01 - Pisciple Slain

Autumn Maple Secret Realm

In a vast, endless forest of dark green, beasts and birds scattered and fled in all directions. The flurry of wings and the pounding of claws cracking the earth rang out in waves, creating an eerie, apocalyptic scene. Between the branches came terrified cries of animals, and the air was thick with the scorching, sickly-sweet scent of blood mixed with the damp smell of soil, making it hard to breathe.

Deeper in the forest, a blinding crimson light suddenly shot into the sky, dyeing half the heavens blood red. A shrill, ancient roar like that of some primeval beast shook the world.

Then, abruptly, the roar ceased as a colossal figure came crashing to the ground with a deafening boom. The earth trembled violently, trees shed their leaves in a storm of dust, and the air turned murky.

That massive figure was none other than the Yin Serpent, its corpse smashing through a grove of ancient trees as it fell lifeless.

"Report to the Master! Quickly! Bring the junior brothers and come help!"

On a clearing in the forest, a young man with a high ponytail, clad in a white and blue robe, knelt on both knees. His face was pale as paper, and his longsword was stabbed deep into the ground, barely supporting his swaying body. His chest heaved violently, his breath ragged and heavy.

Yet his gaze, fixed on the fallen beast, was firm and unyielding even as blood spilled uncontrollably from his lips, staining his chin and robe.

His name was Xie He—the eldest senior brother of the Yuanshi Sect, the undisputed leader of his generation.

He propped himself up on his sword, his other hand trembling as it fumbled at the storage pouch on his waist. He yanked it open and blindly rummaged for pills. His fingertips had almost gone numb, but he still managed to shove two pills into his mouth. They were high grade Strength and Blood Staunching Pills. A bitter medicinal taste filled his mouth, his throat burned as if scorched, but the next moment, their power surged through his limbs, and a faint glimmer returned to his eyes. The stabbing pain in his chest eased slightly.

Taking a deep breath and suppressing the coppery taste of blood rising in his chest, he raised his eyes and shouted coldly at the few inner sect disciples behind him, who looked just as battered and bloodied:

"Go! Now!"

"Senior Brother! We can't just leave you here!"

One of the younger disciples cried out, eyes red with grief and rage. The others all echoed him, their voices hoarse and choked with tears.

"That's right! We can't abandon you!"

"If we leave, we leave together! If we die, we die together!"

"If we go, Senior Brother—what about you?!"

Xie He's expression turned icy. He lowered his gaze to the Yin Serpent's corpse at his feet and the strange, swirling purple-black "Gate" forming in its chest. His eyes darkened inch by inch as he gritted his teeth, forcing the medicinal power to its limits. His hands finally stopped trembling. Slowly, he straightened, his back ramrod-straight, his eyes sharp as an unsheathed blade, locked onto that grotesque phenomenon.

His voice was cold and brooked no argument.

"Go. Report to the Master. I can hold this place for one more hour. No more but it's enough."

He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, his eyes never leaving the "Gate."

The disciples behind him finally saw it as well. Within that Gate, countless sinister and malevolent auras writhed and clawed as though ready to burst forth and drag the entire world into a hellish abyss where beasts, dark cultivators, and evil spirits would run rampant.

Fear and grief twisted their hearts, but they dared not linger any longer. Crying, they shouted:

"Senior Brother! We'll return as fast as we can!!!"

Tears drenched their sword hilts as they turned and flew off on their swords, the wind wailing mournfully behind them, each sound like a dagger to the heart.

Once the disciples' figures vanished beyond the horizon, Xie He's already grim face grew even more tense, every inch of his body bracing in vigilance. He felt it—that oppressive presence. A chilling, sinister aura closed in from all directions, like an invisible net ensnaring him.

"Who are you?!" Xie He roared, and at last, a trace of fear and unease surfaced in his eyes.

Before him stood a man. He wore black robes, his long black hair disheveled, his face deathly pale. His eyes were pure black, devoid of any light or color. Those bottomless eyes fixed silently on Xie He, and his lips curved into an eerie smile—like a ghost crawling out of the deepest depths of the underworld.

A shiver ran through Xie He's heart. He couldn't sense the man's cultivation. That could only mean… he was at least two whole realms higher.

The gap between them was insurmountable.

The man ignored Xie He's question. Slowly, he raised a hand, tracing invisible runes into the air as he murmured in a low voice:

"Resentful souls, return to the formation… and be mine to command."

A strange light flared briefly on the ground, a chilling energy swirling and then vanishing into the earth. All around, ghostly wails and howls rose, the very air freezing into a suffocating frost.

On the other side, the disciples pushed themselves to their limits, flying their swords back toward the sect. Along the way, one of them took out the message token Xie He had given them and sent word to the elders.

At the sect gates, a group of elders and disciples were already waiting. The night wind howled, lanterns flickered, and unease filled the air.

"Quick! What happened?!" the Third Elder roared, unable to contain his fury.

