Mount Tai – Part I

This was war—not a game.

The sudden death of Gu Yuetian brought a moment of grim clarity to Fengyun Wuji. It was no longer realistic to think he could protect everyone. This was war—a war between races—and in war, casualties were inevitable. The path he had chosen allowed no retreat; once taken, it could only be followed to the end.

During the battle at the Imperial Palace, the Fifth Demon Lord under the Black Sky Demon Emperor of the Demon Realm was slain. In the aftermath, over half the palace was reduced to ruins, with nearly ten thousand casualties. Fengyun Wuji explained the destruction as the work of a demon beast from the Demon Realm.

Emperor Shengming had been staying in a distant palace that night, away from the explosions, and with elite guards by his side, he remained unharmed. Strangely, he asked no questions about the incident. Though the loss was tremendous, to an emperor, such destruction was merely a matter of numbers. In time, a new, grander palace would rise from the ashes.

Emperors—by nature—are without sentiment.

That Shengming neither probed nor blamed turned out to be a blessing for Fengyun Wuji. Though the Fifth Demon Lord had fallen, thousands of imperial guards perished alongside him. A new draft was issued, and soon, a fresh group of warriors was recruited from the Six Departments. Trained under Fengyun Wuji, they quickly grew into an elite force that could match seasoned martial artists. With the palace in ruins, Shengming relocated to a temporary residence. The Minister of Rites was left in charge of the capital and tasked with rebuilding the Imperial Palace—a monumental challenge, especially with the treasury depleted.

Five days later—Mount Tai.

Since ancient times, Mount Tai had been revered as the sacred site of royal offerings to the heavens. Now, it served a new purpose: a gathering place for the martial world, where all sects convened to discuss matters of great importance. Tens of thousands of sects and clans were present. Though each practiced unique techniques, nearly all trained in internal arts derived from the Sword God's legacy—the Devil-Slaying Heart Sutra.

Among them stood the Cangmang Sword Sect, a major faction. Though it lacked the formal title of a supreme sect, in truth, it was not far behind.

Now that the forces behind the shadows had been exposed, Fengyun Wuji no longer needed to conceal his strength. He released the full power of his Sword Emperor realm and soared from the palace into the sky. In a flash, he vanished from sight, leaving the imperial guards stunned. Only then did they realize that the quiet court favorite—addressed as "Master" on ordinary days—possessed powers rivaling those of an immortal, flying through the air like a celestial being.

Even when he was still thousands of miles from Mount Tai, Fengyun Wuji could already hear the clamor of battle rising from its peak. The appointment of a Martial Alliance Leader was a matter riddled with conflict; clans with old grudges had converged on the mountain to settle their disputes in blood.

The clash of steel against steel echoed to the heavens. Fengyun Wuji's heart sank. Every cultivator who had ascended to this realm was a priceless asset—he could not let the Demon Clan sabotage this gathering.

With that thought, the reach of his Sword Emperor aura expanded tenfold. Though he had not yet arrived, the sound of swords resonating from the peak filled the skies. One by one, blades of refined steel shot upward from the mountain, forming a vortex of whirling swords.

Fengyun Wuji stepped lightly onto the swirling current of swords, his robes flapping in the wind. Suspended high above, he gazed down at the chaotic summit of Mount Tai.

"It's him!""It's really him!"

Everyone was already shaken by the strange reaction of their own swords. For a swordsman, to lose control of his weapon was to be rendered nearly helpless.

"Everyone, stand down! Cease fighting at once!"Fengyun Wuji's voice was not loud, yet every word reached every ear with perfect clarity.

"Hah! You demon! This isn't a place for the likes of you!" a warrior shouted defiantly into the sky. "What, do you plan to become Alliance Leader now?"

Whoosh!

A sword flew from the swirling vortex at Fengyun Wuji's feet, plunging straight into the ground mere steps before the defiant man. The hilt trembled, humming ominously. The man's face went pale as he stumbled backward, silenced by fear.

"Perhaps it's time you understand the real gap between us."Fengyun Wuji's voice echoed across the summit. He stood against the sun, arms outstretched.

A sudden gust surged downward from the heavens, kicking up stones and sand in a storm of dust that rose several meters high. Warriors shielded their eyes from the blast, and in that instant—when their vision failed them—a tidal wave of force swept across Mount Tai. With a flick of Fengyun Wuji's hands, bodies were lifted into the air as if caught by an invisible tide, helpless to resist.

Gasp!

The sound of collective inhalation filled the air. Whether they had heard of his feats or not, none could believe the display of supernatural power before them.

Was this man even human?

"If I truly harbored ambition, I could kill you all with a single thought," Fengyun Wuji said coldly. With a flick of his sleeve, everyone dropped gently back to the ground.

"Attack him together! He uses witchcraft—his true strength must be weak!"A discordant voice rang out. Fengyun Wuji's gaze snapped toward the source, piercing like lightning. A white-haired man stood boldly at the edge of the crowd.

It was none other than Bai Li Lang, head of the Cangmang Sword Sect.

The crowd wavered, eyes shifting between the commanding figure of Fengyun Wuji standing atop a storm of swords and the bold, accusing Bai Li Lang.

"Cangmang Sect disciples, follow me! Take this demon down!" Bai Li Lang roared. "Whoever slays him shall become the next Sect Master!"

"Hold!"A voice called out from behind a stone outcrop. An elderly man in a green robe slowly emerged, supported by two attendants. Beside him, a boy of thirteen or fourteen followed closely, his features youthful and endearing.

"Senior Baixiaosheng, you've come!"Respect bloomed on every face at the sight of the old man. Several ascended cultivators hurried to greet him, one on either side.

Baixiaosheng, of the Heaven's Secrets Sect, waved them off and knelt facing Fengyun Wuji.

"Younger generation Baixiaosheng, disciple of the Heaven's Secrets Sect, pays respect to the Sword God!"

Boom!

A wave of shock swept through the crowd.

Sword God?!

The legendary Baixiaosheng—the most venerable scholar of the martial world—had just called this "demon" by the sacred title Sword God? That name had not been used for four hundred years, since the original founder of the Devil-Slaying Heart Sutra: Fengyun Wuji himself.

"You fools!" Baixiaosheng shouted, silver hair glinting in the sun. "All these years, you've claimed to be the true heirs of the Sword God, and now, when he stands before you, you don't even recognize him? Kneel!"

In the martial world, no voice carried more weight than Baixiaosheng's—not even that of Bai Li Lang. He was the chronicler of The History of Martial Wars, a man revered for both wisdom and neutrality.

At his words, the last shreds of doubt vanished. One by one, warriors across the summit fell to their knees.

"Greetings, Grandmaster!"

"Greetings, Grandmaster!"

A tide of kneeling figures filled the mountaintop. The longer they knelt, the more joined them. In every heart, the name Sword God was sacred—a living legend of the martial world. None had imagined he would return after four centuries.

And as the memories of their own actions flooded back, many lowered their heads in shame.