The night was pitch black, with only a few stars glittering faintly overhead. Beneath the sky, a towering mountain loomed in the shadows, its outline barely visible. At its base, countless dark figures holding torches formed a tight encirclement around the entire mountain. Amid the flickering firelight, a grand black palanquin stood out prominently, surrounded by elite guards in the uniform of the Imperial Secret Guard. Kneeling beside the palanquin, a gray-robed demonic cultivator was held down, his arms twisted cruelly behind him by several grim-faced guards.
His body was covered in lash marks, but the most devastating injury was his severed Achilles tendons—his legs completely disabled. Once a formidable ascendant-tier demonic cultivator, he was now just an old man with vacant, clouded eyes. His mouth was gagged, his dantian destroyed, his decades of cultivation wiped out in an instant.
A ladle of water was poured over his head. Trembling, he lifted his gaze, recognizing the guards surrounding him. A glimmer of hatred flared in his fading eyes.
"Gu Xiang Mountain's Immortal Path Sect is completely surrounded," a general in gleaming armor knelt beside the palanquin and reported. "The army is in position and can begin the assault at your command."
"Good," came a cold voice from within the palanquin. "Have all archers plant their arrows into the ground and prepare to shoot down any who attempt to flee."
"Yes, my lord!"
The general relayed the command, and it spread swiftly across the encampment. Ten thousand archers sealed off the mountain's base, each with quivers strapped to their backs, loaded with over a hundred arrows.
The Immortal Path Sect of Gu Xiang Mountain was one of the most notorious demonic sects listed by the Ming Sovereign's intelligence network. Windcloud Wuji, the enforcer of imperial will, had no intention of clashing with righteous sects, but for the unruly and defiant demonic factions, he showed no mercy.
Once his divine sense detected that a demonic cultivator here was preparing for heavenly tribulation, Windcloud Wuji personally captured him like a chicken. Mobilizing thousands of elite guards authorized by the emperor, and invoking a dragon seal to summon a full army of one hundred thousand, he encircled the entire mountain under cover of night—intending to make a brutal example.
At the mountain's base, several soldiers threw down torches. Thousands of bonfires erupted to life, casting light across the terrain. Logs were continuously fed into the flames, which rose several meters high.
The blaze soon alerted the cultivators atop Gu Xiang Mountain. Troops began advancing from every direction. The mountain wasn't particularly steep; paths to the summit could be found from all sides. As they climbed, soldiers planted torches every few meters and drove clusters of arrows into the ground in preparation.
The army moved in perfect coordination, ascending steadily. From the summit came urgent shouts.
"Fire arrows!"
Windcloud Wuji's order was transmitted instantly. Soldiers who had reached midway up the mountain calmly drew long arrows from special-colored quivers, ignited them with nearby torches, and aimed skyward.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
A relentless storm of fire arrows rose like locusts, arcing toward the summit—the stronghold of the Immortal Path Sect. The name alone made Windcloud Wuji wary. It was partly why he had targeted this sect first.
"Who dares?!" a powerful voice echoed from the peak. A lone figure shot into the air, sweeping away the incoming arrows in a dazzling display.
Thud!
A sharp knock sounded from inside the palanquin. In response, dozens of elite guards instantly bowed, their bodies tense.
"Yes, my lord!"
With that, they launched themselves into the air, surging toward the figure above.
The first volley of fire arrows struck the mountaintop, igniting raging flames. The archers advanced, discarding the now-empty special quivers. Each soldier seized a fresh handful of arrows and resumed firing—faster, louder, deadlier.
From within the smoke and fire, hundreds of demonic cultivators charged down the slope like wild beasts, slashing into the archers' ranks with brutal precision.
"Dragon Guard Seven! Take five hundred men and wipe them out!" came Windcloud Wuji's next command. His divine sense had already scanned the entire mountain. Aside from the cultivator who had just appeared, the rest posed no significant threat. Even if they did, the Dragon Guard Seven—each enhanced by Wuji to exceed the ascendant realm—would be more than capable.
"Yes, my lord!"
Seven formidable sword-wielding guards bowed low before the palanquin, retreating several steps before turning to dash into battle.
"Let's return."
With that, the black palanquin rose into the night sky, escorted by eight elite guards of unparalleled agility. Behind them, the sounds of combat raged on.
The Next Morning
By dawn, the once-mighty Immortal Path Sect of Gu Xiang Mountain was reduced to rubble. Wisps of smoke still rose from the ruins. The mountain was littered with corpses, each riddled with hundreds of arrows—like grotesque porcupines fallen in battle.
Shortly after, imperial proclamations were posted in every city:
"Gu Xiang Mountain's Immortal Path Sect defied the authority of the empire—tantamount to treason! Their destruction at the hands of the imperial army shall serve as a warning to all cultivators."
Thus came the first victim of the imperial ban on ascension. The court's intentions were now clear for all to see.
Once the Ming Sovereign consolidated power, he quickly established an effective intelligence system. Every disturbance in the martial world was relayed to the capital via swift messengers, and from there to Windcloud Wuji's ears.
Jade slips, bearing messages soaked in blood, came in waves. Ever since the ban, chaos consumed the martial world. In the past, the realm had posed a threat to the empire. Now, it was devouring itself. Sect rivalries erupted in every city for reasons Wuji found absurd.
Even the Southern Star Sword Sect—one of the Three Great Clans—was dragged into a brutal vendetta with the Twilight Purple Sect. Reports of bloody conflicts poured in daily. After being analyzed and distilled by court intelligence, only the most critical reached Wuji's hands.
"On the 20th: Drifting Sword Sect and the Vanished Sword Sect clashed—hundreds dead, twenty ascendant cultivators fallen…"
"Also on the 20th: Several Northern Ice Sword Sect members insulted the Southern Star leader's daughter—more internal conflict, hundreds more dead…"
"On the 21st: The Severed Sect and the Bloodless Sword Sect battled—eight ascendant cultivators perished…"
"On the 21st…"
Reading through the thick stack of reports, Windcloud Wuji suddenly saw the pattern:
"The 20th… the 21st… Ascendant after ascendant… hundreds of thousands of years of cultivation… Bai Li Lang… divine sense can't locate him… foreign forces… poison—not ordinary poison… The Three Great Clans… all suffering setbacks…"
As the dots connected in his mind, a flash of clarity cut through the haze.
A hidden force was orchestrating this chaos.
Their goal: to ignite internal conflict within the martial world, and burn through the strength of ascendant cultivators—until nothing was left but war.