"In the secret realm… a dark cultivator of unknown strength used a formation to summon the Yin Serpent, which had been sealed for five hundred years. Senior Brother and the inner disciples fought together to severely wound it, but…"

Their voices trembled. "That dark cultivator… used the beast as a sacrifice to open the Gate of Earthfire. Senior Brother sent us to report. He said… he can hold out for at most one more hour…"

Silence. Oppressive and heavy.

The Grand Elder quickly took command, ordering spirit weapons, pills, and talismans to be prepared, and instructed them to notify the other sects immediately. All hands would head to the Autumn Maple Secret Realm.

Earthfire—

It was a forbidden ground created over a thousand years ago by dozens of Soul Refinement masters（lian po), nine Illusory Transformation masters(hua xun), and four Heavenly Astrals(tian gang), to seal away the most wicked demons and fallen cultivators in the world. Once its barrier broke, the mortal world would be plunged into a purgatory of blood and fire.

Whoever could shake the Earthfire seal now… was likely at least Heavenly Astral level or even stronger.

At that moment, deep in secluded cultivation, Han Ling's eyes suddenly snapped open.

He was a prodigy of unparalleled talent, with peerless spiritual bones a genius unseen in a century. A hundred years ago, he had already shocked the Dao with his Heavenly Astral cultivation.

He reached out and caught the flying message talisman, and a single line of text floated into view:

"Xie He and disciples in danger within the secret realm. The Gate of Earthfire is breaking. Xie He gravely wounded. Come at once."

Han Ling's eyes turned sharp and cold. He donned his Daoist robe in one fluid motion, strode off his lotus platform, and emerged into the plaza. The low-ranked disciples all fell to their knees under his oppressive aura.

"Sect Master Han!"

"Depart," he spat, his voice like steel, stepping onto the sect's flying vessel.

"Senior Brother Xie may not last much longer!" the Second Elder urged anxiously.

The Grand Elder added, "Someone is forcibly breaking Earthfire from within, and one of the sealed dark cultivators has gone missing."

Han Ling's voice was low. "I know who it is. Have the other sects been notified?"

"They have."

"Are the weapons and pills ready?"

"They are."

Han Ling's gaze swept over the assembled disciples. "Do you still remember the sect's ancestral creed?"

The disciples raised their swords in unison and cried:

"Our resolve remains true, our Dao hearts clear. Though the world changes, our hearts do not. Thus is the Heart's Beginning Sect!"

"This battle will be harsh," Han Ling said, his voice heavy. "Watch each other's backs."

The disciples once more raised their swords and roared:

"For the sect! For the world! Fight to the end!"

The flying vessel howled through the night, cutting through the clouds.

Within the sect, in the Hall of Memorial Tablets, a few low ranked disciples stayed behind to guard the tablets of their elders and brothers.

Bai Qingyuan—Xie He's junior sister knelt before his tablet, her eyes red and swollen, hands clasped in prayer.

Suddenly crack! a sound sharp as breaking glass.

Her head shot up. On the shelf, the tablet bearing Xie He's name, beside that of their master, had split clean down the middle, faint wisps of green smoke curling up.

Within moments, nothing but a small heap of ashes remained.

Bai Qingyuan reached out, hand trembling as she touched the still-hot ashes.

"No!! Senior Brother Xie!! You can't… you can't!!"

She collapsed before the tablets, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Senior Brother Xie…"

The surrounding disciples could no longer hold back their own tears either, muffled cries breaking out one after another.

Every disciple of the sect had a tablet inscribed for them upon initiation, to track the flow of their life force. When it shattered to ashes, it meant… they had fallen.

The Hall of Tablets rang with grief and weeping.

And back in the secret realm, the man in black robes stood calmly before the swirling purple-black Gate, murmuring coldly:

"One hour… was enough."

His voice was icy, his smile chilling to the bone.

Bai Qingyuan's sobs grew shrill, tearing through the stillness of the hall as her fellow disciples knelt with reddened eyes, tears streaking down their cheeks, hearts cracking like broken stone. Someone choked out, voice breaking:

"Senior Brother… for us… for the sect…"

The words died on their lips, swallowed by sobs.

And in the Autumn Maple Secret Realm, clouds churned, darkness pressed down. The once-lush forest was now scorched and ruined, the air thick with blood and ash. The Gate of Earthfire still shimmered with its eerie purple-black glow, as if mocking the futility of all struggle.

At the prow of the flying vessel, Han Ling suddenly felt the master-disciple bond he had with Xie He snap. His eyes turned blade-sharp, locking on the distant, growing Gate of Earthfire. His sleeves snapped like banners in the wind as his aura surged higher and higher.

In a low voice—yet one that seemed to echo through the heavens—he spoke, as though to his fallen disciple, and to the world itself:

"Xie'er… your life, I will reclaim. This world… I will never let fall into a land of slaughter."

With that, he swept his sleeve and pointed forward. The flying vessel roared ahead, countless sword lights trailing behind like a river of lightning, surging toward the Gate of Earthfire—like the final light before dawn, tearing through endless darkness.