "Grow well, my student. Only you are my last hope."
He sighed, a sound that carried the weight of a thousand years of hope.
With a single, gentle step, space rippled around him. Tian Xian appeared right beside Mo Shan and with a flick of a finger they vanished into the void, leaving not even a footprint behind, as if he had never been there at all.
Only the moon remained as a witness.