An unhinged laugh resounded through the blood soaked ruins of a frontier town, near the north-eastern borders of the Greatest Empire, the sheer wrongness of its cadence alone enough to rupture the eardrums of mortals and cause irreversible damage to their brain meats.
This horrible sound was echoed by dozens upon dozens of individuals, their rags clad forms covered in drying bodily fluids and cooling viscera, their crazed grins and unholy presence marking them without a shadow of a doubt as heretical cultivators.
“Do not falter my soldiers!” A heroic shout pushed back against the malefic cackle, calling out to its brethren in solidarity. “Stand straight and show these rabid beasts the might of our general’s army!”
The dashing form of Fang Mengyao, a chosen Captain of the Greatest General of the East, Shen Zhen Shi, stepped forward valiantly, immediately stealing away the attention of both soldiers and heretics alike.
His lean and muscular form, clad in polished silvery armor, seemed to glow in an inner radiance, casting away doubts and fears, while the hearts of his men beat faster in a roaring avalanche of adrenaline brought about by the sheer force of his charisma and presence.
[Choir of Victory]
Platinum hair whipped fiercely in the air as he invoked his spiritual art, rousing his soldiers' spirits and shielding their minds from the powers of their foul enemy. Aristocratic features twisted into a disdainful frown, as two imperious teal orbs met a pair of pale green pupils shining with barely contained madness.
The leader of the heretics, Shen Xue, stepped forward in a mirrored movement to his own, a smile plastered on his face, far too genuine for the occasion.
The heretic’s fiery red hair hung loosely down to his shoulders, the blood caked locks framing the mad cultivator’s handsome face, marred only by smudges of filth and an undeniable deranged glint in his eyes.
Unlike his subordinates, he had some actual clothes on. A fairly worn cultivator robe hugged his body, with the occasional tear in the fabric showing that he had not gained possession of it through any legitimate means, but lifted it off the corpse of a dead cultivator, more than likely laid low by the man himself. Its original color had been lost to time, now repainted with blood in different shades of crimson.
“Ooooh, I can’t believe I finally got to meetcha! I’ve been waiting to fight with the great Fang Mengyao since I first heard ‘bout you a week ago!” His excited prattle was heavily accented, marking him as a common man of low birth, and his choice of words would have made the platinum haired Captain think he was mocking him if it weren’t for his positively ecstatic and guileless tone.
Mengyao did not deign him with an answer, simply reaching behind his back for his chosen weapon, a greatly decorated greatsword which looked more like an oversized and weirdly angular saber than a normal two handed sword, bringing it to bear in a two handed grip in front of him.
Shen Xue’s already cheek pulling smile widened even further, starting to look mildly grotesque as his face seemed to twist around it. In another mirrored movement, he grasped a crimson handle coming from his back pulling his own weapon into a loose one handed stance.
The captain’s eyes narrowed as he laid his eyes on the infamous blade for the first time.
The reports did not do the unholy instrument justice, he thought to himself as he watched the naked flesh that made up the oddly proportioned weapon pulsate as if alive, something he wasn’t entirely sure was too far off the mark.
From what he’d read, the bloody weapon had been composed of meat and nothing else on the heretic’s last sighting, but now, the armored cultivator could see bits and pieces of white bone sticking out of the monstrous weapon, small razor sharp and serrated triangles like the teeth of a shark, running along the base of the blade and at the center of its fuller.
That left only two possibilities. Either the people who’d seen it before had been too frantic or preoccupied at the time to get a good look at Shen Xue’s weapon, an altogether possible, considering the man's violent and murderous ways, if wishful possibility, or the weapon itself had changed and grown since then, something that Mengyao found both far more likely and which he dearly wished he was wrong about.
Because that would mean that the heretical cultivator standing before him had somehow created a Spiritual Weapon for himself.
The teal eyed soldier had never seen a Spiritual Weapon in person before, which was why he could not be completely sure. As far as he knew, there were less than ten known Spiritual Weapons that could be found in the entirety of the Greatest Empire, with a good part of them being held by the imperial family for 'safekeeping'.
