The Four Confidantes of the Demon Childe.
Yan Mo, the Crimson Executioner, led the charge. A towering brute clad in blood-red armor, his great sword rested upon his shoulder, dripping with corrosive demonic energy. Legends spoke of him as the slaughterer of a thousand sects, his blade never dulling from the endless blood it consumed. Beside him, Si Yue, the Phantom Widow, moved like a shadow given form. A lithe woman in veiled black robes, her hands adorned with ghost claws, she was said to have eradicated an entire sect in a single night, leaving no trace of her victims but hollow echoes of their screams. Mu Xin, the Silent Reaper, was but a robed figure with no discernible face, shrouded in mist so thick it seemed to consume the very light around him. Rumors whispered that he had no physical body, only a shadow that devoured souls. And then there was Lei Jiang, the Thunder Fist Butcher, a man whose golden lightning surged through his body like caged dragons. His fists had shattered mountains, his power so overwhelming that he once challenged ten sect masters at once and left no survivors.
The disciples of the Sword God Sect went pale at the sight of them.
In the Grand Courtyard, dozens of elders and core disciples stood ready, their swords drawn. The Supreme Elders remained seated in the highest pavilion, observing the situation with narrowed eyes. As the assassins descended from the sky, Yan Mo grinned and drove his great sword into the ground with a loud clang.
"The Hall of Nine Sins greets the Sword God Sect. No need to introduce ourselves… I assume you already know why we are here."
The Fourth Grand Elder stepped forward, his voice calm yet laced with restrained fury. "You dare tread upon our sacred ground? State your purpose, demonic scum."
Yan Mo's grin widened. "We come with a simple offer: Surrender Dao Wei… and we shall spare your sect from complete annihilation."
A heavy silence fell. Some of the younger disciples trembled, but the elders remained firm.
"You believe our sect would hand over one of our own so easily?" the Fourth Grand Elder said, his eyes cold. "You insult the Sword God Sect."
Si Yue laughed softly, her voice like silk laced with venom. "You misunderstand. This is not an offer… it is a mercy. Refuse, and we will burn your sect to the ground."
At that moment, Supreme Elder, Jiang Feng, seated in the pavilion, finally spoke. His voice was quiet but cut through the air like a blade.
"You are mistaken about something."
The Four Confidantes turned their gaze to him, intrigued.
"We are not the ones who need mercy."
He paused.
Then, slowly stood up.
Instantly, the entire sect's sword Qi surged to its peak. Then Jiang Fang gazed down upon them and released his presence.
For the first time, the Four Confidantes of the Hall of Nine Sins stiffened.
The Supreme Elder was stronger than they had anticipated.
Yan Mo's smirk faltered, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his massive great sword. The oppressive sword intent radiating from the elder was unlike anything he had ever faced.
"Tch... seems like we have no choice." His voice, once laced with amusement, turned cold.
He lifted his weapon, pointing it toward the battlefield.
"Kill them all."
A deafening explosion rocked the sect as the battle erupted.
Hundreds of Hall of Nine Sins assassins surged forward, their forms blurred by demonic energy, streaking toward the Sword God Sect's disciples like a swarm of locusts. Their blades gleamed under the moonlight, dripping with curses and venom.
The disciples, bloodied but unbowed, raised their swords in unison. Their sword Qi flared, forming a protective wall of steel and light. The moment the two forces collided, the night shattered into chaos.
Blades clashed. Techniques exploded. Blood painted the courtyard.
Elder Mo Lin lunged toward Yan Mo, his sword shimmering like a meteor descending upon the earth.
CLANG!
Their weapons met with a force that sent a massive shockwave rippling through the battlefield, shattering stone tiles and uprooting trees. Yan Mo grinned, his eyes flashing with malice as he countered with a wide horizontal swing.
Elder Mo Lin twisted his body mid-air, barely dodging the blade's deadly edge. His sword flickered like lightning, stabbing toward Yan Mo's exposed ribs—
But Yan Mo saw through it.
BOOM!
A deafening explosion rocked the battlefield as a burst of demonic energy erupted from Yan Mo's body. Elder Wei gritted his teeth as he was sent skidding backward, his boots carving deep trenches into the stone. The metallic tang of blood filled his mouth, but his grip on his sword remained steady.
