Cage of the Puppeteer | COTE x Xianxia

Viewer Discretion: Graphic Deciptions Of Violence, Gore

***

As I stood while observing the different herbs and ingredients, a thunderous detonation shook the cavern, forcing all thoughts from my mind. Before anyone else even registered the impact, I felt the surge of Qi and reflexively activated Shadow Slip, letting my body blur into the flickering darkness that lined the cave walls. A black haze enveloped me as I flitted across the uneven floor to a shadowed corner. In that same breath, I glimpsed a massive barrier spiraling up around the cave's perimeter—like a shimmering dome that sealed off every potential exit.

The entire sequence couldn't have lasted more than two seconds, but to me, it felt drawn out, each moment etched in stark detail.

My eyes snapped back to where the explosion originated. The ceiling had splintered apart in a jagged hole, just wide enough for a pair of people to descend. Rock debris tumbled down, and before I could blink, a figure dropped soundlessly through that gap, a flicker of motion so fast it felt surreal. The intruder hurtled straight for Shen Lei and the cluster of female disciples around him, all of whom remained stunned from the sudden blast.

One of the women opened her mouth, voice quavering in a half-formed scream.

"Shen Lei, hel—"

Her plea died before the final word. A black ripple sliced past her with a hideous swish, like the air itself had been violently torn. In the next breath, that ripple crashed against the stony wall behind her, carving a deep, diagonal gash into the rock. At first, she seemed unhurt—just frozen mid-scream—until her body suddenly split down the center. A fountain of blood erupted from the wound as her torso peeled apart. Her shriek melted into a wet gargle as the two halves of her form slid away from each other. Muscle fibers snapped, sending ropes of intestine tumbling out of her stomach cavity in loops of crimson. Brain matter spattered the ground, flung free from her skull's violent cleavage. What remained of her legs twitched reflexively as her severed upper half thudded to the ground. The entire scene painted the nearby rocks with thick, spurting gore.

A second woman tried to stagger back, eyes wide in uncomprehending terror. But another ripple flashed—a condensed Qi strike lancing across the short distance. It punched through her abdomen like a cannonball, blasting a hole the size of a soccer ball clean through. She couldn't even scream, only gasped silently as her guts slid out from the gaping wound. Sections of intestine dangled, blood dribbling in heavy streams. Her heart might've been ruptured or flung aside—I saw dark lumps dropping onto the cave floor. She collapsed limply onto her knees, then pitched forward, a vacant expression on her face even in death.

Two bodies lay shredded in less time than it took to draw a breath. Blood pooled like a slick, reflective lake beneath them, still warm and steaming in the cold cave air. The rest recoiled, many stumbling backward, raw panic contorting their faces. The iron stench of spilled entrails overwhelmed every other smell.

They weren't weak—not by any means. Both women who'd just been slaughtered in an instant had attained the sixth stage of Qi Condensation, considered inner sect elites under normal circumstances. Yet the enemy's sheer lethality outstripped their considerable cultivation, proving that raw power alone wasn't enough to survive a blitzkrieg from these assailants.

Shen Lei, who had stumbled away in shock, finally snapped his gaze upward, eyes flaring with alarm. He seemed paralyzed for only a fraction of a second before raw fury lit his features. Meanwhile, a hush of horror reverberated among the survivors—several trying to quell their choking revulsion, or stepping gingerly around the spreading slick of gore.

I retrieved a talisman every disciple receives when they leave the sect for a mission. This was an emergency talisman—each unique, bound to its owner, with a counterpart within the sect. If activated, it would alert the sect, transmitting both location and distress. Without hesitation, I channeled my Qi into it, attempting activation. Nothing happened. Just as I had anticipated, the barrier didn't merely restrict movement—it also suppressed transmissions. The enemy had planned meticulously, ensuring no outside help could intervene.

I stayed hunched behind a jagged rock formation, eyes trained on the carnage. The two arrivals—one matching Shen Lei's aura level, the other a notch lower—now hovered near the spot of the initial strike. From the hole overhead, ten more cultivators poured in, each exuding a potent killing intent. I heard their leader's roar echo through the cavern walls:

"Kill them all, leave no survivor!"

An unmistakable shift rippled through the cave. Fear pulsed in the eyes of Gao Chen and Gao Wei, their earlier arrogance dissolved to wide-eyed dread. One of them let out a desperate scream. "What are you doing?! Do you even know who you're attacking?! We're from the Nightshade Monastery! The sect will kill you all if you—"

Laughter cut him off—two sneering figures rushed forward, weapons glinting under the pale crystals overhead. "That only means we'll have to butcher every last one of you!" one rasped, face twisted in maniacal glee. "No one to report back, no repercussions!" Another cackled in unison, launching the first savage attack on the brothers.

