The teleportation left Riu Xian with a slight head spin, but he shook it off, his senses quickly adjusting to the new environment. Gone was the familiar hum of spiritual energy that permeated the Azure Cloud Sect. Here, near the village, the air felt… empty, void. It was a subtle but disconcerting difference, like a missing heartbeat. This close to the secret realm, a fragment of a mortal world, the very air felt different, devoid of the ambient qi he was used to. The village itself was a collection of ramshackle huts, surrounded by crudely tilled fields. A scene of rustic simplicity, if not for the undercurrent of fear that seemed to cling to the very air, thick and suffocating.
He approached cautiously, his hand never far from the crimson sword strapped to his back. He found the village elder, Zhao, a man stooped with age and worry, near the well in the center of the village. The elder's eyes, filled with a fear that seemed to have taken root long ago, widened slightly as Riu Xian approached.
"You... you are the one sent by Elder Xiao Ming?" Elder Zhao asked, his voice raspy.
"I am," Riu Xian confirmed, keeping his voice even. "I am Riu Xian. Elder Xiao Ming sent me to assist you."
Relief flickered across Elder Zhao's face, but it was quickly replaced by a weary acceptance. Before the elder could speak, Riu Xian's gaze swept over the villagers gathered nearby. He noticed their gaunt faces, their listless movements, and the way they flinched at sudden noises. It was clear that something was deeply wrong.
"Elder Zhao," Riu Xian said, his voice gentle but probing. "What has happened here? The villagers… they look like they've just come through a war. Are they suffering from some illness? Is there a lack of food or some other problem in the village?"
Elder Zhao sighed, a sound heavy with sorrow. He gestured towards the villagers with a trembling hand. "It is worse than any illness, young master. We are under siege, not by disease, but by men. Rogue cultivators..."
He began to recount the horrors inflicted upon his village by the rogue cultivators. A gang of about twenty, all at the Qi Gathering stage, though their leader, a fiend named Fang De, was rumored to be much stronger, a mid-stage Foundation Establishment realm. They had been preying on the village for months, stealing food, supplies, and worse.
"They… they take our women," Elder Zhao stammered, his voice choked with emotion. He struggled to find the words, his eyes filled with a haunting pain. "They... they violate them, then sell them to the slave traders in the black markets. They kill without remorse, young master. Men, women, even the children... they show no mercy." He trailed off, unable to continue, but the pain and horror in his eyes spoke volumes. The images he conjured were brutal, each word a hammer blow to Riu Xian's composure. It was far worse than he had initially imagined.
Riu Xian felt a cold fury coil in his gut. Images flashed through his mind - echoes of his past life in the Murim world, a world rife with its own brand of brutality. He had hoped to leave that life behind, but here, on the fringes of the cultivation world, the same cruelty existed.
"Where are they?" Riu Xian asked, his voice low and tight.
Elder Zhao hesitated, fear warring with a desperate hope in his eyes. "They… they come and go. But they have a camp, not far from here. We are at their mercy."
"No longer," Riu Xian said, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. "I will deal with them." He paused and added, "I need to regain some strength first. I will meditate, undisturbed. But the moment they return..."
Elder Zhao led him to a relatively quiet spot at the edge of the village, a small, unused hut. "Rest here, young master," he said. "I will have someone keep watch."
Riu Xian nodded and entered the hut. He sat in a meditative posture, but true peace eluded him. The elder's words echoed in his mind, painting a vivid picture of the rogues' cruelty. His anger simmered, a dangerous undercurrent beneath his attempts to focus. Hours passed, the silence amplifying his inner turmoil. He was lost in a sea of dark memories and rising fury when a shrill scream pierced the quiet.
It was followed by another, and another, then the unmistakable clang of metal on metal. Riu Xian's eyes snapped open. The rogues had attacked.
A young boy, no older than seven, burst through the hut's entrance, his face pale with terror. "They're here!" he cried, tears streaming down his face. "They're killing everyone!"
Riu Xian was on his feet in an instant, his meditation shattered. He could sense the chaotic energies of the Qi Gathering rogues throughout the village. His anger, no longer a simmer, erupted into a blazing inferno. He checked his spatial ring, making sure the high-grade spirit stone was still secure.
He burst out of the hut and into a scene of chaos. The village was under attack. Several huts were ablaze, the orange flames licking at the night sky, casting long, dancing shadows that distorted the scene into a grotesque parody of life. Villagers screamed, running in terror as the rogue cultivators rampaged through their homes, looting and killing with abandon. Elder Zhao was huddled with a group of women and children, his face etched with terror.
Riu Xian's eyes narrowed. He moved. He was a blur of motion, a crimson streak against the backdrop of fire and fear. He reached the nearest group of rogues, three of them, their faces contorted in savage glee as they cornered an old woman.
Without a word, Riu Xian unleashed his aura. The full, unrestrained pressure of his late-stage Foundation Establishment cultivation slammed into the rogues like a physical force. They froze, their eyes widening in terror as they finally sensed the power of the cultivator before them.
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His crimson sword, humming with a low, almost inaudible thrum, was suddenly in his hands. The air around the blade shimmered with a barely perceptible heat. It moved with a speed and precision that belied his inner turmoil, a dance of death honed over his intense training and during his time in the Murim world.
The first rogue barely had time to raise his crude weapon before Riu Xian's sword, leaving a trail of crimson light in its wake, sliced through his neck, a clean, swift strike that severed his head from his body. The second rogue, his face a mask of horror, tried to flee, but Riu Xian was faster. He lunged forward, his sword piercing the rogue's heart, the tip emerging from his back in a spray of blood. The third rogue, paralyzed by fear, could only watch as Riu Xian turned towards him, his eyes blazing with a cold, deadly light. He didn't even have time to scream before the crimson blade ended his life.
