The Azure Heaven Sect slept under silver moonlight, its spires and pavilions gleaming against the night sky. Mist curled around the mountainside, drifting like quiet sentinels, and the distant waterfalls murmured a lullaby that lulled outer disciples into slumber.
Yet Jiang Hao's eyes remained half-lidded as he sat cross-legged on his rooftop. His tea cup steamed faintly beside him, cooling as the mountain breeze swept past. From a distance, he looked like a man lost in a dream, tranquil and unbothered by the world. But his perception stretched far beyond what the mortal eye could see.
Qi currents rippled in the distance—irregular, distorted, and wrong. He had felt them earlier that day, faint disturbances like insects brushing against the edges of a vast web. But now, they were clearer, heavier, deliberate. A coordinated intent.
They are coming, he thought softly, tapping the rim of his cup. The sound was so faint it disappeared into the night. Demon Sect… impatient pests.
For days they had probed. Tonight, patience had ended.
On the outer perimeter of the sect, stationed disciples stood guard with lanterns in hand. Most had grown lax, comforted by the sect's reputation and its mountain fortifications. But when the mist thickened suddenly, unnatural and swirling in a single direction, unease spread among them.
"Stay sharp," one guard muttered, gripping his spear tighter. His breath fogged in the cold night.
From the mist, shadows began to move. At first subtle, then distinct—humanoid forms cloaked in black, masks gleaming faintly with crimson patterns. Their footsteps made no sound as they advanced.
"The perimeter—!" one guard shouted, but before he could finish, a sharp whistle cut the air. Dark energy rippled outward like a wave, snuffing the lanterns in a heartbeat. Screams echoed as disciples raised their weapons.
The first wave had begun.
Deep within the sect, Lin Xueyao woke from meditation, her sword hand twitching instinctively toward her blade. Her sharp senses had picked up the shift even before the warning bells sounded. Sliding the door open, she stepped into the courtyard and scanned the mist-laden night.
Demon Sect… bold enough to attack openly, she thought, her heart pounding with both anticipation and dread.
Her gaze shifted toward the western rooftops, where Jiang Hao sat, still drinking tea as if nothing had changed. His calmness unsettled her. Did he not sense the danger? Or was he so certain of himself that he didn't care?
Her lips pressed into a line. "If he remains so indifferent, I will act first."
Yet, when her eyes lingered a moment longer, she noticed something strange—though Jiang Hao's posture seemed relaxed, the mist around his rooftop refused to settle, as if invisible barriers bent it away from him.
The bells tolled then—deep, resonant, ringing across the mountainside.
BOOM… BOOM… BOOM.
Disciples leapt from their quarters, weapons flashing, scrambling toward the gates. Elders barked orders, voices echoing:
"The Demon Sect has come!""Form ranks!""Protect the inner disciples!"
Panic spread as dozens of masked attackers breached the outer wall, their movements swift, their strikes merciless. In an instant, the tranquil sect became a battlefield.
Flames licked the outer gardens. Steel clashed with corrupted qi. Cries of pain and fury tore through the night.
And Jiang Hao… sipped his tea.
On the western wall, three outer disciples clashed desperately with a masked attacker whose blade dripped with corrosive black energy. Their spears rattled against his strikes, each blow heavier than the last.
"We can't hold him!" one cried, stumbling back.
The attacker raised his sword high, crimson eyes glinting through the mask—only for the blade to halt mid-air. His wrist froze, locked in place as if seized by invisible chains.
The disciples blinked in shock. Then, without warning, the attacker's knees buckled, and his body slammed to the ground. His mask cracked, blood spilling from his mouth, eyes wide with horror.
The disciples whipped their heads toward the sect's rooftops. There, Jiang Hao sat with tea in hand, gaze tilted lazily in their direction. He hadn't moved a muscle.
Their hearts skipped. Was… was it him?
The attacker gurgled once, then went still.
Jiang Hao placed his cup back down with a soft clink. "No overtime."
At the main gate, elders clashed with a squad of Demon Sect raiders. Sparks showered as blades met, the air heavy with killing intent. Yet more shadows spilled from the mist, surrounding the sect's defenders.