That might seem like a staggeringly low amount to someone not familiar with them, but anyone with even a passing knowledge of the matter knew the reason behind their small number.
Simply put, nobody knew how to create them, or at least nobody went around saying they'd figured out the method. All of the Spiritual Weapons currently in circulation had been created by complete accident by the greatest master smiths all around the Empire, with none of them managing to figure out what factor had led to such a miracle being born under their hammers, let alone actually being able to recreate such an occurrence.
Rumor said that some of the weapon masters who were blessed with such creations had lost themselves trying to find out the secret behind their birth and subsequently went insane from the repeated failures, and inwardly, the captain could not help but empathize with them, even if he would always berate such weakness in front of his soldiers.
An indestructible weapon that not only grew alongside its wielder but which also conformed perfectly to one's Path and also acted as a trusted and completely loyal companion to its bearer?
Cultivators had killed for far less...
So, with all of this taken into account, Mengyao believed that the envious and concerned look he gave the living blade was entirely warranted.
"Ohoh!" Exclaimed Shen Xue, noticing his stare. "You interested in my lil' buddy over here?"
Stolen novel; please report.
The heretic shook the oversized weapon for added effect, instantly putting Fang Mengyao back on high alert. "Y'see, I get it." He said with a solemn nod. "This guy here's my pride and joy, raised him up since he was just a tiny dagger. I had to stab a whole lot of people to feed him nice and good!" His smile turned positively vicious then. "And now look at him! All grown up!" With pride shining in his voice he hefted the greatsword-spear hybrid into the air, the flesh and blood sword quivering in a repulsive show of elation.
A beat later, seeing that nobody was willing to play along with him, Shen Xue let out a despondent sigh. "But still, he's not done growing, and he's getting hungrier and hungrier..." His pale green orbs rose to Mengyao's face once again, the frenzy in his eyes having cooled slightly into something altogether far more dangerous. "So why don't you and your pals give me one or three hands with my little problem?"
With a sudden leap that cracked the earth around him, Shen Xue arrived directly in front of Fang Mengyao, his reckless lunge stopped only by the armored captain's own blade, brought up in a perfect guard even before the bloodied cultivator had finished his last comment.
The platinum haired soldier could not help but sneer derisively at such a pathetic excuse for a surprise attack, although the expression was mostly for his soldiers, who took heart from his mocking expression towards their opponent.
With a spiritual energy enhanced push, Mengyao sent the heretic leader flying up into the skies, following him less than a second later as he took flight with an internal flex of his still undeployed Domain.
The world turned to red for just a moment, a clear sign that the heretical cultivator was done playing around, but Mengyao was unable to get a good look at the momentary impression of his foe's Inner World as Shen Xue had shrouded it from his sight with some unknown method.
The captain's teal eyes narrowed. Strange, very strange.
How could such a low born man hold so many mysterious means? Could it be that there was someone else behind him, backing his insane rampages through the Empire's borders?
Fang Mengyao had no idea, and right now it wasn't really relevant, he could investigate his background and possible connections in depth once he felled the insane cultivator.
His own Domain distended past his skin, seeping into his armor and no further, bringing its existence in sync with his own.
This was his Path. The way of a soldier, a defender of the Empire who would stand proud and unbroken before those who sought to strike down at its citizens.
[One Hundred Radiant Steps]
[Platinum Mantle]
[Sword Luminence]
These and more spiritual arts were invoked in a single moment, bringing the gestalt existence of man and armor into a state of peak combat potential.
With a warcry roaring past his teeth, Fang Mengyao tore through the space that separated him from his foe, meeting the eager heretic with a slash of his blade as Shen Xue did much the same, now clad in his own suit of enhancing spiritual arts.
The echo of their confrontation was earthshaking, a shockwave of such power that the people fighting below them would have been reduced to little more than meat paste had the eastern captain not shunted it into his Inner World, where it was promptly rendered null by his will.
Fang Mengyao's Domain surged, adhering to his blade as he performed an attack powered by the weight of his world.
This is what all fights between Domain bearing cultivators ultimately boiled down to, beyond all the skill and the tactics, and the experience of the combatants. Whose world was heavier, whose Domain could more freely act upon reality?