At the same moment, the two quiet, seventh-stage cultivators on our side broke their silence, lunging to intercept the onslaught. They clashed with a pair of rank-seven enemies, Qi blasting in powerful waves that cracked the cavern floor. Shen Lei, teeth gritted, went straight for the leading attacker, clearly the one who'd initiated the ambush. Soon, the entire chamber descended into chaos: roars of fury and shrieks of terror mingled as swords and Qi blasts crisscrossed in lethal arcs.

We were outnumbered. They had thirteen able fighters, while our side had effectively ten—the two women were already butchered, and I retreated. I felt no guilt over the idea of fleeing. They were obviously doomed; I had no desire to throw my life away for misplaced valor.

Still hidden in the shadows, I watched Gao Chen and Gao Wei battle three enemies at once—a pair of men and a woman, all with grins of bloodlust. The smithing brothers had snatched up their heavy pickaxes, once used for mining ore. Now they wielded them like desperate weapons, arcs of Qi crackling along the iron heads. For a moment, the pair held their own, blocking or deflecting savage swings. But the enemy flank closed in from the sides, corralling them toward a wall.

Under pressure, Gao Wei tried a wide overhead strike. Gao Chen, reeling from a blow, stumbled sideways, inadvertently stepping right into the path of that pickaxe. It crunched into his skull with a sickening squelch, metal head plunging clear through from crown to jaw. The impact was so brutal that the top half of Gao Chen's face peeled apart, sending shards of bone and chunks of brain tissue splattering across the rocky ground. His eyes bulged for a fraction of a second—shock and mortal agony twisting his features—before the life vanished from them. He slumped forward onto Gao Wei's weapon, pinned grotesquely like a ragdoll.

Gao Wei gaped in wide-eyed horror at the carnage he'd just caused, trembling. Hate, guilt, and despair all flashed across his face in an instant. A fleeting thought flickered in my mind: What a fascinating range of emotions. Could I replicate that expression if I tried?

Even as I wondered, an enemy warrior seized the moment. With a savage roar, he swung a large hammer overhead, bringing it down on Gao Wei's skull. The resulting impact burst the man's head like an overripe fruit, releasing a shower of blood and brain pulp that coated the cavern floor. Both sworn brothers collapsed in unison, their limbs tangled in a single pool of gore—their bodies still interlocked by the fatal blow. In life, they'd been brothers. In death, they were fused together by spilled blood and shredded flesh.

Nearby, a woman's shriek rang out—one of Shen Lei's devotees. She and the remaining female disciples had joined in a frantic stand, tears streaking their cheeks at the memory of the two murdered earlier. Despite their rivalry, they were still friends. Their unity couldn't save them from the sudden brutality unfolding around them, though.

A second wave of attackers struck, aiming savage Qi blasts at the trio. The slender woman from our side tried to block with a swirling shield of Qi, but a lance of black energy slammed into her chest, causing her entire torso to rupture in a spray of blood. The rest of her body convulsed in midair, limbs splaying violently as pieces of bone and globs of internal organs scattered onto the cave floor.

"Nooo... Sister Qiuyue!" one of the other women wailed, choking on her sobs. Distracted by grief, she never registered the silver blade whirling her way. It thunked into her forehead with sickening precision, the steel slicing through the bone as if it were soft clay. She made a guttural croak, eyes rolled back, then flopped onto the cavern ground, the sword still embedded in her skull, fresh blood trickling in rivulets.

The two bodies joined the ground sprawl of limbs, saturating the air with the stench of iron and death. All around, the clash of Qi reverberated, savage roars mixing with final cries. Standing discreetly within the shadows, I observed the carnage with a cool detachment. They never had a chance... The thought flickered by. My decision to remain hidden, to avoid direct confrontation, confirmed itself. There was nothing to be gained by dying among them.

Yes, it was a horrifying sight. Gore splattered walls, intestines slid underfoot, and screams of agony ricocheted through the stony halls. Yet I felt no empathy or remorse, merely a slight curiosity at how swiftly all illusions of control vanished when true power arrived. Keeping my breath steady, I kept my posture still—waiting for a window to slip away from the slaughter.

This was no battle—it had never been a battle from the start. It was a massacre, plain and simple. The enemy used their advantage—surprise and disciplined unity—to shatter our lines almost immediately. While our group stumbled with fragmented responses and terrified screams, they executed pinpoint strikes in synchronized pairs, each pair covering the other's blind spots. Attacks rained down in lethal arcs, every blade slash or Qi blast honing in on a vulnerable disciple.