The remaining rogues in the village, witnessing the swift and brutal demise of their comrades, felt a chill of fear crawl down their spines. This was no ordinary cultivator. This was a predator. A desperate, panicked cry went up among them.
"It's a Foundation Establishment expert!" one of them yelled, his voice trembling. "Send the signal! Activate the formation!"
Another rogue fumbled for a transmission talisman, his hands shaking so badly he almost dropped it. He crushed it, sending a desperate plea for help to their leader, Fang De. At the same time a few other rogues began to throw small, inscribed stones onto the ground around Riu Xian, forming a crude but recognizable formation.
Riu Xian didn't hesitate. He knew he couldn't let them complete the formation, whatever its purpose. He moved like a whirlwind, his crimson sword a blur of deadly motion. He cut down two more rogues before they could even react, their bodies falling to the ground with sickening thuds. But it was too late. The last stone fell into place, and the formation activated.
A web of shimmering, dark energy erupted from the stones, forming a cage around Riu Xian. He tested the barrier, his sword striking it with a clang, but it held firm. It wasn't strong, not against his true power, but it was enough to trap him, for now.
From within the crude prison, Riu Xian could see the remaining rogues regrouping, their fear mixed with a desperate hope. They knew they couldn't defeat him in a straight fight, but perhaps the formation could buy them enough time for Fang De to arrive.
Riu Xian stood in the center of the formation, his eyes scanning his surroundings, his mind racing. He had only practiced a fragment of the Draconian Sword technique from the sect library, its intricacies still somewhat unfamiliar. He gripped his crimson sword, channeling his spiritual energy into the blade. He could break the formation, he knew, but brute force might not be the most efficient way. He had no deep knowledge of formations. He closed his eyes for a moment to center himself, to focus his raging energy. Then he remembered the Fiery Tiger Palm, a technique he had created himself, a fusion of the Blazing Phoenix Fist, the Murim Tiger Punch and his own understanding of fire Qi. He had only used it a handful of times, it was still raw and unrefined, but it was powerful, perhaps powerful enough to shatter this crude formation.
His eyes snapped open. He raised his sword, the crimson blade pulsing with power, the air around it growing noticeably hotter. He wouldn't just break the formation; he would obliterate it. He channeled his anger, his frustration, his memories of past injustices into his attack. He focused his fire Qi into his left palm, building the energy of the Fiery Tiger Palm. Simultaneously, he channeled spiritual energy into his right hand, preparing to execute the first stage of the Draconian Sword technique, though it felt clumsy and incomplete. He could feel the two different energies building within him, a volatile mix of physical force, fiery power, and controlled spiritual energy.
Taking a deep breath, he executed a powerful sword strike with his right hand, aiming at what he intuitively felt was a weak point of the formation. As the crimson blade, imbued with the first stage of the Draconian Sword technique, connected with the dark energy barrier, he slammed his left palm, brimming with the energy of the Fiery Tiger Palm, onto the flat of the blade.
"ROAARRR!"
A deafening roar, fierce and filled with a primal fury, erupted not from Riu Xian's throat, but from the sword itself. A massive, spectral tiger, wreathed in crimson flames, materialized from the blade, its eyes burning with the same cold fury that filled Riu Xian's heart. It smelled of fire and ozone, and the very air around it crackled with energy. It was a manifestation of his rage, his power, and his past, all coalesced into a single, devastating attack. This was not a fully formed Fiery Tiger Palm, not yet, but even in this stage, it carried immense power. The incomplete Draconian Sword technique, amplified and distorted by the raw energy of the Fiery Tiger Palm, added an unpredictable, chaotic element to the attack.
The fiery tiger slammed into the formation barrier with the force of a battering ram. The dark energy that formed the cage shattered instantly, the inscribed stones that powered it exploding into dust. The force of the impact threw the remaining rogues off their feet, sending them sprawling across the ground.
As the dust and smoke from the destroyed formation began to clear, Riu Xian stood in the center of the carnage, his chest heaving, his crimson sword dripping with energy. The spectral tiger dissipated, its roar fading into an echo. He could see the bodies of the rogues he had killed, their faces frozen in expressions of terror.
And then he saw him.
Standing at the edge of the village, amidst the flickering flames of the burning huts, was a tall, imposing figure. He was powerfully built, with a scarred face and cold, predatory eyes. He was dressed in dark, tattered robes, and a malevolent aura radiated from him, far stronger than any of the rogues Riu Xian had faced so far. This was Fang De, the mid-stage Foundation Establishment leader of the rogue cultivators. He held a wicked-looking saber in one hand, its blade glinting menacingly in the firelight. The saber seemed to pulse with a dark energy of its own, and the air around it was noticeably colder.
Fang De surveyed the scene, his eyes lingering on the bodies of his fallen men. A cruel smile slowly spread across his face.
"Well, well," he said, his voice a low, guttural growl. "It seems we have a spirited little rat in our midst. I was wondering what was taking my men so long. I was enjoying myself with some new toys, the transmission talisman disturbed me. I see they ran into some... unexpected trouble." His gaze finally settled on Riu Xian, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You're stronger than you look, little rat. But you're still just a rat. And I," he declared, raising his saber, the metal reflecting the firelight, making it seem as if the blade itself was burning, "am the exterminator. And don't worry I will finish you very soon, my women are waiting for me in the camp."
The air crackled with tension, the silence broken only by the crackling of the flames and the distant screams of the villagers. The true battle was about to begin.