And as Shen Xue responded to his attack with a similarly Domain empowered strike, Fang Mengyao found himself being pushed back.
The platinum haired captain's eyes widened in alarm. How was this possible?!
It was common knowledge to most practitioners that heretic cultivators were despised by the Heavens with far more intensity than normal cultivators. Most of them did not survive their First Tribulation, and those that did were subjected to an even more grueling suppression of their Domain than that of anybody else.
So how could the man before him exert such strength while being rejected by the Heavens? With a quick scan, he made sure that he'd sensed his opponent's power correctly.
Early into the Ethereal Realm, just like him. Which made no sense considering the weight he could feel pressing against his Domain. Was this more proof that someone was behind the bloody cultivator, feeding him secret methods and forbidden techniques?
Shen Xue smirked down at him, still holding his blade with a single hand. He looked almost casual, his grip steady and his stance unburdened by Mengyao's efforts. "What's wrong pal? You look like you swallowed a frog or something."
The teal eyed soldier snarled in rage at the heretic's mocking, shifting his stance so that he could push more effectively against the unholy blade. But it was no use.
With a flick of his blade, the red haired cultivator sent him spinning through the air, his body enveloped in an arc of crimson energy that simultaneously corroded at his physical form and the domain pervading his armor.
The captain let out a groan of discomfort as the skin crawling red light dissipated after a moment, pushed away by his own spiritual energy.
With gritted teeth, Fang Mengyao steadied himself in the air and entered a particular stance, taking advantage of his opponent's willingness to let him retaliate at his own pace.
The difference between them was too great, he realized with cold detachment, a prolonged fight could only end with his demise. So, he concluded, the only viable option left to him was trying to end their confrontation with a single overwhelming strike.
Briefly, the notion of running away and leaving his men behind passed through his brain, but it was discarded immediately. If he was to die today, then he would meet his end facing his opponent like a man, with a sword in hand and his brothers fighting with him, even if only in spirit.
With a deep steadying breath, Fang Mengyao raised his blade above him, gathering all of his spiritual energy, Intent, and Domain together into a singular all encompassing purpose.
[Luminary]
Rays of platinum brilliance exploded from his armored body, surging around him and pushing him towards Shen Xue at a speed faster than that of a beam of sunlight.
An overhead strike, aiming for the heretic's dome, was his chosen method of execution, and as his blade inexorably raced towards the defenseless cultivator, Mengyao could not help but grin when he saw that his foe had failed to even react to his sudden move.
"Repent for your sins in your next life!" With a triumphant howl, the platinum haired soldier delivered his strike with the full force of his being, impacting the head of the heretic with no obstruction.
Metal groaned. A blade shattered. Fang Mengyao's spiritual energy and Domain were scattered and sent into disarray.
"Man, what bummer." His heated foe's voice reached his ears. "I kind of expected a bit more outta you."
The teal eyed captain's armor was shorn like fresh grass, the unholy blade penetrating deep into his flesh and ripping itself out of his back.
"Oh well, a meal's a meal." Mengyao choked on his own blood, desperately reaching for any scrap of power left to him in a vain hope for survival.
"Bottoms up buddy!" Pure agony enveloped the easter captain's mind, body, and soul as a foreign energy seeped into every crevice of his being.
A power that he'd never felt before, so malevolent and hateful that it threatened to consume his mind with madness at any moment. It was different from spiritual energy, feeling more like a twisted mirror to his Intent, but he had no time to consider what this actually meant as his existence was finally saturated with the energy.
A bizarre sensation overtook his body, and with the last glimmer of conscious thought still left to him, Fang Mengyao finally figured out how exactly this heretic, Shen Xue, had been able to create his instrument of terror.
It was eating him, but not just his flesh. His spiritual energy, his Intent, his Domain, his Inner World. It was consuming everything he had, everything that he was, until there was nothing left to swallow.
As the man once known as Fang Mengyao ceased to exist, he could not help but pray from the bottom of his now chewed up heart that none of his men would end up sharing his wretched fate.