Blood on the Clouds

The entire battlefield burned purple.

Lightning coiled from Xiao Yun's body like serpents unshackled, snapping at the darkened sky. Opposite him, Elder Zhun of the Iron Pillar Sect stood wide-eyed, his own cultivation aura buckling as if refusing to face what stood before him.

"You shouldn't be alive," Elder Zhun growled, voice barely holding.

"I'm not," Xiao Yun replied calmly. "That's why you should run."

With a flick of his hand, the earth beneath them split. Cracks glowed with pulsing void qi as black lotus flowers sprouted from the ground, exploding upward like blooming death.

Zhun leapt back, his boots slamming into the shattered peak of Bone Ridge. He raised his staff, runes flashing crimson.

"Die!"

He struck down, and the sky obeyed. Thousands of iron spears rained down from the clouds, each larger than a carriage, each aimed to pierce the mountain—and Xiao Yun's skull.

But Xiao Yun didn't move.

Instead, the shadows behind him twisted and roared.

A dragon.

No—an outline, formed from pure void essence. Its jaw opened wide, devouring the entire volley of spears in one howl.

Xiao Yun blinked forward.

One step—and he stood before Elder Zhun.

The elder barely had time to gasp before Xiao Yun's palm struck his chest. There was no sound. Just a ripple, like air warping.

Then Zhun's body twisted into itself, his skeleton cracking with sickening crunches as if space itself folded him in half.

One breath later, Elder Zhun was gone.

Only his robe remained, fluttering down like ash.

The battlefield turned silent. Then screams echoed down the mountains.

Disciples. Sect warriors. Witnesses.

They saw what none of them could explain. A boy. Seventeen at most. Dressed in blood-crusted robes, covered in runes and lightning—and he had killed a Core Formation Elder like swatting a fly.

"Iron Pillar Sect…" Xiao Yun muttered.

His gaze turned toward the mountains behind them, where banners still flew.

A full sect fortress.

Thousands of cultivators.

He smiled.

One step.

He vanished into the storm.

---

The Iron Pillar Sect fortress rang with alarm bells as cultivators scrambled through the towers and gates. Sect Master Hu Lie stood atop the central pagoda, surrounded by his strongest elders. His face, lined with years of arrogance, now twitched in disbelief.

"You're telling me," he growled, "that Elder Zhun was… devoured?"

"No, Sect Master," whispered the trembling disciple. "He was erased."

"Ridiculous! Even a Nascent Soul cultivator couldn't—"

Then the wind died.

A sound like tearing silk echoed through the fortress.

The sky split open.

A single figure hovered in the breach, outlined in black lightning. His eyes—two suns of violet flame.

Xiao Yun descended slowly, arms at his sides.

The air bent around him. The walls cracked just from his pressure.

The sect master's heart skipped.

"What… what realm is he in?"

"I don't know," one elder whispered. "There's no fluctuation. It's like… he's walking outside the Dao."

Xiao Yun touched the stone of the outer wall.

The gate turned to dust.

Screams broke loose as disciples began fleeing.

Sect Master Hu Lie snarled. "Don't run! Kill him! All formation masters, activate the Sky Lock Array!"

The air shimmered. Golden light expanded from the towers, converging into a grand array dome above the fortress. It lit the entire mountain in holy light, burning the shadows away.

Xiao Yun stood still.

The Sky Lock Array crashed down, chains of golden qi slamming into his body.

The entire mountain trembled. Dust exploded outward.

But when the glow faded, Xiao Yun still stood.

The chains were gone. Disintegrated.

"No… No! That array is—"

Xiao Yun raised his palm.

The void cracked open behind him.

A giant spectral hand, shaped from black lightning and runes, mimicked his movement. It reached across the fortress, curling around the entire pagoda.

Sect Master Hu Lie screamed, summoning his sword. Flames erupted around him, taking dragon form.

He slashed forward with everything he had.

The spectral hand caught the sword.

Then squeezed.

The sword shattered.

Then the dragon.

Then the pagoda.

The entire sect's main building collapsed in one crushing grasp.

When the dust settled, only a crater remained. In its center, Hu Lie's upper torso twitched, his lower body pulverized into red mist.

Xiao Yun landed beside him.

"You tried to kill my village," he said, voice low. "Killed my family. Took their ashes."

Hu Lie spat blood, eyes glazed. "You… were just a boy…"

"I'm still just a boy."

His foot came down.

Hu Lie's skull cracked like glass.