Across the cavern, bodies littered the ground in horrid poses, limbs severed, blood pooling in widening slicks. Frantic echoes of dying cries still reverberated off the stone walls. In one corner, the last female fighter from Shen Lei's entourage battled three attackers at once, her Qi flickering under the relentless pressure. Her features twisted with hate, with grief—and then with a resigned acceptance. At the apex of that moment, one of the enemy cultivators lunged in a savage, decapitating slash. Her head tore free, spinning into the air in a ghastly arc, blood spraying in a wide circle. It landed not far from Shen Lei's feet, face still contorted in rage before all life extinguished. A shudder passed through him as he recognized the calculated cruelty of that move—sending her head his way was more psychological torment than final strike.

Further down the cave, the two seventh-stage Monastery cultivators clung stubbornly to life, unleashing powerful Qi blasts that forced back their enemies. Five from the other side circled around them, battered and bloodstained but still full of fight. Each passing second drained the Qi reserves of the two defenders. Their faces paled with every surge, chests heaving as they flung desperate counterattacks. They wouldn't last long.

I let my gaze travel to the far side of the cavern, where Ren Liqin, Lin Hai, and that haggard Alchemist from my department struggled to fend off a trio of enemies. Lin Hai—only in the fifth stage—had already been at a disadvantage, trying to shield Ren Liqin, who was similarly outmatched. The Alchemist, though sixth stage, lacked the practiced combat skill to match these maniacs.

I heard Lin Hai's frantic shout between blasts of Qi, "Where is Ayanokoji Kiyotaka?!" In the swirl of chaos, the Alchemist answered with a shaking voice, "Probably dead—" but no one had time to confirm. A parted moment was all it took for one stray enemy slash to cleave into Lin Hai's leg, severing it completely from his body at the thigh with a wet chop. He howled in agony, falling onto his back as blood gushed, rapidly staining the already slick floor.

The haggard Alchemist reacted instinctively, head whipping around to see if he could help. That instant of distraction proved fatal: a dark-clad cultivator darted in, hand shaped like a spear of Qi, plunging it through the Alchemist's chest with grisly precision. The man arched, mouth falling open, a fountain of blood spraying from his lips. He let out a choked scream as the intruder's fingers tore deeper into flesh and bone, collapsing in a heap moments after.

Lin Hai still lay on the ground, shrieking, scrabbling uselessly with his remaining limb. The same opponent, eyes blazing with cold bloodlust, launched a ranged Qi attack—a streak of black that sliced across Lin Hai's throat. It opened his neck in a ragged gash, blood spurting in pulsating arcs. His eyes rolled back, and he gargled helplessly, arms twitching. In a matter of heartbeats, he lay still, soaked in his own gore.

Ren Liqin, cornered by another enemy cultivator, let out a cry of despair as she realized help wasn't coming. "I don't want to die!" she screamed, words trailing into a bitter sob. But her assailant answered only with a swift cut, carving into her torso. She choked, eyes wide, before sliding to the cavern floor. Her final breath escaped in a pitiful wheeze, and her body slumped into the pool of viscera that had formed around the others.

Now only three from our side remained: Shen Lei—still engaged in a brutal clash with the enemy leader—and the two seventh-stage cultivators, whose Qi flared weakly as they struggled on. Around them, the floor was carpeted with corpse after corpse, friend and foe drenched in equal measure of gore. Yet tellingly, no one from the enemy side had actually been killed, though many nursed serious injuries. If this slaughter persisted, they would eventually crush the final three.

From my vantage point within a dark recess, I noted it all dispassionately—no stirrings of guilt or heroism to break me from my hiding spot. I had no desire to die, and interfering now meant suicide. Honor was meaningless in the face of this force. Looking across the torn, blood-soaked cavern, I silently concluded that escape—if possible—would be my single priority.

While the dying screams and last-ditch battles echoed off the cavern walls, I tried focusing on the barrier that enclosed us. I'd noticed it soon after the initial ambush—an elaborate formation spanning from wall to ceiling, sealing every escape route. The faint glow along its edges marked the runic lines. Though I was by no means a formation expert, the Abyssal Archive had granted me fragments of knowledge on formations and their structural underpinnings that covered the basics.

It was strong; that much was obvious. But it was also simple enough in design for me to infer its basic principle: each hostile cultivator's Qi fed into the array, maintaining this sealed dome. If I wanted out, I had three theoretically possible routes.

