The Blasphemous Way

In the farthest corner of the eastern lands, beyond the drifting Mist forests and the endless marshes where even maps weren't drawn, there lay a hidden plain — the Hollow Sky Plateau.

Under the stars of the Hollow Sky Plateau, the wind howled through the black‑boned pavilion as cultivators from across the lands gathered in a chaos of wine, blood, and whispers.

Lanterns cast long, swaying shadows over tables groaning with spirit‑beast meat and immortal wine. The air reeked of incense, wet stone, and barely restrained killing intent.

Lin Yueming rested his hands lightly on his twin swords, his eyes cold.

"Strength means nothing if you don't know why you wield it," he said, his words cutting through the din.

Lei Ze scoffed, her halberd resting across her shoulders.

"Hmph. Strength is reason enough. You'd understand... if you ever won."

Across the table, Bai Yezi toyed lazily with a strand of her hair, her smirk sharp as a blade.

"Oh Jinhua, darling... still pulling strings from the shadows? You know I prefer center stage."

Mo Jinhua's serene smile didn't falter as her chains coiled and uncoiled beneath her wide sleeves.

"And yet you dance exactly where I wish you to. As always."

Yi Lian rolled her eyes at Xu Huiran.

"Why are you even here? Gonna 'gently' slap someone to death?"

Xu Huiran blushed, but her voice was quiet and unwavering.

"Better than stabbing them in the back when they're not looking."

Chen Lijun cracked her knuckles with a faint grin.

"Our fists are stronger than any blade. Are you ready?"

Tan Feixue gave a small nod.

"I was born ready. Let's show them what justice feels like."

From the shadows, Mo Ruge prowled around Zhao Linghua like a wolf, laughing softly.

"Oh, how pure you are, little saintess. How deliciously fragile..."

Zhao's eyes glowed faintly, her reply calm and sharp.

"And yet it's always purity that seals you witches back in your holes, isn't it?"

Luo Qinxue grinned as she cleaned her spirit bow, jabbing at Sha Muyun.

"Hey, tall, dark, and silent. You planning to talk today, or just brood?"

Sha's voice was quiet, dismissive.

"Talking wastes air. Shooting wastes less."

Shen Peiran's hand tightened on his sword hilt as he glared at Bai Erbing.

"You're nothing but a puppet following orders. Why keep fighting?"

Bai Erbing's faint blue eyes glimmered.

"Because the order I was given... was to win."

An Luoyan leveled her beast‑spear across the table at Yu Ruyan, her voice a low growl.

"I hunt monsters like you for sport."

Yu Ruyan smiled faintly, her blades glinting like moonlight.

"And I hunt fools like you for coin. Shall we?"

Mu Lan's irritated yell rose above the rest as she scrambled over a half‑finished glowing array, kicking a drunken cultivator out of her way.

"Can you all STOP fighting for two minutes while I finish this formation? Honestly, martial artists are worse than toddlers!"

Xun Nuo muttered to herself, her fingers twitching.

"They say you're a monster too. Do you hear them?"

An Bai cracked her knuckles grimly.

"I don't hear them. I make them scream."

Shen Peiran finally strode forward, his voice iron.

"Enough posturing. We all know why we're here. If the Scarlet Moon Pact doesn't withdraw from the Southern Territories, war is inevitable."

Mo Jinhua only smiled faintly, her gaze sweeping across the orthodox cultivators like a slow blade.

"Oh? And who among you has the strength to enforce such... inevitability?"

Bai Yezi's laugh cut through the tension, mocking and sweet.

"Oh my, and here I thought we were all friends today. Jinhua, darling, must you always play the villain?"

Mo Ruge's laugh followed, dark and smooth.

"And you must always play the fool, Yezi. Some things never change."

Lin Yueming drew his swords, moonlight and sunlight flashing along the steel.

"Call it what you will. But the Scarlet Moon Pact's tyranny ends here."

Lei Ze sneered faintly, her halberd scraping the stone.

"Spare us the self‑righteous drivel, boy. You wouldn't last ten breaths in my clan's arenas."

Yi Lian leaned lazily against a pillar, her smile sharp.

"Yeah, big talk coming from people who probably trip over their own pride."

Chen Lijun stepped forward, fists clenched.

"Justice isn't a mask you can wear forever, Jinhua. Sooner or later, your strings will snap."

Jinhua's smile turned cold, her chains shifting faintly.

"And yet it's always the righteous who dangle on mine."

Zhao Linghua's fan snapped open, her calm voice cutting through the noise.

"Enough games. Withdraw, or face divine punishment."

Mo Ruge's eyes glowed green as she drifted closer, her whisper a snake's hiss.

"Oh little saintess... you do love to pretend your hands are clean."

Luo Qinxue clapped mockingly.

"Wow. You orthodox types really know how to bore a girl. And you demonic types... well, you just smell bad."

Sha Muyun glanced at her before returning his gaze to the void.

"Stop talking. You're making them mad."

An Luoyan leveled her spear fully at Yu Ruyan.

"You. Assassin. You've been hunting beasts in my territory. Care to explain before I pin you to the ground?"

Yu Ruyan's smile sharpened, her blades gleaming.

"You're welcome to try. But it won't end well for you."

