Night had descended upon the Azure Heaven Sect like a curtain of ink—thick, unmoving, and oppressive. The moon hung high, a pale, indifferent spectator gazing down at the chaos erupting across the once-peaceful sect grounds. The clang of steel, the hiss of daggers, the roar of explosions from shattered formations—everything blended into a single, violent symphony.
Aelric stood within the ruins of his room, the walls cracked from the earlier clash, dust drifting like pale ash through the moonlight. Yet his expression remained utterly unchanged, calm to the point of unnerving serenity. Even now, even surrounded by hundreds of approaching assassins and forbidden from using his essence until Hex finished stabilizing his core, the man did not waver.
The broken window rattled once. Then—
A shadow tore inside like a streak of darkness.
He was fast—far faster than the previous assassins—his movements refined, lethal, and honed through decades of killing.
The assassin landed silently across from Aelric, cloak fluttering once before settling into stillness. His dagger dripped with blood—the blood of Azure Heaven Sect disciples he had slaughtered on his way here. His eyes gleamed with manic light.
"I," he said, tongue licking along the flat of his blade, "Silent Shadow… will sever your head tonight."
Silent Shadow—an assassin of the Silent Crown Sect, the fractured descendant of the ancient Silent Killing Pavilion. His cultivation had reached the entry stage of First-Rate Martial Artist, a level enough to dominate low-tier sects on his own.
Aelric's crimson eyes measured him once—no fear, no tension, no curiosity—only cold assessment.
That alone infuriated the assassin.
Without warning, Silent Shadow vanished.
Not stepped.
Vanished.
The floor cracked beneath where he stood as though he had never been there.
Aelric's pupils tightened slightly.
Traceless Divine Steps.
A movement art born from assassins who worshiped death itself.
Interesting, he thought.
A whisper of displaced air came from his flank. Aelric twisted, narrowly avoiding a strike aimed straight for his carotid artery. Another dagger swipe rushed for his ribs. Aelric shifted again—subtle, minimal, efficient. He was fighting with only his physical strength, and without essence, even the smallest misstep could be fatal.
Silent Shadow appeared behind him, breath cold, voice like the rasp of a corpse.
"You can dodge?,You can see my movements?"
Aelric didn't respond.
He simply bent his knees and lowered his center of gravity.
The assassin chuckled. "It doesn't matter. The moment my blade scratches you—you die."
Green venom glistened on the dagger's edge.
He moved again—faster than before. His form split into four illusory copies circling Aelric from all sides, each one aiming for exposed joints or vital arteries. Their movements were almost soundless.
Aelric's eyes glowed faintly crimson.
He watched the assassin's body—not his illusion—watched the flow of qi coursing through the man's muscles, bloodstream, and meridians like veins of light.
There.
A tiny ripple behind the left illusion.
Got you.
Silent Shadow lunged from behind, dagger stabbing for Aelric's spine—yet Aelric tilted forward, letting the blade graze the surface of his clothes.
The assassin grinned triumphantly.
"I got y—"
His smile froze.
No poison reaction.
Nothing happened.
Not even a reddening of the skin.
"What…? My ghost-vine venom…? Impossible—!"
Aelric's cold voice cut through the panic.
"You rely too much on tools."
His right hand shot back and grabbed the assassin's wrist mid-strike.
The assassin jolted—Aelric's grip felt like iron bands carved from a mountain.
He tried to retreat.
He couldn't.
Aelric loosened his stance slightly—just enough.
A bait. A calculated opening.
Silent Shadow saw the gap. His instincts screamed to exploit it.
And he lunged—straight into Aelric's trap.
In one swift motion, Aelric turned, pivoted his hips, and slammed his palm into the assassin's chest, shattering his footing.
Silent Shadow staggered—
Aelric's hand pierced forward.
Wet.
Crunch.
His fingers tore through skin, through muscle, through ribs like paper—and closed around a violently beating heart.
The assassin's eyes went wide.
He looked down slowly, disbelieving, as Aelric ripped the organ from his chest.
No anger.
No agony.
Just pure, frozen confusion.