It was here that Jiang Hao finally stood. His robes shifted lightly in the wind as he stepped from the rooftop, descending not with a leap but with the casualness of a man strolling down stairs. His sandals touched the ground without a sound.
The moment his feet settled, the battlefield stilled.
Masked attackers glanced around uneasily. The mist seemed to recoil, parting subtly around him. Even the flames hesitated, flickering lower as if bowing to an unseen command.
A young inner disciple gasped, whispering too loudly, "Is that… Senior Brother Jiang Hao?"
The name spread in hushed tones. Disciples turned, watching him walk forward with unhurried grace.
Jiang Hao didn't raise a weapon. He simply placed his hands behind his back and continued.
A masked attacker snarled and charged at him, sword raised high.
Jiang Hao glanced at him once.
The man flew backward as though struck by a mountain, his mask shattering mid-air, his body limp before it struck the wall with a sickening crack.
Silence fell over that section of the battlefield.
Lin Xueyao's chest tightened as she watched from the pavilion. The sight was both awe-inspiring and terrifying.
He hasn't even… moved, she thought, her fingers tightening on her sword hilt. And yet… they die.
But more enemies poured through the gates. Ten. Fifteen. Their qi flared with madness and corruption, dark auras pressing against the sect like a suffocating storm.
Jiang Hao stopped in the courtyard center, the moonlight painting his features with ethereal calm. His face, already handsome, seemed sharper, more unearthly beneath the glow. For a moment, Lin Xueyao felt her breath catch—not from fear, but from something she refused to name.
The attackers hesitated. Then they roared and charged together, black blades raised, dark qi exploding like a tide.
And Jiang Hao, faint smile tugging at his lips, finally exhaled.
The air shifted.
The courtyard floor trembled, the lantern flames bent sideways, and the charging attackers halted mid-motion as if the world itself resisted them. Their bodies contorted under an unseen force. One by one, they collapsed, groaning, blood spraying from mouths. Their weapons clattered uselessly on the ground.
Still Jiang Hao hadn't lifted a hand.
The disciples watching could barely breathe. Whispers broke the silence.
"He… he's too strong…""What realm is he…?""Why does he hide this…?"
Elders exchanged uneasy glances. None dared to ask.
Jiang Hao sipped from his tea, now somehow still warm in his hand, and said softly, "Day's work is done. Go home."
The night echoed with the sound of masked corpses hitting the earth.
The cries of clashing blades rang out across the Azure Heaven Sect. The first wave of Demon Sect attackers had been crushed, but the mist beyond the walls churned with darker shapes. This time, it was no probing test. They advanced in full force, a black tide crashing against the moonlit mountain stronghold.
From the courtyard, disciples caught their breath. Many stared wide-eyed at Jiang Hao, whispers rippling like wildfire through their ranks.
"Senior Brother Jiang Hao…""He defeated them without moving…""Why—why has he hidden this from us all this time?"
Lin Xueyao stood silently among them, sword still in hand. She had fought side by side with these disciples many nights, shedding sweat and blood for the sect. But tonight, as she watched Jiang Hao walk as if on a leisurely stroll through the battlefield, she realized she had been blind.
He's not an ordinary inner disciple… He never was.
Yet even now, she sensed restraint. Every move he made, every glance, every subtle exhalation—it was as though he held back mountains with two fingers.
The gates shuddered violently as the next wave struck. Cracks splintered across the wood. Elders shouted orders, summoning their qi to reinforce defenses.
Then—
BOOM!
The gates exploded inward in a shower of splinters. A dozen masked figures stormed through, their dark qi blazing like wildfire. Their leader, taller and broader than the rest, wore a crimson mask etched with symbols that pulsed faintly, leaking sinister energy.
"You dare resist the Demon Sect?" the man growled, voice low and guttural. "Tonight, Azure Heaven falls."
His aura spread like a storm, suffocating weaker disciples. Several stumbled back, faces pale, clutching at their chests.
Elder Zhou stepped forward, blade raised. "Over my dead body."
The crimson-masked man sneered and raised his hand. Dark energy coalesced into a spear of black fire, hurtling toward Elder Zhou.
It never landed.
The spear froze in the air, its energy unraveling like loose thread. A soft clink followed—the sound of porcelain on wood.