Yan Mo took a step forward, his crimson eyes gleaming with amusement. "Not bad… but not enough."
Elder Mo Lin narrowed his eyes, bracing himself. The battle had only just begun.
Amidst the chaos, Si Yue moved like a phantom.
One moment, she was among the assassins, her form flickering like a wisp of smoke. The next, she was gone, vanishing into the darkness.
A core disciple barely had time to react before a chilling presence appeared behind him. A sharp, eerie glow reflected off the curved claws extending from her fingertips.
Swipe!
The disciple's breath caught. A sharp pain tore through his chest as his vision darkened—
Clang!
A blade of radiant light slashed between them, forcing Si Yue back. Sparks erupted as her claws scraped against steel. A female elder stood firm, her sword blazing with holy energy.
"Tch…" Si Yue's lips curled into a snarl. "How annoying."
Without hesitation, she somersaulted backward, dissolving into the shadows once more.
A sickly green mist slithered across the battlefield, creeping along the ground like a living entity.
At its center stood Mu Xin—the Devourer. His arms rose, his lips moving in an ancient, forgotten chant.
The moment the mist touched the disciples, their screams filled the night. Their bodies convulsed violently, souls tearing free from their flesh. Wisps of glowing essence drifted toward Mu Xin's waiting hands, merging into his body like a bottomless abyss.
He inhaled deeply, his face twisting in ecstasy. "Your suffering is my strength."
Desperation filled the ranks of the remaining disciples. A group of them quickly formed a sword formation, golden energy bursting from their blades. In perfect unison, they slashed forward, sending waves of sword Qi to dispel the deadly mist.
Mu Xin clicked his tongue and leaped back, retreating into the shadows. But the damage was done, and in minutes, dozens of disciples lay lifeless, their bodies empty husks.
Thunder roared from above.
Lei Jiang descended like a wrathful god, his bulging muscles crackling with golden lightning. With a mighty leap, he soared into the sky before crashing down—
BOOM!
The impact shattered the sect's protective formation. Defensive barriers crumbled like glass, and shockwaves rippled through the battlefield. The outer walls collapsed, dust and debris filling the air.
Lei Jiang grinned, the savagery in his eyes undeniable. "Pathetic defenses."
Fire spread. Smoke filled the once-pristine courtyards. The scent of blood tainted the sacred grounds that had birthed generations of sword cultivators.
Despite their resistance, the Sword God Sect was on the verge of collapse.
And at the heart of it all stood Yan Mo.
The leader of the Four Confidantes swung his great sword in a wide arc. A crescent wave of demonic energy surged forth, cleaving through disciples as though they were paper. Lifeless bodies fell, their weapons clattering to the ground.
Yan Mo's voice echoed across the battlefield. "The Hall of Nine Sins is here! Bow before us!"
For the first time, fear crept into the hearts of the disciples. They had fought with everything they had… but was this the end?
Their knees trembled. Their grips on their swords loosened.
Yan Mo smirked. He raised his sword, preparing to deliver the final strike—
But then, suddenly the world shifted.
Rumble!
A low hum resonated through the air.
Clang! Clang!
Every sword in the sect trembled violently.
The battlefield fell into hushed silence.
Yan Mo's smirk faltered. His fingers tightened around his blade as he turned toward the towering silhouette of the Ghost Peak. A flicker of unease crossed his face.
"Impossible…"
A golden radiance erupted from the depths of the Sword Tower, tearing through the darkness like a divine decree.
The Supreme Elders watching from the shadows stiffened. Their eyes widened in disbelief.
"He's… ascending."
All swords in the sect trembled slightly. But this time, it was not in fear… It was in acknowledgment.
Deep within the Ghost Peak, Dao Wei stood before a majestic throne. The aura it exuded was suffocating, a presence that demanded absolute submission.
Rumble!
He took a single step forward.
Then another.
With unwavering determination, he ascended the final step and sat on the throne.
The moment he did—the entire Ghost Peak trembled.
RUMBLE!
Golden swords embedded in the walls hummed in resonance. The ancient names carved into the stone floor—legacies of past sword sovereigns—vanished in an instant.
And a new name burned itself into existence.
Dao Wei.
Sovereign.
Far beyond the mortal world, in the celestial realm, an ancient pair of eyes slowly opened.
"Finally, the throne has been claimed."