The first was to defuse the formation with advanced skill—a laughable idea, given my limited expertise in that field. Then there was the option to wait for the enemies to deactivate or remove their barrier. That was unlikely since their entire plan hinged on eliminating witnesses, and I didn't want luck to decide my fate.

And then, there was the last option: kill every single one of them, severing their Qi from the formation.

Thirteen enemies at least, all above me in rank, and half of them unscathed. Even the ones who had burned Qi reserves were more than a match for me. It was reminiscent of a lone child against a dozen trained soldiers. A hopeless scenario, yes... but I couldn't accept waiting to be slaughtered.

While my thoughts raced, the battle reached its conclusion. The two seventh-stage cultivators from our side, battered and gasping, made a final stand. I sensed their Qi spike in a desperate surge, but the blasts they unleashed failed to kill the enemies. Moments later, the enemies realized the pair was spent and converged, laughing at the pathetic final struggle.

Realizing they couldn't endure, those cultivators exchanged a glance. One rasped, "Brother Tseng... let's end it here." The other, eyes hollow with resignation, nodded. "Alright, Brother Bo. We'll take them with us."

They gathered what remained of their Qi into their dantians, expressions contorting in final acceptance. A few attackers registered the impending suicidal burst—someone shouted, "Watch out, they're self-destructing!"—but reaction time was too short.

A massive explosion rocked the cavern, drowning out screams and clashing steel in a single, deafening roar. The two cultivators' bodies erupted in white-hot Qi, swallowing a cluster of three enemies in the fiery maelstrom. When the dust settled, all five lay obliterated, no more than blood-misted chunks spattering the cave walls.

From somewhere in the haze, the enemy leader snarled in raw frustration, "Tch! Couldn't they just accept their death like the other?!" His lip curled back, exposing clenched teeth.

Enraged, he whirled toward Shen Lei, who now stood as the last survivor among us, battered but upright. Shen Lei hissed between his teeth, glimpsing the carnage around him—everyone else lay lifeless, viscera strewn across the cave floor in nightmarish heaps. The leader lunged, and Shen Lei met him blow for blow, launching a frenzied barrage. Over the next minutes, the sounds of their duel reverberated.

In a mere five minutes, everyone in my squad brutally died except Shen Lei. I noted them as each fell, body after body dropping in pools of their own blood. What had been a routine resource—gathering mission transformed into a gruesome final stand.

Shen Lei, hissing in despair, let out an agonized roar. "GODDAMMIT!" He then gave a single, deranged laugh—like a man already past saving—then charged the leader with reckless abandon. He bellowed, ignoring any sense of caution. The surge of Qi from his core disciple techniques allowed him, momentarily, to dominate the duel, hammering the leader with dark-laced strikes. The leader coughed blood and staggered back, narrowly defending himself, face pale. But the respite was brief.

Seeing their commander wounded, everyone rushed in, albeit disorganized after the suicidal explosion. Still, sheer numbers told the tale. Shen Lei, wounded and alone, took blow after blow. He refused to guard, opting instead to fire one last lethal strike—a technique I didn't recognize. The swirling Qi smashed into the leader, ripping open his chest in a spray of red. He staggered, pressing one hand to his gushing wound, white with shock. But he didn't die, retreating to the edge of the cave, calling over his shoulder, "Finish him! I need to heal—"

He approached the barrier, which parted at his touch, letting him slip away. That brief exchange confirmed that only their Qi could manipulate the formation.

Shen Lei was left encircled. Though battered, he still stood, eyes ablaze with defiance. Admirable. No arrogance or harem of admirers remained—just a solitary fighter refusing to kneel. But the enemies pressed him from every angle. He swung his fists in wild arcs, parrying or dodging a few strikes, until his Qi flagged. His stance quivered, and one knee hit the ground.

All at once, the foe withdrew a few meters, likely dreading another suicidal detonation.

Shen Lei mocked them with a hollow laugh, blood dripping from his lips as he lifted his head just enough to glare at his enemies. His voice was hoarse but carried an eerie finality.

"Heh... you dogs needed an army... to take down one man..." He coughed violently, fresh crimson staining the ground beneath him. "Pathetic."

His body trembled, his last breath escaping in a wet gasp, and then—he collapsed, face-first into the spreading pool of his own blood.

A collective sigh of relief escaped the nine remaining cultivators once Shen Lei's lifeless form toppled to the blood-slick cave floor. They exchanged grim nods, stepping gingerly over the torn remains of their own fallen and the Monastery corpses scattered in grisly heaps.

One of them, a lean man with a faint scar running down his cheek, muttered, "That was all of them, right?"

