Heiyu's patience had run out.

With a surge of anger, he released his Stellar Realm aura, letting its full force blanket the area.

The effect was immediate and devastating.

Liu Yue felt it first—a crushing weight on her chest, as if an invisible stone pressed down on her. Her breathing became labored, each breath a desperate struggle. As the edges of her vision began to blur, she managed only a weak whisper: "V-ven..." before her legs gave out.

The pressure of Heiyu's Stellar Realm qi transformed the landscape. Grass bent low as if caught in a hurricane, trees creaked under the strain, and the lake's surface churned violently.

Liu Yue's consciousness faded just as she saw something impossible - the hooded figure standing perfectly still, as though completely immune to pressure that would have killed any mortal instantly.

"What-" Heiyu started to speak, but his words died in his throat as the figure slowly turned.

Red eyes blazed in the darkness of the hood, illuminating a face that made Heiyu's blood run cold. The skin was a mess of burns and scars, twisted into patterns that seemed to slither as though they were alive. But it wasn't the disfigurement that made Heiyu's knees go weak - it was the aura that suddenly rolled off the figure.

It was like standing at the edge of an abyss that had somehow caught fire. Waves of pure malevolence washed over him, carrying echoes of screams that had never quite faded. This... this was the kind of power he'd felt from the highest elders of the Blood Moon Sect, the ones even other demonic cultivators feared.

"No," Heiyu stumbled backward. "No, please, I left! I swore I'd never reveal the sect's secrets!"

The figure said nothing, but those burning eyes seemed to see right through him, peeling back every layer of deception until his true nature was laid bare.

"I'll do anything!" Heiyu dropped to his knees, pressing his forehead to the ground. "I'll pay any price! Just please, don't-"

"You don't know what it means to be a true demonic cultivator,” the figure whispered.

Heiyu's head snapped up at that, indignation momentarily overriding his terror. "I was an elder of the Blood Moon Sect! I've performed rituals that would make even other demonic cultivators—"

"Playing with darkness while pretending at light." The figure's burning eyes flickered briefly to Liu Yue's unconscious form.

With a gesture that seemed jarringly gentle compared to its terrifying presence, it pulled out a small jade disk from within its robes. The disk floated through the air, coming to rest above the girl's body before expanding into a translucent dome of protective energy.

Bands of qi wrapped around the dome like ribbons of moonlight, carefully lifting it and carrying it back toward the Sun family compound. Only when the protective barrier was well out of range did those burning eyes turn back to Heiyu causing the fake Daoist to scramble backward.

"You're nothing but a common thief wearing stolen robes, too weak to even own your true nature."

The words struck deeper than any blade. How many years had he spent carefully crafting his false persona? How many times had he switched between righteous elder and demonic cultivator, choosing whichever mask best served his interests?

Realising that there was no way he would be able to escape, Heiyu reached for the string of talismans hung around his neck. They were his trump cards, artifacts he'd stolen from the Blood Moon Sect's vaults before fleeing. Each one contained enough power to level a city.

"Stay back!" He channeled his Stellar Realm qi into the first talisman, and crimson lightning exploded outward. The bolts weren't just electricity - they were condensed destruction energy that could atomize anything they touched, filling the air with the scent of burning reality itself.

The hooded figure's hand swept up, trailing shadows like ink through water. Where the lightning struck the darkness, the two energies sparked and warred, sending shockwaves across the lake's surface.

Heiyu didn't waste time.

The second talisman activated, and a wall of black ice erupted from the ground. This wasn't just frozen water - it was crystallized void energy that could freeze the very essence of things. The air around it crackled as moisture instantly crystallized, creating an expanding zone of absolute zero.

The figure's burning eyes flared. A wave of dark flame met the advancing ice, and for a moment the two forces seemed to be equally matched. Steam hissed where they met, but this steam glowed with unnatural colors and burned holes in the ground where it fell.

"Third Gate: Endless Abyss!" Heiyu activated the third talisman.

Reality tore open as dozens of writhing tentacles of pure darkness burst forth. Each one could drain the life force from anything they touched, they raced forward, trying to encircle the figure.

The figure's response was a display of masterful footwork. It danced between the tentacles. Where the shadows did manage to touch its cloak, they seemed to slide off like water from oil.

But Heiyu noticed something - the figure's movements weren't quite as smooth as they should be. There was a slight tremor, a barely perceptible hesitation between steps.

Hope bloomed in Heiyu's chest. His opponent was powerful, yes, but not invincible. Maybe he could actually survive this.

With this realization, he reached for his ultimate weapon - a small bell covered in bloody runes.

"Soul Severance Chime!"