"How… could I… lose…"
His body collapsed, lifeless before it even hit the ground.
Aelric held the heart for a moment, watching as the last spark of life faded from it. Then he crushed it effortlessly.
Outside, chaos continued to intensify.
⸻
The Azure Heaven Sect grounds had transformed into a battlefield drenched in moonlit carnage.
Dozens of assassins darted through the shadows, their movements ghostly and silent as they clashed with the disciples and elders who had been forced into formation.
The defensive array glowed faintly blue overhead, rippling every time an assassin's technique smashed into it. Disciples shouted commands, scrambled to cover blind spots, or collapsed screaming as daggers found their marks.
The air reeked of blood and iron.
Aelric stepped out through the shattered window and onto the roof above, watching the battlefield unfold beneath him.
He crossed his arms behind his back, expression unreadable.
Groups of assassins prowled like wolves.
Some disciples fought bravely.
Some trembled.
Some died before they even understood what pierced them.
His eyes swept past the chaos—searching for something else.
Searching for a stronger presence.
Hex stirred faintly in his mind.
A soft voice echoed inside his consciousness like a whisper of static.
[Aelric…]
"What is it?"
[…your innate core—has finally stabilized.]
Aelric's eyes narrowed slightly.
[You can now circulate your essence freely. No more restrictions. No cracks remain.]
Aelric nodded once.
"And my power?"
[…roughly twenty percent of your peak. Any more… will take time.]
Aelric did not complain.
Even twenty percent was enough.
Enough to slaughter entire sects.
Enough to erase Yunlai Village.
Hex's voice grew weak.
[…I require hibernation. Rest… is necessary.]
"Fine."
A pause.
Then Aelric added, quietly—
"…You did well."
Hex froze.
Then, incredibly—
[…you finally praised me…! I—I shall sleep proudly now…]
And the presence vanished.
Aelric allowed a faint, almost invisible exhale to escape.
⸻
Across the courtyard, a fierce battle erupted between two powerful figures.
Liang Shen, the sect leader's right-hand man, fought a tall masked assassin emanating dangerous killing intent—one of the strongest attackers tonight.
Both were First-Rate Martial Artists, their qi flaring like burning torches amidst the darkness.
Aelric observed from the rooftop.
The masked assassin flickered forward, twin daggers creating arcs of silver. Liang Shen gritted his teeth, azure-blue qi swirling around his blade.
"AZURE SWORD STYLE—FIRST FORM: METALLIC SLASH!"
His sword screamed as it descended. A metallic shockwave blasted outward, cutting apart several assassins who strayed too close.
The masked assassin's daggers clashed with the sword, sparks bursting like fireflies. He twisted—daggers aiming for Liang Shen's throat.
The swordsman reacted instantly.
"SECOND FORM—BUTTERFLY CURVE!"
His blade bent unnaturally, curving like a dancing butterfly wing. It narrowly redirected both daggers, slicing a deep line across the assassin's shoulder.
The masked assassin hissed, but didn't stop.
He spun, low and fast, sweeping Liang Shen's legs.
Liang Shen barely blocked with his scabbard—then kicked off a fallen pillar to regain distance.
The assassin lunged again, relentless.
Liang Shen felt his arm numb from the repeated impacts.
He was losing.
Aelric watched the fight, gaze analytical.
Liang Shen's foundation was solid, but the masked assassin was more ruthless, more unpredictable—using the killing techniques of trained executioners.
A single misstep would spell death.
Liang Shen's breathing grew heavy.
His sword trembled.
The assassin saw it and grinned from behind his mask.
A fatal blow came.
Liang Shen roared—
"AZURE SWORD STYLE—THIRD FORM!"
The ground beneath him cracked.
"MOUNTAIN CRUSHER!"
His blade descended like a falling peak.
The assassin's daggers crossed instinctively to block.
Crack—!
The force overwhelmed him. His arm snapped at a twisted angle as the sword cleaved downward, crushing his shoulder and half his torso.
Blood sprayed like rain.
The masked assassin's lifeless body fell.