Every eye turned toward Jiang Hao, who had just set his tea cup back on a small garden table. He didn't even look at the enemy; he simply lifted his gaze lazily toward the moon.
The crimson-masked man's hand trembled. "W–what…?"
From the northern pavilion, a new voice boomed across the battlefield.
"That is quite enough."
The ground trembled as a new figure descended. Robes of deep indigo, embroidered with golden clouds, flowed around a tall, broad-shouldered man whose aura swept across the courtyard like a tidal wave. His face was stern, his eyes sharp, his very presence commanding absolute respect.
It was Elder Tian, Jiang Hao's master—the man second only to the Sect Master.
The disciples erupted with renewed strength. "Elder Tian has come!"
Even Lin Xueyao exhaled in relief, though her gaze quickly shifted back to Jiang Hao. She wanted to see what his master would do—and how Jiang Hao would react.
Elder Tian's sharp eyes found his disciple instantly. "Hao'er," he called firmly, his voice like thunder, "you need not act further. Leave the rabble to us."
Jiang Hao inclined his head slightly. "Yes, Master." His tone was calm, obedient.
But Elder Tian's eyes narrowed slightly, lingering on the broken bodies already strewn about. He had felt the qi fluctuations—those corpses hadn't been felled by ordinary means. His disciple had acted, quietly but decisively, revealing power far beyond what even he had anticipated.
Just how much are you hiding, boy? Elder Tian thought, both wary and proud.
The crimson-masked leader sneered. "So, Azure Heaven sends out another elder. Do you think your ranks can withstand us? Tonight, your disciples will bleed. Your gates will crumble. Your Sect Master will kneel."
Elder Tian raised a brow, his golden aura flaring. "You speak too boldly for a dog wearing a mask."
The enemy roared and lunged, black spear forming again. Elder Tian met him head-on, their clash shaking the courtyard like thunder. Sparks lit the night as golden qi slammed against black fire, each strike sending shockwaves that rattled the lanterns.
Disciples scrambled to safety, shielding their faces from the blasts.
Lin Xueyao's eyes darted between her elder and Jiang Hao. Elder Tian fought fiercely, but Jiang Hao… Jiang Hao simply sipped his tea, unmoved.
Then she noticed something—the masked foot soldiers who had slipped past Elder Tian's clash, charging toward unguarded disciples.
"Behind you!" she shouted, leaping forward, blade flashing.
Her sword met the first attacker's dagger with a sharp clang. She pushed him back, only to find three more rushing in. She gritted her teeth, ready to fight, but then—
The attackers froze mid-strike.
Their blades hovered inches from her, unmoving. Their bodies stiffened, eyes wide with horror. Slowly, impossibly, they rose into the air as if held by unseen threads. Then, with a soundless impact, they slammed into the courtyard walls, unconscious before they even fell.
Lin Xueyao's breath caught. She turned her head.
Jiang Hao hadn't moved an inch. He only tilted his cup, sipping slowly, gaze still fixed on the moon.
Her heartbeat thundered in her chest.
On the battlefield, the crimson-masked leader clashed furiously with Elder Tian, their power shaking the sect walls. But every time a stray Demon Sect warrior tried to slip past, they fell inexplicably—thrown against walls, tripped by invisible force, or knocked unconscious before they even swung a blade.
The disciples whispered, terror and awe mixing in their voices.
"It's him… it has to be him…""He's protecting us without even moving…""He's not just strong. He's… untouchable."
Even Elder Tian noticed. With every exchange of blows, he caught glimpses of his disciple's interference—always subtle, never showy, but impossibly effective.
His lips pressed into a firm line. Hao'er… you are holding back far more than I imagined. What are you hiding from even me?
Finally, with a deafening roar, Elder Tian's golden qi surged, shattering the crimson-masked leader's spear. His blade carved through the man's defense, and with a final strike, the masked leader staggered back, mask cracking down the center.
The man spat blood, glaring in fury. "This… this isn't over! The Demon Sect always collects its debts!"
He vanished into the mist with the remnants of his squad, retreating into the night.
The battlefield quieted. The flames died down. Disciples slumped in exhaustion, gasping for air.
And there, in the center of it all, Jiang Hao drained the last of his tea, set the cup aside, and stood.
"The day's work is done," he said softly, almost to himself. "No overtime."