The bell rang out with the voices of a thousand tortured spirits. Reality itself seemed to crack around the sound waves, the very fabric of space warping as the bell's power reached for the figure's soul.

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For a moment, the figure faltered. Its outline blurred, as if its very essence was being pulled apart by the bell's resonance. But then those burning eyes blazed brighter, and a black flame appeared in its raised hand.

The flame was tiny at first, no larger than a candle's flicker. But there was something fundamentally wrong about it - it seemed to bend light around itself, as if it was burning something more essential than mere matter.

The figure flicked its wrist, and the flame expanded explosively. It moved with terrible purpose, not like normal fire at all, but like a living thing with a mind of its own. Where it touched the black ice, the frozen void energy hissed and evaporated. The tentacles tried to drain its power but withered instead, consumed by something even darker than themselves.

Heiyu poured more power into the bell, making the soul-rending sound rise to a fever pitch. But the black flame simply ate the sound itself, leaving behind a silence deeper than the absence of noise.

"No, no, no!" Heiyu tried to run, but his legs wouldn't respond. The flame had wrapped around, but what it was burning wasn't his flesh. He could feel it consuming his spiritual energy, his cultivation base, his inner world, everything he'd spent thousands of years building.

"Please," he whispered one final time, but even those words were consumed by the hungry darkness. The last thing he ever saw was those burning eyes watching him with something almost like pity, or was it disgust?

The black flame reached his core, and Daoist Heiyu - thief, murderer, and pretender - crumbled to ash on the night wind.

The hooded figure stood motionless for a moment, then swayed dangerously to one side like a tree in a storm. One hand shot out to steady itself against empty air before slowly, painfully straightening back to its full height.

When it rose into the air, its flight was anything but smooth. Like a wounded bird struggling to stay aloft, it flew through the sky.

Not far from the Wei compound, the figure's strength finally gave out. Instead of the graceful landing typical of cultivators, it plummeted into a small clearing, crashing hard and tumbling across the ground before coming to rest in a heap of tangled robes.

For several long moments, it lay there, perfectly still except for the ragged rise and fall of its chest. When it finally tried to push itself up, its arms trembled violently, barely able to support its own weight.

A wet, hacking cough shook its frame, and dark liquid splattered the ground beneath its hidden face.

"My love..." A pained voice broke the silence of the clearing.

Wei Ting stepped out from behind a nearby tree with tears in her eyes. She rushed forward, dropping to her knees beside the fallen figure. With gentle hands, she helped it into a sitting position, supporting most of its weight against her shoulder.

"What happened?" she asked softly.

"Took out…the trash," the figure rasped. Another cough wracked its frame, more blood staining the ground. "He didn't understand... the true demonic dao isn't about indulging base desires or wearing masks of righteousness. It's about... accepting the fundamental darkness of existence... understanding that creation requires destruction... that true power comes from embracing the void itself..." A shuddering breath. "But he was just a thief... playing at being both light and dark... understanding neither..."

"You're not part of that world anymore," Wei Ting whispered.

"No," the figure agreed, its burning red eyes dimming slightly. "I let go of that path... for you... for our family..." Another violent cough interrupted its words.

Wei Ting's hand trembled as she reached for the scarred face beneath the hood. The figure turned away sharply, but it couldn’t hide its twisted flesh. "And now this power is killing you," she said, her voice breaking. "Your body can't handle that kind of power anymore, why would you use it again?"

"Better me than our family," the figure growled, though the effect was somewhat ruined by another violent cough. "The Sun family's pet cultivator won't be threatening anyone anymore."

With trembling fingers that looked more like twisted claws, the figure reached beneath its robes and pulled out a white pendant. The chain seemed to be made of pure moonlight, giving off a silver glow that illuminated the clearing around them.

The figure's body went rigid as streams of dark energy were pulled from its flesh, flowing into the pendant like water down a drain. The transformation that followed was both beautiful and terrible to witness.

The twisted scar tissue began to smooth and heal, features rearranging themselves like clay being reshaped by invisible hands. The burning red eyes dimmed and changed, color flowing back into them like ink spreading through water.

Within moments, Wei Ye sat where the horror had been – but this was not the composed patriarch who commanded respect with just his presence.

No. This Wei Ye was pale faced with dark circles beneath his eyes as though he was on the brink of death.

"The boy," he forced out through bloodless lips, "healing..." The words seemed to take the last of his strength. His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed forward, his weight suddenly too much for Wei Ting to support.

She managed to break his fall somewhat, but he still hit the ground hard, the silver pendant falling from his limp fingers to land in the blood-spattered grass.