Bai Erbing raised her massive blade, her voice flat and mechanical.

"Orders received. Eliminate hostile cultivators."

Shen Peiran shouted, angry.

"You're nothing but a puppet! Stand down or be dismantled!"

Bai Erbing's cold reply was quiet but clear.

"I am not yours to command."

An Bai cracked her knuckles, stepping forward.

"Oh great. Another commander barking orders. Someone shut him up before I do."

Xun Nuo's muttering grew louder as she raised her hands to her head.

"All of you... are screaming. Make them stop screaming..."

And just as the killing intent in the room peaked, Bai Yezi's lilting laugh broke the tension like a whip crack.

She spun, her eyes glittering with dark delight.

"Oh children. You're all so serious. So angry. So sure you're right."

Her gaze slid to Mo Jinhua, and she winked.

"I love it. Shall we let them kill each other and pick up the pieces later?"

Mo Jinhua chuckled softly, quiet but sharp as glass.

"As always... you read my mind."

The banquet was chaos in motion.

Swords clashed once or twice in drunken arguments, only to be calmed by servants in grey robes who moved like ghosts. Spilled wine mixed with blood here and there, and laughter often turned into shouting, then back again.

Some cursed the Emperor of the Central Realms.Some argued about who summoned them here.Others exchanged promises, daggers, or spirit contracts right at the table.

The old woman in crimson silks finally tapped her cup once.Her voice was dry, quiet — but somehow cut through the din."You are here," she said, "because a storm is coming."

The voices quieted, though not completely.

"If you know who it is, just say it! Save us the trouble!"

"What storm? Whose? Why? I care not," she continued. "But the one who holds the answer to it all... will be among you." 

The wanderer in black robe finally looked up.His eyes were cold, and faintly amused.

From the Thousand Eyes Order's side, a woman's laugh hissed like wind through reeds:"If you're so eager to die, by all means — stand up and find out."

But the old woman only smiled faintly behind her mask.

And in that silence — broken only by the distant shriek of something in the wind outside — one voice finally spoke.

The wanderer."No," he said. "You'll stay. All of you. Because you already know — whatever is coming... none of you can face it alone." 

His words sent another ripple through the room, though no one moved.He set his untouched cup down gently, the faint sound of porcelain against wood impossibly loud in the quiet."Drink. Eat. Plot. Kill each other if you must.""But when the night is over... you'll all have a choice." 

The wind outside screamed louder, rattling the black‑boned walls as the stars above spun slower, watching.

And still, no one moved.

In the farthest northern corner of the continent, a lone figure sat by a window in the flickering candlelight — sleeping, unaware that a storm was brewing.

It was pitch black.

Thick. Clinging.

Each step he took sank into something like liquid shadow, black as ink and heavy as lead. It swallowed his boots with a faint, sucking sound, sending slow ripples through the endless dark.

Above him, faint reels of light spun enormous in the void — thin silver strips coiling and uncoiling, each alive with scenes.

He stood at the center of it all.

And he was not alone.

Two figures waited there.

The first was small — barely more than a boy, his figure wavered like smoke, hollow eyes fixed on the reels above. A teenager, sharp and empty, refusing to look away as if afraid to forget what he saw. Searching. Twisted and fragile as a dying matchstick.

The second was... something else.

An older man, towering fifteen feet tall, clad in emerald robes and silence, scored with scars. His presence filled the space like a storm — oppressive, unyielding, the weight of someone who had fought fate his whole life.

The towering man glanced down at him once, expression unreadable, then turned back to the reels.

Li Qiong said nothing.

He only stood there, silent, and let the visions play.

One by one, the reels unfurled — screams and agony, laughter and crying, shouts of rage and whispers of madness.

A boy, chained to an altar, wrists raw and bleeding.

His hands stabbing another through the ribs in the dark.

Tearing into flesh beside a roaring furnace, gnawing and swallowing with hollow eyes.

Corpses littering battlefields, beasts devouring the sky.

A boy curled in the ashes, laughing like a fool.

Then laughing still — sharp, cruel, maniacal.

And somewhere amid it all, a whisper, his own voice, soft and cruel:

"...Shh."

Li Qiong's hands tightened at his sides.

The memory cut like a blade.

The hidden heir's face. The look in his eyes when they last met.

The girl — Min He.

Before she woke in that inn and called herself great‑granddaughter of Soaring Crane, she'd been nothing but a possession. A plaything dragged into the furnace to scream in the dark.

And Li Qiong... had watched.

A slave. A tool. Shackled by chains stronger than steel — fear, sorrow, betrayal.

Until the day he strangled his master with his own hands and feasted on his flesh.

But by then it was too late.

The heir had seen everything.

And when he became emperor, he sent the empire's knives after them.

The world called him monster.

And maybe... it wasn't wrong.

Li Qiong raised his eyes to the reels.

The towering man still stared. The teenager's breath came quick, but his gaze never wavered.

The man who fought heaven.

The boy who would not look away.

Both of them were him.

And so was he.

The black liquid rippled beneath his feet as he took another step forward.

Silent. Unblinking.

Watching.

Letting the reels of memory burn themselves into him, one by one,

until there was nothing left

but tomorrow.