Pale moonlight filtered through the canopy, casting silver light over the mossy ground. A dozen or so young cultivators, all appearing to be in the early stages of Qi Condensation, stood huddled together in a loose circle. Their breathing was heavy, eyes wide with fear, as they faced a group of masked figures clad in black cloaks. The air was thick with killing intent.
"Y-You... what do you want?!" a young cultivator, barely in his teens, stuttered as he clutched his crude sword. His voice trembled as his gaze darted between the black-robed figures.
One of the sinister men, half his face hidden behind a dull iron mask, tilted his head and let out a low, mocking chuckle. "Why waste energy resisting? Resign to your fate. It'll hurt less."
Before the youth could respond, his words caught in his throat. His eyes widened in horror as he saw the glint of a sword raised high, reflecting the cold moonlight—
"Wait!"
A voice came from the shadows. Another man in black, breathless and slightly disheveled, ran into the clearing. He held a small talisman, glowing faintly with red lines. "I just received word from the lord. We need fresh blood sacrifices."
The executioner paused, sword still raised. "What!? Why didn't you say so earlier? I nearly wasted the offerings."
The cultivators barely exhaled faintly in relief earlier—only for their hearts to plummet again at the implication.
"Let's take them to the destination first," The new arrival nodded to another cloaked man, who smirked and pulled out a peculiar red rope, pulsing ominously like a living thing. He stepped forward, swinging it toward the group of trembling youths—
Clang!
A sudden arc of sword slashed through the air, slicing across the man's arm. He staggered back with a grunt, blood dripping from the wound. His being trembled, and the red rope fell to the ground like a dead snake.
All heads turned.
A young man in pristine pale blue robes stood at the edge of the clearing, his face serene like the moon but his eyes dangerously sharp. A faint breeze fluttered his sleeves, and a faint flame flickered behind his back.
Mo Yichen strides, a step behind him—his expressions cold, his brows furrowed watching the scene.
"Who—" one of the cloaked men growled, but the pressure that followed silenced the rest of his words.
Mo Yichen's lips curl up, "Why waste time in useless fights? Just resign to your fate"
Cultivators, ".."
Yan Yeqing's cold eyes were emotionless and laced with a killing intent that sent shivers down every spine present.
The cloaked leader narrowed his eyes. "Heh! You insignificant people! You just made things easier for us! "
"Now we got more offerings hahah-ahh"
His voice caught in his throat as a sudden golden glow enveloped his body, a small ball floating over his head, enveloping him in its radius bursting with a huge thud!
Mo Yichen, "..so noisy"
He didn't even have time to retaliate as Mo Yichen threw four more explosive talismans toward them!
"Ack!"
"Aghhhh"
"What!!..cough"
The place was immediately engulfed in a dense grey smock. The cultivators struck dump, their mouths gaping.
"..."
All at once, the choking smoke dissipated, revealing the wretched state of the once-arrogant evil cultivators. Their robes hung in tatters, scorched to blackened rags that barely clung to their bodies. Hair stood in wild, singed tufts, the acrid stench of burnt flesh and fabric thick in the air. Hundreds of angry, charred marks mottled their skin, some still smoldering faintly.
If they had seemed fearsome before, now they looked like beggars dragged through hellfire!
A nerve had been struck—deep, raw, igniting a fury that turned the air to ice. With a chorus of metallic hisses, swords flashed free, their blades gleaming with murderous intent. The killing aura rolled forward, so dense it stole the breath from onlookers.
Mo Yichen, "..golden core cultivators!?"
Beside him, Yan Yeqing's brow furrowed slightly, his gaze sharpening as he studied their opponents in silence.
The man whose arm had been severed earlier let out a guttural snarl. His spiritual energy erupted, twisting into a vicious, blood-red aura that pulsed like a snake. "How dare you bunch of brats!"
He lunged—
Mo Yichen didn't flinch. His fingers tightened around a sheaf of talismans, his voice eerily calm. "Take another step," he warned, "and this entire area will become your burial ground."
But before the threat could take root, the very atmosphere twisted under an oppressive weight. The combined spiritual pressure of multiple Golden Core cultivators crashed down like a mountain, crushing the air from their lungs.
Mo Yichen's soul might be in the Nascent stage realm, but his body and core were still frail, barely at the early stages of Qi Condensation. The gap was insurmountable.
There was more than two realms of differences!
A chorus of thuds rang out as the younger cultivators collapsed to their knees, gasping. Mo Yichen staggered, his fingers curling into fists, nails biting into his palms.
Yet Yan Yeqing stood expressionless, unreadable, his robes whipping violently in the storm of energy. His sword was already free, its edge glinting with a cold, silvery light.
With a sharp cry, three cultivators lunged forward, their blades slashing down in deadly arcs toward both young men.
Mo Yichen instinctively stepped in—only for Yan Yeqing to block him with one arm, never looking back.
"Don't move recklessly," Yan Yeqing said, voice low, steady. "I'll be back soon."
A single flick of his wrist.
A ripple of bluish-silvery Qi erupted, slicing through two swords midair as if they were paper. The third attacker barely twisted his body in time, but not fast enough—the energy grazed his shoulder, shearing through flesh and bone with terrifying ease.
Mo Yichen's eyes widened in surprise!
This was the first time he had seen Yan Yeqing wield true spiritual energy. Until now, he'd almost wondered if the man even had a core. But this—this was beyond anything he'd imagined. The sheer destructive force, the precision, the way Yan Yeqing moved—
So graceful, yet so destructive..