---

Xiao Yun stood over the smoking ruins of the Iron Pillar Sect.

No more banners.

No more towers.

Only silence.

He turned, eyes glowing, gaze sweeping the burning horizon.

Then he heard it.

A single flute note. Soft. Haunting.

He looked up.

High above, standing calmly on air, was a woman in pure white robes. Long silver hair floated behind her like cloud threads. Her eyes were closed, yet her presence felt like a cold sword edge pressed against the throat of the world.

"Xiao Yun," she said softly, lowering the flute. "So the rumors were true."

He narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"

"Lan Yirou," she said. "Saintess of the Heavenly Sound Pavilion."

He didn't recognize the name. But his instincts flared.

That was no ordinary woman.

She drifted down, touching the ground without a sound. Her gaze swept the destruction.

"So much death," she whispered. "For revenge?"

"No," Xiao Yun said. "This is justice."

She met his gaze. "Then what of your next target?"

He tilted his head.

"You think I won't stop?"

"I think you can't."

A pause. Wind howled through the ruined sect.

She raised her flute. "Let's test how far your path of vengeance will go."

Then she played.

The air changed.

The sky trembled.

Xiao Yun's ears bled instantly.

Her music wasn't sound.

It was law.

Every note struck his soul like a blade. Memories twisted, bones cracked, his body convulsed—but he stood.

"Good," she whispered, eyes flashing open, filled with moonlight. "You're worthy."

She appeared behind him.

Too fast.

Her hand struck his spine.

A burst of white energy erupted from his chest, sending him flying into the cliffs.

Stone shattered as he smashed through three layers of rock.

Xiao Yun coughed blood. His vision blurred.

But he grinned.

That pressure…

That strength…

She wasn't human anymore.

She was a spirit weapon, born into flesh.

He stood, bloodied but smiling. "So that's how it is."

Lan Yirou's expression didn't change. "You're injured. Leave. I won't kill you today."

Xiao Yun wiped blood from his lip.

"No," he said. "Now I'm interested."

The void howled behind him. His back cracked as void qi surged, regenerating his flesh.

Then something moved.

From the far distance—another figure arrived. Not flying. Walking.

A man in red robes, carrying a severed head in one hand.

His aura was wrong. Too dense. Too cold.

He tossed the head aside.

Lan Yirou flinched.

"That's… an elder of the Scarlet Moon Temple."

The red-robed man grinned. "Xiao Yun, isn't it?"

Xiao Yun tensed.

The man bowed slightly. "I am Gu Wanzhou, one of the Ten Dark Kings. We've been watching you."

"Then stop watching," Xiao Yun said. "I'm not interested in your temple."

"But we're interested in you."

Gu Wanzhou's eyes glowed. "The way you manipulate void essence… it's beyond anything mortal."

Lan Yirou stepped forward. "He's under my sect's observation."

Gu Wanzhou sneered. "Then your sect is too slow."

He raised his hand.

And the world shattered.

Xiao Yun felt it instantly. Not spiritual pressure—but time fracturing.

The mountain twisted sideways. The ground turned black. His body warped, bones snapping backward.

Then everything stopped.

A frozen second.

Then it reversed.

Xiao Yun stood in the same place. But Gu Wanzhou now stood beside him.

"How did you—?"

"You're still growing," Gu Wanzhou said, tapping his chest. "You're a seed. But we need a tree."

Lan Yirou moved. Her flute struck.

Gu Wanzhou caught it with two fingers.

"I'm not here to fight," he said. "Only to offer a deal."

Xiao Yun narrowed his eyes. "What deal?"

The Dark King smiled.

"We'll give you the name of the one who killed you in your past life."

Silence.

Lan Yirou froze.

Even the wind stopped.

Gu Wanzhou held out a scroll, blood-stained and sealed with ancient bone.

"This contains the coordinates. The truth. The face of your betrayer."

Xiao Yun's fists clenched.

"Take it," Gu Wanzhou said. "Or burn it."

Then he vanished.

Lan Yirou stepped forward, but Xiao Yun had already caught the scroll.

His hands trembled.

The seal broke.

Inside was a single word.

A name.

One he knew.

His voice came in a whisper.

"…Xuanyuan Qiu."

Then his eyes widened.

Not from fear.

From rage.

Because that name…

Was his master.

And at the bottom of the scroll…

Was an old sigil.

The Heavenly Dao Palace.

And the final line, scribbled in divine blood—

"The master you loved… forged your death."