Another, short and stocky, responded, "Yes, I don't sense anyone else. We've killed everyone."

A third asked, "Then what now?"

A fourth shrugged, glancing around at the carnage, the severed limbs, mangled torsos, entrails lying in sticky pools. "Elder Wang said he'd come back once he's secured the inheritance. We'll guard this cave in the meantime."

Elder Wang? Inheritance? I noted mentally, still crouched in a shadowy recess. An 'Elder'—likely stronger than the eighth-stage cultivator who led the assault. The mention of the inheritance might explain why they attacked us, though that wasn't probably the entire story.

One of them raised his voice, issuing orders. "Then let's focus on healing for now. But first, search the cave carefully. If you find something, call the rest."

They scattered to different corners, rummaging through the debris of the collapsed ceiling and the random pockets of the cavern. In their minds, no Monastery survivors remained. A fatal assumption.

My chance.

I sized up their positions, letting my eyes skim the gruesome scene—blood-splattered stone, lumps of flesh, Shen Lei's half-slashed remains lying in a pool of thick red. My chest felt tight, not with fear but with cold calculation. Nine foes, scattered. I repressed my Qi fully, slipping out from behind the rocks.

One cultivator—tall, bearded—flopped down to rest, his back turned to me. He rubbed his temples, either from exhaustion or the stress of the battle. Carefully, I crept toward him, each step silent on the wet rock. It reeked of iron and decay, but I paid it no heed. Within two seconds, I stood directly behind him.

Without hesitation, I infused Qi into my fingertips, targeting the exact location of his heart. My hand pierced through his back in a swift plunge, skin and muscle parting with a wet squelch. His eyes went wide; a choked gurgle left his lips. I clamped my other palm over his mouth, muffling his death rattle. He convulsed, warm blood spurting around my embedded hand, drenching my wrist. Before his body could collapse, I dragged him behind the nearby rocks, leaving a scarlet smear on the ground. The entire kill took no longer than two heartbeats.

One down—eight to go. The cold clarity I'd trained myself to maintain never wavered. This was already the third life I'd taken personally. Yet, like before, I felt nothing inside me.

Drawing my Tang Dao, I moved to the next step. I pitched my voice, imitating the victim's husky tone as best I could. "Yu Lim!" I called. "I found something... come quick."

My attempt at mimicry wasn't flawless—my tone remained oddly neutral, missing the emotional lilt. But in this environment, with everyone exhausted and complacent, it proved sufficient. Footsteps echoed as someone approached, weaving between corpses.

"Wei Huan? Where did you go?" he called, rounding a corner formed by the debris. "I'm here—what's—"

He never finished the question. I appeared from the side, Tang Dao raised. In a single fluid thrust, I drove the blade into his chest, angled for the heart. His eyes bulged, his mouth open in silent shock. Bright arterial blood spilled over the weapon's edge, drenching my hand. He attempted to gasp for air, but only managed a strangled croak before his body slumped. In a smooth motion, I dumped him beside his friend, hidden from easy view by the rock piles.

A faint tension coiled in my gut—time was short. The others would notice any delay. I had to keep moving. Another adversary, a short woman sporting a fresh cut on her shoulder, was rummaging near a cluster of fallen stalactites a few paces away. I saw her stiffen out of the corner of my eye; she must've sensed something. Her head jerked in my direction, but it was already too late.

Gloomfang Edge flared along my Tang Dao's steel, dark Qi corroding the air around it. She barely had time to widen her eyes before I swept the blade in a diagonal arc. I felt a brief resistance, then the sword sheared through her from left shoulder to opposite hip. Her body split with a hideous rip, flesh, ribs, and organs flung aside in a spray of gore. She let out a strangled shriek—an attempt at one, at least—blood gushing from the catastrophic wound. Her upper half slid one way, exposed intestines and glistening organs tumbling free, while her lower half collapsed where she stood. One final twitch, then silence.

That made three kills. My heart remained steady. I stared down, letting the blood-sodden remains confirm her end. Far across the chamber, scattered shapes of enemy cultivators still moved, occupied with bandaging wounds or investigating the cavern walls. Some were near each other, which increased the risk that an alarm would be raised. But I had no choice but to push on.

Three were gone—six remained inside. I hissed out a breath, refusing to let my guard down. A single miscalculation and I'd be the one who ends up dead.

I edged carefully along the cavern wall, my senses alert for any sudden movements. Around the curve, a woman in her early twenties with flowing black hair crouched near a cluster of shattered stalagmites, tending to her bruised arm. Through her Qi signature, I gauged she was seventh stage—stronger than the three I'd picked off already.

