"Xue Mo, stop resisting! Hand over the Blood Deity Art, and we may grant you a painless death!"
"You've slaughtered millions for your greed! Your sins are beyond redemption, Xue Mo!"
"Xue Mo, 800 years ago, you massacred my family and destroyed my sect. You severed my arm and took everything from me. Today, I will make you suffer tenfold!"
Voices rang out across the crumbling peaks, thick with venom sharpened by years of unbridled hatred. Around the heavily surrounded Xue Mo, some warriors roared, others sneered. Some held onto their wounds while looking on with fear.
Xue Mo stood at the center of it all, his blood-soaked red robes tattered and fluttering weakly in the cold mountain breeze. His once-pristine long hair was disheveled, clinging to his sweat-drenched face. Deep wounds marred his body, crimson blood dripping onto the ground below, pooling around his feet. His sword lay discarded by his side, its once-bright blade dulled and cracked, unable to withstand the relentless clashes it had endured.
He glanced at his opponents—sect masters, elders, and lone cultivators, each exuding immense power. Their very presence warped the air around them, their auras suffocating.
At the forefront stood five figures. A towering man clad in golden armor raised a blade that hummed with golden lightning. Beside him, a woman in crimson robes summoned an orb of fire so hot it warped the air around her. The remaining three, wielding a sword, a spear, and an axe respectively, radiated immense killing intent. These were Saint Realm powerhouses—figures who rarely left seclusion, yet they had all gathered to kill him.
Behind them stood dozens of elite cultivators, all at the Half-Saint Realm. Below that, would have no use here.
Xue Mo's gaze swept over them, his expression eerily calm. His jet-black eyes were like an abyss. This was not resignation—it was the composure of a man who had lived for thousands of years and experienced too much..
For six hours, the standoff persisted. The setting sun bathed the bloodstained mountain in hues of red and orange, its light casting long shadows across the battlefield. The tension was suffocating, a silent storm waiting to erupt.
Then, Xue Mo moved.
It was a subtle shift—he slowly raised his head, his bloodied robes fluttering in the breeze. His pale lips curled into a faint smile, and his calm voice broke the silence.
"So all of this for a technique that none of you righteous faction people would cultivate? Or would you?"
His words were like a spark to dry tinder.
"Shut your mouth, demon!" an elder from the Heavenly Radiance Sect roared, stepping forward as his aura exploded outward. The sky above trembled, cracks forming in the air as his spiritual energy surged. "Your reign of terror ends today!"
Xue Mo chuckled softly, his voice laced with disdain. "Sit down, old man. This isn't a place for fodder to speak." He swept his gaze over the assembled forces, taking a deep breath. "Now then... where were we?"
A deafening roar split the air as Xue Mo's body suddenly erupted with a bloody aura. His wounds stopped bleeding as an eerie crimson glow enveloped his form. The blood pooled at his feet rose into the air, swirling around him like serpents.
"He's using his blood domain!" a sect master shouted. "Everyone, attack now! Don't let him recover!"
The five Saint Realm powerhouses moved in unison, their energy condensing into devastating techniques.
One summoned a massive golden sword, its blade crackling with divine lightning. As it descended, the mountain below trembled, fissures spreading like spiderwebs.
Another formed a gigantic crimson palm, its fiery surface radiating destructive heat. It slammed toward Xue Mo with the force to vaporize everything in its path.
A third cultivator unleashed a torrent of azure water, each droplet sharp as a blade. The wave surged forward, threatening to engulf Xue Mo entirely.
Two others unleashed spatial techniques, tearing rifts in the fabric of reality itself. Blades of spatial energy sliced through the air, aiming to sever Xue Mo's very existence.
The combined assault of five Saint Realm powerhouses was apocalyptic. The mountain crumbled under the pressure, boulders the size of houses tumbling into the abyss below. The sky darkened as the heavens seemed to mourn the destruction unleashed upon the world.
But Xue Mo did not falter.
The blood aura around him surged, condensing into a demonic figure—a towering being made of blood. The figure raised its hand, catching the golden sword mid-descent. Lightning exploded outward, but the being held firm.
The fiery palm collided with Xue Mo's aura, causing a massive explosion. Flames and blood intertwined, forming a fiery storm that consumed everything in its path.
The wave of azure water struck next, but the blood aura absorbed it, turning the water crimson before dispersing it.
The spatial blades sliced into the blood deity, carving deep gashes, but the wounds closed almost instantly, the blood regenerating faster than it could be destroyed.
Suddenly—
An unfathomable pressure descended upon the battlefield.
"Ripples of invisible energy spread out from a single point, distorting reality as space itself seemed to bend under the sheer presence of the being who had arrived."
The sky darkened further, as if the heavens themselves recoiled. The fighting froze. Everyone felt it—a terrifying, boundless aura, suffocating beyond belief.
"Cultivators who had been brimming with righteous fury moments ago suddenly found their bodies unsteady. Their souls shivered instinctively, primal fear gripping their hearts as an unseen force pressed upon them."
"Saint King!" The saint in golden armor bit his lips in defiance. He knew in his heart the newcomer's intention.
All the Saint Realm powerhouses stiffened, their faces paling. They turned their gazes to the distant void, where an unseen presence loomed.
"He came…," one of them muttered, fear creeping into his voice.
Xue Mo coughed violently, blood staining his lips. He, too, felt the terrifying aura, but his body was reaching its limits. He barely had time to process the overwhelming force before a golden light quickly pierced him from above.
Whoosh!
The golden light was in the shape of a sword and it left a large gaping hole in his chest and immediately went straight for his soul.
As his soul was torn apart, he felt his consciousness fading, his vision darkening. He wanted to try and even resist but it was futile like an ant trying to lift an elephant.
But something stirred.
Deep within his blood, an ancient power awakened. The Blood Deity Art—his greatest secret—reacted.
Unknown to all, even by himself, a wisp of his soul was absorbed into the art.
The Saint King, finally making his presence known, descended from the void, his gaze indifferent. He scanned the battlefield, eyes locking onto where Xue Mo had fallen.
He was a middle-aged man basked in a holy aura of light, his aura enough to cause one to feel fear and reverence at the same time.
He wore a crimson robe with a golden dragon which had five claws and it felt like it could come to life anytime.
He raised his hand, prepared to seize the Blood Deity Art.
But it was gone.
A ripple of shock passed through the Saint King's eyes. His hand clenched, his expression darkened, but in the end, he said nothing.
With a final glance at the ruins, he vanished.
The mountain was no more. The whole area for thousands of kilometers was a wasteland. Silence remained.
The surviving cultivators looked at each other, shaken.
"The Blood Deity Art… is gone?"
The golden-armored man clenched his fists, his expression unreadable. "Then all of this… was for nothing?"
No answer came. The heavens above remained silent, as if mocking them all.
Xue Mo was dead.
Or so they believed.