The Hiding Demon Sect, a small and relatively obscure sect nestled in a modest forest beside the vast desert of the Wildlands, wasn't anything out of the ordinary. It was a place where the mundane and the mysterious coexisted, its unremarkable stature belied by the occasional tales of dark cultivation that whispered through the trees.
Qin Hao, his confidence wavering, walked up to the sect's gates, which were surprisingly unguarded. With a hesitant push, he opened the heavy wooden doors and stepped inside.
“An envoy of the HEAVENLY DIVINE DEMON SECT has arrived!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the courtyard. The shout hung in the air for a moment before dissipating into silence.
Inside the main hall of the Hiding Demon Sect, three old men sat together, drinking from ornate cups filled with potent alcohol. The sect leader, Tian Yu, a stoic figure with an eyepatch that added to his aura of mystery, was flanked by the two elders, Bu and Lu.
“A mere envoy expects us to greet him at the door?” Elder Bu grumbled, his voice laced with disdain.
“Let him wait. He’ll come up here eventually,” Elder Lu added with a dismissive wave of his hand.
Tian Yu, ever the quiet one, simply continued drinking, his thoughts veiled behind a calm exterior.
Meanwhile, outside the gates, a small crowd of disciples had begun to gather. Nearly two minutes had passed, and the silence from the sect’s leaders was beginning to wear on Qin Hao’s nerves. He turned to Feng Zhiming, his expression conflicted.
“Senior brother, it seems the higher-ups of the sect are busy. Should I take you to the main hall?” Qin Hao asked, his voice filled with uncertainty.
The crowd, sensing the envoy's growing discomfort, began to whisper among themselves.
“This is all an envoy is worth? The leader couldn’t care less.”
“That woman beside him is so beautiful. I wonder how much she costs.”
“Privileged young master,” another muttered, his voice dripping with contempt.
Anissa, her patience wearing thin, began to step forward, but Feng Zhiming held up a hand, signaling her to stop. He had a plan—a way to address this blatant disrespect that would leave a lasting impression.
His eyes narrowed as he picked out three disciples in the crowd, the ones who had been the loudest in their mockery. They stared back at him, as if challenging him, unaware of the consequences that awaited them.
“Do your elders not teach you respect?” Feng Zhiming asked, his voice calm but laced with a dangerous edge as he slowly raised his right hand.
“H-” The first disciple began to stammer out a response, but before he could finish, Feng Zhiming's hand snapped forward.
Slap
The disciple was launched across the sect, his body hurtling through the air before smashing into the main hall with a sickening thud.
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The crowd gasped, shocked into silence, but before they could react further, Feng Zhiming turned his gaze to the second disciple.
“Sorr—” the second disciple tried to apologize, his voice trembling, but he was met with the same fate.
Slap
Smash
“It was not our inte—” The third one attempted to reason, his voice filled with desperation, but Feng Zhiming wasn’t interested in conversation.
Slap
Smash
Three disciples for the three old men who had shown him such disrespect.
“Anyone else who has a staring problem should be prepared to lose their eyes,” Feng Zhiming declared, his voice cold and deadly as he glared at the remaining disciples. The crowd dispersed almost immediately, fear gripping their hearts.
He had no more time for games. The Assembly’s latest announcement had made it clear that they wanted the creature of the Wildlands dead at all costs. This wasn’t just about entertainment anymore—there was something about that creature that had the Assembly desperate, and desperation in beings of immense power was a sign that something far more dangerous was at play.
Feng Zhiming’s instincts told him that this creature was not a mere demon beast. It was something else, something that held greater value to the Assembly than anything else right now.
Qin Hao, standing beside him, was in awe of Feng Zhiming’s methods. This, he thought, was how a man should handle disrespect—with absolute, unwavering dominance.
“Get going now,” Feng Zhiming instructed Qin Hao and Zhu Li.
They quickly obeyed, making themselves scarce. Anissa, watching the scene unfold, silently approved of Feng Zhiming's approach. In the world of demonic cultivation, weakness was a death sentence, a clear invitation to become someone else’s stepping stone. To survive and thrive, one had to make it known that any attempt to trample them would result in a grim fate.
Feng Zhiming placed his hands behind his back as he watched three figures flying toward him from the main hall. The two elders, Bu and Lu, had nothing particularly impressive about them—merely older men with weathered faces and robes now stained with the blood of the disciples Feng Zhiming had dispatched. The sect leader, Tian Yu, however, stood out with his eyepatch, a rare choice of fashion for cultivators and one that hinted at a story yet untold.
The two elders landed first, their expressions twisted in fury.
“YOU DARE?! Even if you are from the Heavenly Divine Demon Sect, you can’t go around murdering our disciples!” Elder Bu spat out, still a little tipsy from the alcohol he had been drinking.
“Indeed! There is a limit to arrogance, youngster,” Elder Lu added, his tone equally filled with anger.
Feng Zhiming merely smirked and spat on the ground near their feet, a gesture of utter disdain.
The elders, their tempers flaring, prepared to attack. How dare this young upstart show them such disrespect?
But before they could move, Tian Yu raised his arm, stopping them in their tracks. He cupped his hands toward Feng Zhiming in a gesture of respect.
“Little friend, may we ask who has sent the envoy this time?” Tian Yu inquired, his voice measured and calm despite the tension in the air.
Feng Zhiming frowned slightly but then produced a token from his robe. “I have been directly ordered by the second elder,” he said, his voice firm.
The token, marked with the insignia of the Heavenly Divine Demon Sect, was the only item the second elder had granted him before his departure, specifically for situations like this.
Tian Yu studied the token for a moment, his expression contemplative, before nodding. “Please come and have a seat in the main hall. We can discuss this in private.”
Feng Zhiming and Anissa flew over to the main hall, noting the three gaping holes in the structure but entering nonetheless. The damage was a testament to the price of disrespect.
Without waiting to be ushered in, Feng Zhiming strode into the hall and sat in the seat meant for the sect leader. He settled into the large chair, almost a throne, and looked around as if he owned the place.
"PRESUMPTUOUS!" The two elders were furious, their faces turning red with rage, but Tian Yu, ever the voice of reason, calmed them down.
“How can we serve the second elder?” Tian Yu asked, standing before Feng Zhiming with a cautious respect.
Feng Zhiming leaned back into the chair, a smirk playing on his lips. “You can serve me by going to battle.”