Ten meters from her, I dared not creep any closer; she might sense me if I did. Instead, I steeled myself, Tang Dao in hand, flooding my legs with Qi. In an instant, I launched forward. A fierce surge flared around me—like a beacon announcing my presence, no doubt dragging every remaining cultivator's attention my way. But I couldn't help it. Speed was paramount.

The cavern floor blurred beneath my feet. The woman's head snapped up in alarm, but I'd already vanished from her line of sight. Appearing directly behind, I poured the Qi I'd gathered into the blade, striking in a long downward slash. She barely twisted half a step, maybe sensing the killing intent at the last breath. Not enough.

The blade ripped straight down her front, from her forehead down to her lower torso. A fleshy rending sound tore through the air as her body divided along that line, skin, and bone splitting in a gush of bright red. In that instant, her eyes were wide, her mouth opening in a silent gasp. Yet, her form collapsed in two halves, organs slopping outward. Blood spurted across my arms, spattering the rock floor with a wet slap. No scream left her lips. She hit the ground, a grotesque sculpture of entrails and severed flesh.

Cries erupted from across the cavern, who witnessed the entire scene unfold.

"What the hell—?!"

"Where did he come from?!"

"Aren't they all supposed to be dead?!"

"NOOOOO! Qiao Yaling—no! You fucking bastard, ...I'LL KILL YOU!"

Several turned, weapons raised or Qi gathering in their palms, rage and panic contorting their features. I refused to give them time to organize. My body ached from the sudden bursts of speed, but I pushed onward. In a single heartbeat, I pivoted toward a weaker disciple—sixth stage—thinking to grab another quick kill. However, a seventh-stage assailant darted to intercept from my left, the one who was the most emotional after I killed the woman called Qiao Yaling. Qi crackling was around his hands.

I bellowed, "Gloomfang Edge!" Our weapons clashed—he'd raised a hasty defense since he'd intended to attack, not block. My Tang Dao, coated in swirling gloom-laced Qi, bashed past his half-formed guard, leaving a deep cleft across his shoulder and upper arm. A roar of pain escaped his throat, and he staggered.

I didn't linger. The rest were converging fast, so I seized the distraction and activated Shimmerstep—my body flickered into multiple silhouettes. The assailants tensed, anticipating another attack.

Again I cried out, "Gloomfang Edge!" feinting that I'd repeat the same finishing slash. The Qi whirled in an arc—but I broke off mid-step, vanished from their direct line of sight, and infused my fist with Shadow Infusion.

Suddenly, I appeared right beside the same cultivator I initially wanted to attack. Eyes wide, he tried to swing his blade, but I slammed my fist into his temple—a blow laced with dark Qi. Cartilage and bone crunched audibly, a wet, sickening snap. He was propelled backward through the air, contorted in agony. Fierce fury flared in his gaze, but he hadn't even finished drawing a breath when his skull collided with the cave wall. The impact was devastating: a dull, brain-splitting crack as the bones of his cranium fractured on the rocky surface. He collapsed, head half-caved in, blood and shards of bone spurting from the ruin. All tension in his body vanished, and he dropped heavily to the ground—yet another lifeless heap among the many.

Panting, my body was drenched with blood, I scanned the area. Their numbers were dropping, though some still circled, confusion and rage fueling them. The stench of fresh blood hung thick, and the cave floor had become a red-smeared battleground. Their leader was gone outside to heal, but at least four enemies remained inside, all apparently fixated on silencing the unexpected reaper in their midst—me.

I took a short step forward, testing my footing on the slick rock. All four of the remaining enemies tensed at once, as though every muscle in their bodies had gone rigid. One of them—the seventh—stage man who'd tried to intercept me earlier—looked near-crazed with grief and fury, presumably enraged by the death of the long-haired woman I'd just cleaved vertically. Another, also seventh stage, stood further back, warily keeping me in his line of sight. The two sixth-stage cultivators hovered at the edges, exchanging anxious glances; they knew I was outnumbered, yet they seemed rattled by my calm.

"Damn you," muttered the man in front, voice shaking. I could sense that he was inches from tearing me limb from limb, presumably because that female victim had meant something to him—a lover or cherished comrade. I couldn't care less about that revelation.

I'd already killed five, but those successes hinged heavily on shock tactics and stealth. Now those remaining four cultivators faced me, prepared to some degree, their eyes flaring with hatred.

I let the Tang Dao hang loosely at my side. Blood from my earlier kills still dripped off the blade, spattering onto the rock in a slow patter. Their gazes darted between me and the blood pooling at my feet. The thick, metallic stench was suffocating.

