Chapter 21: Echoes of Ash and Embers

The morning sun pierced through the horizon, a reluctant herald to the desolation that Zhen Yang had left in his wake. The battlefield was a wasteland of charred earth, shattered weapons, and lifeless bodies. Smoke curled upward like ghostly fingers, carrying with it the scent of blood and burning flesh.

Zhen Yang stood atop a jagged outcrop, his crimson robes rustling in the faint breeze. His piercing eyes scanned the desolation below, impassive, as if surveying a work of art. This was the result of his calculated wrath—a shattered army, a broken sect, and the echoes of defiance crushed under his heel.

Behind him, his trusted lieutenant, Kaia, approached, her steps deliberate, her armor stained with blood. "It is done, my lord," she said, her voice steady despite the carnage they had wrought. "The Baijin Sect has been annihilated. Their banners burn, and their stronghold is ours."Zhen Yang nodded, his gaze unwavering. "And the survivors?"

Kaia hesitated. "Some have fled, but the majority… were executed. None remain who would dare speak against us."

"Good." His voice was cold, devoid of emotion. "Fear is a far more effective deterrent than mercy. Let the ashes of the Baijin Sect serve as a warning to any who dare question my rise."

Kaia bowed her head, but there was a flicker of unease in her eyes. She had pledged her loyalty to him, but even she was not immune to the weight of his growing power.

In the ruins of the Baijin Sect's stronghold, Zhen Yang strode through the remnants of what was once a grand hall. The walls were blackened from the flames of battle, and shattered statues of sect founders lay scattered across the floor. It was a symbolic destruction—an obliteration of not just the sect's strength but its very legacy.

At the center of the hall, Zhen Yang paused before a grand altar. The carvings on its surface, though weathered, still pulsed faintly with spiritual energy. This was no ordinary relic; it was a nexus of the sect's power, a wellspring they had drawn from for centuries.

"Interesting," he murmured, placing a hand on the altar. The energy surged through him, wild and untamed, like a torrent eager to break free.

Kaia approached cautiously. "This altar… it's the source of their power, isn't it?"

"It was," Zhen Yang corrected, his voice filled with quiet conviction. "But now it will serve me."

With a sudden motion, his hand glowed crimson, and a sigil formed beneath his palm. The altar trembled, cracks spidering across its surface as its energy was siphoned into him. The room shook, and the faint cries of long-dead souls echoed as the altar's essence was consumed.

When the tremors ceased, Zhen Yang turned to Kaia, his presence even more commanding than before. "With their power added to mine, I am one step closer to reshaping this world."

Kaia could only nod, her thoughts swirling. He was becoming something beyond mortal comprehension—a force of nature cloaked in the guise of a man.

Far from the battlefield, in a secluded chamber deep within the Zhen family estate, Elder Zhen Xuan sat in contemplation. Reports of Zhen Yang's conquest had reached him, and though his face remained impassive, his mind was a storm of emotions.

"That boy," he muttered, his fingers drumming against the table. "He is no longer the weakling we cast aside. He's become something far more dangerous."

A knock at the door broke his thoughts, and a young attendant entered, bowing deeply. "Elder, a messenger has arrived. He claims to have witnessed the fall of the Baijin Sect and brings word from Zhen Yang himself."

Elder Zhen Xuan's eyes narrowed. "Bring him in."

Moments later, a ragged man was ushered into the room. His clothes were tattered, his face pale, and his eyes wide with terror. He dropped to his knees before the elder, holding out a bloodstained scroll.

"This… this is from him," the man stammered. "He… he told me to deliver it and to remember that I lived only because he allowed it."

Elder Zhen Xuan took the scroll, his hands steady despite the growing tension in the room. Breaking the seal, he unrolled it and read the message within.

It was simple, yet it carried the weight of a thousand swords:

"The Abyss rises. Prepare yourself."

The elder's grip tightened on the scroll. "So, he's declared war," he murmured. "Very well. Let him come. Let him show me the depth of his arrogance."

As night fell, Zhen Yang stood alone at the edge of a cliff, overlooking the vast expanse of the land he sought to claim. The stars above seemed dim compared to the crimson glow that emanated from him, a beacon of his unrelenting ambition.

He closed his eyes, the whispers of the abyss quiet now, replaced by his own thoughts. The memories of his past lives, though fragmented, were enough to remind him of his purpose.

"I was cast aside," he said to the wind. "A pawn in their schemes, a shadow in their legacy. But no longer. I will not be a memory—I will be a monument."

His words hung in the air, heavy with promise. The world would soon learn that the Abyssal Sovereign was not just a man, but a force that could not be stopped.