Chapter 7: Demon—cause starting of chaos(1)

Next Morning — Feng City

A chilling mist clung to the cobbled streets of Feng City as dawn broke. But instead of the usual bustle of merchants opening their stalls or cultivators sparring in training grounds, the entire city was gripped by a strange, oppressive silence.

The news had spread like wildfire — the Lang family's patriarch and core elders had been slaughtered overnight.

Whispers filled every tavern, tea house, and marketplace.

> "They say not even the defensive formation was triggered."

"Impossible! The Lang family were the strongest in the city… who could do such a thing?"

"It must be the work of a demonic cultivator… or worse, someone from the Evil Cult…"

Panic rippled through the city. Families packed their belongings and fled by cart or spirit beast, unwilling to wait and see if the killer would strike again. The Lang family was Feng City's pillar of strength. Without it, the city felt like a body without a spine.

Even sect disciples who usually walked with pride now kept their heads down.Rumors festered in the absence of truth:

> "I heard the attacker flew on black flames…"

"No, I heard he devoured their souls, one by one."

"Someone said the Lang family offended a rising demon lord..."

Meanwhile, the Hao family's main hall was wrapped in suffocating silence.

The grand room, once echoing with the sounds of discussion and cultivation debates, now felt like a tomb. The elders sat still, their faces pale and strained. No one dared speak aloud what they all thought — if the Lang family could be destroyed overnight, what chance did any of them stand?

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Morning — Hao Family Main Hall, Feng City

The early sunlight filtered weakly through the high windows, casting long beams across the polished stone floor of the Hao family's grand hall. A heavy silence loomed.

At the head of the room, Patriarch Hao Zhong sat motionless on the high seat, his fingers gripping the carved armrest so tightly his knuckles had turned white. His once-proud eyes now flickered with unease, and his usually commanding voice had turned hoarse.

> "Find out who did this. Quietly," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"If it's who I think it is… then Feng City is no longer safe."

Just then, a cold wind drifted through a cracked window. The Hao family's banners swayed gently — black and gold, emblazoned with their ancestral crest. But beneath their movement, something ominous crept into the air. As if warning them that a storm had already arrived.

Then, in the blink of an eye, the temperature dropped. The candles flickered violently, and a strange oppressive aura filled the hall.

Without warning, a figure appeared in the center of the room — as if born from the shadows themselves.

A young man stood before them.

His face was hidden behind a silver mask, emotionless and smooth like death itself. A long black hooded cloak draped around him, swallowing the light and muffling even his footsteps. In his hand, he carried a small, ornate wooden box.

The patriarch and all eight elders stood up instantly, alarmed. Yet none had sensed him until now. Their auras flared instinctively in defense, but it was too late.

Bai Xuan had already arrived.

He stepped forward with calm, deliberate poise, as though walking through a place he already owned.

"Hao family patriarch," he said, his voice deep and calm, yet strangely hollow — like the whisper of a blade.

"There is no need to send your hounds after me. I have come... for you."

He lifted the box with one hand.

"But before we speak, open this."

Tension gripped the hall. The elders hesitated, their instincts screaming danger, but Hao Zhong raised a hand to silence them. Slowly, he stepped down from his seat and took the box from Bai Xuan's hands.

The wood was cold. Unnaturally cold.

With a sharp breath, he lifted the lid.

The moment he saw what lay inside, his body froze.

Inside was the severed head of the Lang family patriarch, his face twisted in the agony of death. Eyes open. Mouth still contorted in a final scream. A few strands of blood-matted hair stuck to the dried corners of his mouth.

Hao Zhong gasped and stumbled back, letting the box fall. The head rolled across the stone floor, coming to a stop at the feet of one of the elders.

A collective shudder passed through the entire room.

Shock. Horror. Disbelief.

An elder backed away. Another clenched his sword's hilt.

"You… you're the one," Hao Zhong finally spoke, voice barely holding steady.

"The demonic cultivator who slaughtered the Lang family patriarch and all his elders overnight…"

His eyes narrowed with a mix of dread and fury.

"Why are you here? What do you want from my Hao family?"

Bai Xuan stood unfazed.

"What I want is simple," he said.

"I've come to offer you a position beneath me. Serve me — and I will raise your family beyond anything the Langs ever dreamed of."

He motioned toward the severed head.

"That is my gift to you. I know the Langs were your bitter enemies. I did what you have always dreamed of... and I did it alone."

Hao Zhong clenched his fists, teeth grinding.

"And if I refuse?" he spat.

Bai Xuan paused.

He tilted his head slightly, and behind the mask, a cruel smile formed — the kind that had no warmth, only promises of blood.

"Then I shall grant your family… the same mercy I gave the Langs."

He stepped forward, his presence expanding like a tidal wave of dark Qi.

"One breath. One moment of resistance. And I will turn your ancestral grounds into a graveyard."

The wind outside howled. The candle flames bent toward him. A few weaker elders were forced to their knees, crushed by the overwhelming spiritual pressure now radiating from Bai Xuan.

He lifted his hand slightly.

"Now, Patriarch Hao… Choose. Obedience — or extinction."

-----------To be continued.