But Liang Shen collapsed to one knee moments later, coughing violently, barely alive.
Aelric shifted slightly.
He had seen what he needed to see.
The combat strength of the sect.
Its weaknesses.
Its desperation.
And—
The one he was searching for.
⸻
Aelric sensed the killing intent a fraction of a second before the attack.
A silent blade thrust straight for the back of his neck.
He tilted his head slightly.
The dagger skimmed past, missing by an inch.
Aelric turned.
Standing behind him was the sect leader's personal guard, the man who had always watched Aelric with veiled hostility.
The man whose aura was sharp, cold, and extremely disciplined.
An upper-stage First-Rate Martial Artist.
"You're here," Aelric said simply.
The guard did not hide it anymore.
His expression twisted into a smirk.
"You don't seem surprised."
"I'm not."
Aelric's voice was flat.
"You showed hostility since the moment I healed the First Young Master. When the assassins attacked earlier, you conveniently avoided appearing. And your reaction to my interactions with the sect leader was always… strained."
The guard's smile dropped.
"So you knew."
"Yes. But it didn't matter."
Aelric looked down at the battlefield.
"If you attacked the sect leader first, it would have been more beneficial for me but Either way, your choices never affected the outcome."
The guard's eyes narrowed.
"And what outcome is that?"
"That you die."
The man's lips curled into a snarl.
He dropped into a stance.
Daggers out.
Qi surging like a wave.
"Then let us see… if you are worthy of being personally killed by me!"
Aelric raised his hand—and snapped his fingers.
Snap.
A ring of crimson mist erupted around them.
Blood in the air—blood from corpses, blood from wounds, blood spilled across the courtyard—responded instantly, swirling upward like ribbons drawn by invisible force.
In seconds, the blood coalesced into a sphere, enclosing both men.
"BLOOD VEIL"
An isolated world.
A realm of Blood.
The moonlight turned crimson as it reflected off the translucent walls of blood.
Every fighter outside froze—assassins, disciples, even elders.
"What… is that…?"
"Is he… a demonic cultivator?!"
"What kind of technique is this?!"
The atmosphere thickened to the point of suffocation.
Inside the sphere, the guard staggered, unable to breathe.
"What… what kind of power… is this…?"
Aelric stepped forward slowly.
"You wanted to kill me, didn't you?"
The guard coughed blood, eyes trembling.
He felt like he was standing before something ancient. Something primordial. Something beyond Martial Arts or Cultivation.
Aelric smiled faintly.
"Come."
Despite the terror flooding his veins, the traitor forced himself to stand.
His killing intent rose again.
Because he understood something:
If he fell here—
Flowing Cloud Sect would be annihilated.
He roared and dashed forward.
"Serpent Fang Strike!"
A spiraling dagger strike shot for Aelric's heart.
Aelric didn't move.
At the last second—he shifted half a step.
The dagger slashed past harmlessly.
The guard's pupils shrank.
He… he saw my movement trajectory before I even executed it?!
Aelric copied the earlier assassin's footwork.
His body blurred—using Traceless Divine Steps.
But his version was smoother.
Sharper.
Perfect.
The guard's heart sank.
"That's the Silent Crown sect's secret movement art… only Silent Crown descendants know how to perform—how—how can you—?!"
Aelric's voice was cold enough to freeze marrow.
"I watched it once."
The guard lost all will to fight.
His legs weakened.
He fell to his knees.
Aelric reached out.
Placing a single finger on the man's forehead.
"Your final mistake," he whispered, "was thinking you mattered."
The bloodsphere pulsed.
A soft crack echoed.
The guard's head separated cleanly from his body.
Before his consciousness faded completely, one last thought passed through him:
Flowing Cloud Sect… is doomed… because we provoked this man…
Aelric absorbed the guard's memories through the touch.
Then let the corpse fall.
Inside the sphere, silence reigned.
Outside, the entire sect trembled as the blood sphere began to slowly dissolve under the moonlight.
And Aelric—
Stood alone within it.
Unstained.
Untouched.
Unmoved.
The Bloodbath had only just begun.