Just how monstrously powerful is this man to be fighting with a group of golden core cultivators!? And that too when his internals are clearly so weak!
A sudden spark of curiosity was born in his heart, wanting to learn and research more about the enigma of the man in front of him.
In the span of a single breath, Yan Yeqing exchanged over a hundred blows with the clocked men. Sword shrieked against sword, Qi clashing in bursts of light and shadow.
Watching the pressure rising the remaining cultivators regrouped, their leader shouting a command. "Use the flesh-mincing halberd! Crush them both!"
A massive but peculiar shape artifact was pulled out—a halberd brimming with so much spiritual energy that the entire atmosphere warped. Lighting cracked unnaturally. As it pierced into the ground, a shockwave exploded outward, flattening the terrain and knocking Mo Yichen back several steps.
Yan Yeqing staggered, clutching his chest. Veins bulged under his skin. "This—" He coughed up a mouthful of blood, staining the rock beneath him. Mo Yichen's eyes widened. "Shit... the fuck is this!?"
He glanced around. The cultivators were on their knees barely breathing. His eyes fluttered as he watched the side of Yeqing's face pale like a sheet of paper.
Ahh, I almost forgot his injuries! His body can't hold this much pressure!!
Should I take him into the dimension? No... I can't. If anyone see me access it..
The pressure from the halberd intensified. The clocked men began stepping forward, their mocking voices like nails scraping against Mo Yichen's brain.
"Aww, what happened to you little brat? Weren't you pretty proud a moment ago?"
"Hahahaha look at them now!"
"I suddenly feel their skins are pretty smooth.."
"Hahaha what are you implying Chief? Should we have fun with them first?"
Yan Yeqing's cold eyes glint with killing intent, he clenched his jaw, staggering but standing beneath the mountain like pressure, "Yichen.. I'll stall-"
Mo Yichen, "Don't finish your words. I am not going anywhere", he gritts his teeth, suddenly pulled out blank talisman papers, and bit his finger until blood gushed. He didn't hesitate. Kneeling, he scribbled furious inscriptions with his blood, his hand moving at blinding speed.
Please work… please, PLEASE work like last time!
He stood up staggering and ran towards the enemies with talismans flying from his hands. "Here! Eat this, assholes!"
Yan Yeqing, "Yichen!!"
It was as if everything froze for a moment!
The moment the blood-inscribed talismans touched one of the cultivators using halberd, a blinding crimson-gold light erupted—
BOOOOM!
The ground shook faintly. The air turned thick with smoke and the smell of scorched flesh. Scream rang out-
When it cleared, what remained was silence and a scorched dead body. Its severed limbs ripped in holes.
A massive crater replaced the field. Severed limbs. Charred corpse. The remaining clocked men gasped in fear. Something so monstrous, something so powerful.. they can't fathom how a simple talisman be this destructive.. unless-
One barely alive cultivator gasped, blood trickling down his chin. "Exor...cism...?"
He collapsed, his knees giving up.
Mo Yichen stood in the middle of the ruin, swaying on his feet, blood dripping from his fingers, face pale. "... I told them... not to mess with us."
He gasped for air, his body feeling like run down by a bulldozer. He took out another blank talisman, ready to squeeze out more blood-
Cold and slender fingers grabbed his hand, Yan Yeqing, "..there's no need for it." his cold eyes, filled with killing intent glanced at those gasping clocked men, "Let me finish them all"
Mo Yichen gave a breathless laugh, almost collapsing beside him. His eyes barely open, "..come back quick"
The world shook violently—or perhaps it was Mo Yichen himself who swayed. His vision blurred at the edges, darkness creeping in like ink spilled across the parchment. His eyelids grew unbearably heavy, and before he could even register the loss of balance, his body betrayed him, knees buckling beneath his weight.
But he did not fall.
A firm grip seized his wrist, fingers pressing into his pulse point with startling urgency. "Mo Yichen—!" Yeqing's voice cut through the haze, sharp with something unreadable—Worry? Anger? Mo Yichen couldn't tell. All he knew was the sudden warmth of Yeqing's body against his own, the solid presence keeping him upright as the ground beneath him seemed to dissolve.
"I—" Mo Yichen tried to speak, but his tongue felt leaden. His thoughts swam in sluggish circles, slipping through his grasp like water.
Yeqing didn't wait for another second. With one hand braced against Mo Yichen's shoulder and the other still locked around his wrist, he hauled him forward, lifting him and striding toward the nearest boulder. The rough stone pressed against Mo Yichen's back as Yeqing eased him down into an unsteady half-sit, half-slump.
Cold fingers brushed against Mo Yichen's temple, tracing slow, deliberate circles as a surge of spiritual energy entered his body. The touch was unexpectedly gentle, a stark contrast to the chill in Yeqing's voice.
Mo Yichen's breath hitched. The chill of Yeqing's fingertips seeped into his fevered skin, a fleeting comfort in the midst of his unraveling consciousness. He tried to focus, to pry his eyes open just enough to catch the expression on Yeqing's face—but the world remained a smeared watercolor of shapes and shadows.
A whisper grazed his ear, Yeqing's voice low and urgent, the words too soft to decipher. Mo Yichen strained to listen, but the syllables slipped away like smoke.
What… did you say…?
But there was no answer. The touch at his temple vanished, leaving behind only the ghost of its coolness.
The sharp clang of blades colliding, the shouts of unfamiliar voices, the rustle of displaced air as bodies moved in combat. The last thing he registered before the darkness swallowed him whole was the distant, fading echo of cries..