"He's just a brat," hissed one of the sixth-stage cultivators. "A single kid—he can't—he can't possibly beat us." Yet his voice trembled more than it should, betraying his fear.

"And only fourth stage!" barked the other sixth-stage cultivator, but that boldness rang hollow.

My gaze flickered over them, my killing intent rising. Maybe they believed they could psyche themselves up. I decided to unnerve them further. Quietly, I popped a Qi Replenishing Pill from my pocket, swallowing it in one smooth motion.

One of them, a short, broad-shouldered man, tightened his grip on his spear. "Oi, what's your name, kid?!"

I slid the pill container back into my robe and gave them a deadened look. "I don't see why I should waste my name on corpses."

It wasn't bravado, merely a final attempt to shatter their nerves—and it worked. They bristled with indignation, confusion flickering in their eyes. The tension ratcheted up a notch. Then, in a sudden move, I raised my hand and unleashed a weak flicker of Qi, a ranged projectile that whooshed across the open space.

A female cultivator in sixth stage gasped, dodging at the last second. The slash of Qi zipped by, leaving only a faint scorch on the rock. She planted her feet and sneered. "Missed me! You worthless—" Her words choked off as I calmly spoke:

"Look above you."

She scoffed. "I'm not that stupid, you—" But a frantic voice from behind her suddenly shrieked her name: "Xiao Lifen, watch out up there!"

She froze, blinking upward too late. I'd noticed a loose boulder overhead—the area had partially crumbled from the earlier blasts. My mild Qi attack had dislodged it. Now that massive chunk of rock came plummeting down. It slammed onto the unsuspecting woman with a horrific crunch, flattening her body in an instant. Bones cracked audibly beneath the enormous weight, and the impact was so intense that her torso burst, launching shreds of flesh and gouts of blood outward. The giant stone pinned what remained of her figure to the ground, and all that was visible was a messy splatter of crimson leaking from beneath.

I gave a faint sigh. "I warned you," I said, my voice bored. "And you insisted on ignoring it. Such a pity."

Across the cave, one of the seventh-stage cultivators let out a guttural roar. "You demon—!" He sprinted at me with everything he had, eyes wild, brandishing a jagged saber. I sidestepped easily, his blade narrowly missing my side. He spun, trying a backswing.

I slid my Tang Dao to block, our swords grating in a shower of sparks. "Why the screaming?" I said in an even tone, forcing his weapon off track. "If you wanted to save her, you should've told her to move aside, not just to look up. Isn't it your fault she died?"

He let out a choked snarl, his posture faltering in rage. "Shut your filthy mouth!" he screamed, hacking in a flurry of desperate strikes. The last two cultivators, also incensed, closed in on me as well, forming a small ring. Sharp steel glinted in the shifting gloom. My respite was gone; they had me partially cornered.

One of them lunged, forcing me to dodge sideways. Another's overhead slash whistled toward my left shoulder, and I twisted to intercept it with Dark Veil—my Qi compressing into a tight barrier around that single point. The strike connected with a dull thud, partially absorbed by the concentrated shadow shield. A jolt of pain flared, but not enough to break me.

He reeled back, cursing. "How are you still standing, you damn freak? A mere fourth stage can't do this!" Flicking a quick glance at the others, he barked, "Don't hold back—kill him here and now! If we let a monster like this continue in that blasted Monastery, our sect is finished!"

I stepped back a pace, readying myself for another exchange, faint blood still dripping from the tip. My heart rate remained steady, my mind calm in the face of their alarm. They had reason to fear me, even if I was severely outmatched. And in that fear, I saw my advantage.

I melted into the shadows again, Shadow Slip rendering me a faint blur in the cavern's dark corners. Some of them lashed out at half-seen movement, only to connect with empty air—my body already sliding into another patch of gloom. While they were left guessing, I quickly let Phantom Whispers trickle out. A series of footsteps echoed all around them, circling in the murk.

Startled by the phantom sounds, the remaining three cultivators bunched closer, forming a tight triangle with weapons raised. In my half-hidden vantage, I impersonated the seventh-stage man whose voice had been trembling with rage seconds before. I pitched my tone to mimic his frenzied guilt:

"No, run away!" I shouted, letting my words bounce off the walls.

That man's face twisted in confusion—he recognized his voice but didn't utter it, so he tried to warn his allies that it was a trick. He barely managed to open his mouth when I used Nightcaller's Grasp, sending a twisting tendril of shadow Qi slithering around his jaw. The tendril forced itself between his lips, gagging his attempt to speak. He struggled, but the ephemeral binding couldn't last long. Still, the delay served its purpose. The other two cultivators in the group heard the false cry and sprinted in the opposite direction, leaving him momentarily isolated.

