Chapter 3 The Unforgiven
The sun had not graced Red Hollow Village for days. Thick, dark clouds hung perpetually over the settlement, casting everything in a dreary shade of gray. The once bustling market square was now empty, the stalls abandoned, their owners too afraid to venture outside. Fear clung to the air like a miasma, as rumors of a dark presence approaching had spread like wildfire.
In the village's heart stood the Red Hollow Sect, an ancient order known for their mastery of defensive techniques and their strict adherence to justice. The villagers looked to them for protection, but even the most seasoned cultivators within the sect felt a chill run down their spines as they prepared for what was to come.
Xian Wu approached the village at a steady pace, his expression devoid of emotion. His eyes, however, were filled with a cold determination. This village had once been under the protection of the Jade Moon Sect, the very sect that had betrayed him. Red Hollow had been complicit in his fall, turning a blind eye to the injustice done to him. Now, he had returned-not for vengeance, but for a reckoning.
As Xian Wu entered the village, the once silent town erupted into chaos. The villagers, sensing the ominous aura that surrounded him, fled to their homes, barricading themselves inside. The Red Hollow Sect's disciples emerged from their compound, led by their leader, Elder Yan.
Elder Yan was a tall, imposing figure, his gray beard flowing down to his chest, his eyes sharp and unwavering. He had seen much in his years, but the sight of Xian Wu, radiating malevolent power, made his heart pound with unease.
"Xian Wu," Elder Yan's voice boomed across the village square. "You are not welcome here. Turn back, or face the wrath of the Red Hollow Sect."
Xian Wu's response was a slow, mocking smile. "Wrath? I've faced far worse than anything you can muster, old man. I'm not here for your warnings-I'm here for retribution."
With a flick of his hand, Xian Wu unleashed a wave of blood energy that shot towards the gathered disciples. They responded quickly, forming a protective barrier infused with the sect's unique defensive technique, Ironwood Fortress. The barrier held firm, but Xian Wu's power was relentless. The blood energy battered against it like a storm, each impact reverberating through the ground.
Elder Yan's eyes narrowed. "Prepare the Scarlet Wall Formation!" he commanded. The disciples immediately formed a circle, channeling their energy into a complex formation. A crimson wall of spiritual energy rose around Xian Wu, its glowing surface humming with power.
Xian Wu watched with mild interest. "Impressive," he muttered. "But futile." He raised both hands, and the ground beneath him trembled as he called upon the dark arts of the Blood Devil's Codex.
"Blood Destruction: Sanguine Pulse," Xian Wu intoned, his voice reverberating through the air. The blood-soaked earth responded, sending out waves of dark energy that surged against the Scarlet Wall. The wall shuddered, cracks spiderwebbing across its surface as Xian Wu poured more of his power into the attack.
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The formation held for a moment longer, but the overwhelming force of Xian Wu's attack was too much. With a resounding crack, the Scarlet Wall shattered, and the disciples were thrown back, their bodies hitting the ground with bone-crushing force.
Elder Yan's heart pounded as he realized the extent of Xian Wu's power. The stories, the rumors-none of them had prepared him for this. But he could not allow fear to paralyze him. Drawing his sword, he prepared to engage Xian Wu directly.
Elder Yan's sword, Verdant Fang, was a legendary weapon, passed down through generations of Red Hollow Sect leaders. It glowed with a fierce green light as Elder Yan channeled his energy into it. With a battle cry, he lunged at Xian Wu, the blade cutting through the air with deadly precision.
Xian Wu met the attack head-on, summoning a blade of his own-a weapon formed entirely of congealed blood, pulsing with dark energy. The two weapons clashed, the impact sending shockwaves through the village square.
Elder Yan was a master swordsman, each strike a calculated move, each step precise. But Xian Wu fought with a ferocity that was almost inhuman. His movements were fluid, unpredictable, and his blood blade was an extension of his will, slicing through the air with lethal intent.
The duel was intense, each combatant pushing the other to their limits. But as the fight wore on, it became clear that Xian Wu had the upper hand. His dark powers allowed him to regenerate wounds almost instantly, while Elder Yan's strength was slowly ebbing away.
In a final, desperate move, Elder Yan channeled all his remaining energy into a single, devastating attack. "Verdant Fang: Thousand Blossoms Strike!" he roared, his sword releasing a flurry of energy petals that descended upon Xian Wu like a storm of blades.
But Xian Wu was ready. He summoned a blood shield, deflecting the petals as they rained down upon him. With a roar, he unleashed his counterattack. "Blood Destruction: Crimson Maelstrom!" A whirlwind of blood erupted around him, the force of it tearing through the remnants of Elder Yan's attack and slamming into the elder with terrifying power.
Elder Yan was thrown back, his body crashing into the ground with a sickening thud. He lay there, battered and broken, struggling to rise but unable to. Xian Wu approached slowly, his expression unreadable.
Elder Yan looked up at Xian Wu, his vision fading. "This... this is not the path you should have taken... Xian Wu," he gasped, blood trickling from his mouth.
Xian Wu stared down at the fallen elder, a flicker of something-perhaps regret, perhaps sadness-passing through his eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it came. "It's the only path left to me," he said coldly. With a swift motion, he brought his blood blade down, ending Elder Yan's life.
With the leader of the Red Hollow Sect dead, the remaining disciples scattered, their spirits broken. Xian Wu stood amidst the carnage, his heart heavy with the weight of his actions. But he could not afford to dwell on it. The path of blood and destruction he had chosen required absolute resolve.
As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the devastated village, Xian Wu turned his gaze to the horizon. The power he wielded was immense, but it came at a cost. The memories of those he had slain, the lives he had ruined-they haunted him, a constant reminder of the darkness that had consumed him.
But there was no turning back now. He had burned every bridge, severed every tie to his former life. All that remained was the path ahead, steeped in blood and shadow.
With one last glance at the ruined village, Xian Wu turned and walked away, the sky darkening further as night fell. The village would be forgotten, just another casualty in his quest for power. But the echoes of this day would stay with him, a whisper in the back of his mind, a reminder that even the strongest cannot escape the ghosts of their past.