By the time he tore the tendril free, I'd already infused my legs with Qi and hurled myself forward in a burst of speed. Stepping out of the shadows near the sixth-stage cultivator, I appeared behind him so abruptly that he only registered my presence the instant my breath stirred the hairs on the back of his neck.

His eyes widened; I could see terror warping his expression. "Y—!" He tried to sound an alarm, but I had no intention of letting him. With Silent Fang, I channeled a razor-thin thread of shadow Qi into his meridians, disrupting his ability to control Qi. He stiffened, unable to form a barrier or channel his power. In a smooth arc, I slashed. His eyes squeezed shut in denial as he tried to intercept with his bare hands, but the Tang Dao parted both arms in a spray of crimson, slicing them off near the wrists. He howled in agony, only to have his cry silenced mid-scream when the blade continued through his neck. His head tumbled away, accompanied by a grotesque fountain of blood spraying from the severed veins. The rest of his body dropped like a limp rag, joining a pool of gore already formed from earlier kills.

Sudden, furious shouts erupted:

"You monster!"

"Demon—devil—using such cheap tricks!"

Hatred burned in their eyes, but I simply vanished again, slipping behind a huge boulder to gulp down Qi Replenishing Pills. My reserves were nearing rock bottom, each advanced technique pushing me deeper into exhaustion. The pills gave a minimal boost, though I lacked time to fully absorb them.

I reappeared, stepping into the center of the blood-soaked cavern. The final two seventh-stage cultivators spotted me at once, bounding over with murder in their faces. Their leader snarled, "You'll regret all this! I swear you'll-"

I gave a half-shrug. "Didn't you say that line already—back when you had five left?"

"YOU—!" Rage twisted his features. They came at me simultaneously, one lunging from the front while the other dashed from the back. I dodged what I could, Dark Veil smothering any strike too close to avoid. Even so, a few blows grazed me, leaving injuries that stung and added more dark stains to my robe.

When I sensed a chance, I employed Silent Fang once more, jamming a spike of Qi into the enraged cultivator's meridians, temporarily messing with his flow. He stumbled, fury flickering across his eyes, but the other cultivator pressed on, lashing out with Qi-laced blades. This was no longer a stable formation but a frantic brawl, each man consumed by hatred.

They advanced in unison, but I watched for an opening. At last, they overcommitted—thrusting their weapons with no regard for each other's position. I sprang upward at the final moment, a risky overhead jump that soared just high enough. Their blades, aimed at me, found each other instead.

A pair of wet impacts rang out as the swords pierced their fellow cultivators' bodies. The clang of steel on bone, the crunch of penetrating flesh—it formed a gruesome chorus. Both men coughed in shock, blood gurgling in their throats, their eyes bulging with disbelief. They had effectively run each other through, skewering one another in a twisted cross. They stumbled, locked together, thick rivulets of blood trickling down from the impalement points. One opened his mouth in a final condemnation, voice already wet with internal bleeding:

"How... could... the world... let a demon like you... exist...?"

His voice died in a choking sputter, pupils dilating as life abandoned him. The other, pinned at a strange angle, had succumbed moments ago without uttering a word. Their corpses sagged, swords still pinned in each other's torsos, collapsed into a single bloody heap.

A heavy silence finally settled, broken only by my labored breathing. No time remained for me to linger in that blood-slick cave, surrounded by severed limbs and sprawled corpses. I had to leave before the leader—wounded but still alive—and the fabled "Elder Wang" returned. My entire body trembled in protest, each wound flaring with pain, yet I forced my legs to move. Panting, I wiped some of the half-congealed gore from my palms, trying to keep my grip on the Tang Dao steady.

Across the battlefield, the barrier flickered violently, its structure unraveling now that every cultivator linked to it had been slain. Even through the haze of exhaustion, I could feel the weakening Qi currents. The shimmering dome at the cave's entrance trembled, its dissolution accelerating—until at last, it shattered into nothing.

Without hesitation, I retrieved the emergency talisman from my robes—the same one that had failed me before. This time, however, as I channeled my Qi into it, a brilliant blue light flared to life. A faint pulse rippled outward, confirming that the transmission was successful. The sect now knew of the crisis. Help was coming.

Just as I neared the far side of the cavern, an icy prickle raced down my spine. An aura locked onto me. A wave of killing intent bore down, making me pick a fighting position yet again.

Of course, my luck, I thought, letting out a ragged exhale. They must have felt the barrier dissolve. I had no choice but to fight.