Outside the borders of the Black Horn Domain, along a mountain path, dozens of figures clad in flowing black robes moved silently forward. After a short march, they halted at the gates of a temple atop the trail. “Who comes there? This domain belongs to the Demon Blade Sect! Intruders are to leave at once!”
As this bizarre group approached, a group of sentries guarding the outer temple gates gripped their demonic-headed blades and brandished their weapons in a fearsome manner.
“Is the Black Horn Domain beyond this mountain path?” an old and commanding voice rang from the front ranks of these cloaked individuals.
“Ha! You dare to ask while already standing before us? Turn back at once or else face death! No one enters here unless their courage outweighs their sense,” retorted a brawny guardsman acting as an underling leader, eyes narrowing with derision.
“The signs don’t lie,” the cloaked figure replied and smiled lightly, lifting back his sleeve to expose his pale bones. “Annihilate — not one soul should remain.”
A low chant of allegiance echoed from his followers:
“Understood.”
At the same moment, the temple guardians sounded an alert — sharp howling notes pierced the valley.
“Fools, you’ve sought your death against the Demon Blade guards!” one warrior screamed mid-blare, however, before he was able to fully complete his boastfulness, shadows surged forward from the intruders. An earth-rending impact engulfed his being — a cloud of red blood burst in the air before his body was shredded to crimson droplets. Even the gates themselves shattered beneath their might into floating powdery debris.
**”The enemy has arrived!”**
With this booming warning resounded across the valley. Moments passed; whooshes of rushing forms tore from the temple’s depths, hundreds — perhaps thousands of warriors wielding glimmering greatswords with razor-sharp reflections glistening under the light of heaven gathered swiftly for combat.
“Who dares challenge the might of the Black Horn’s inner walls and provoke our sect?” called one champion, a master warrior, whose aura matched that of the fiercest斗皇. Stepping out, he prepared for battle. Yet, before he even took his stand, the figure draped in black loomed ghostlike before him and waved an uncanny sleeve.
Thus fell this famed combatant and with him shattered into red ruin under the very eyes of his followers, shock and confusion marking their demise — another crimson mist filled the sky.
“Remove all opposition, and signal other units to move — within the turn of a single day, I desire Black Horn belong only to us.”
The cloaked figure, with voice like ice, commanded the remaining shadows.
At this declaration, the horde moved as one with unity forged in darkness. With but a wave of his cape, torrents of black chains lashed out across the skies, and a merciless slaughter began its performance.
On this same fateful morning, far away from the carnage, **the Gaining Institution gathered for its annual welcoming of novice students to the inner sanctuaries — a joyous occasion.** In celebration, a celebratory festival took place across its hallowed courtyards, a scene bursting over with cheer. Across vast grounds — a gathering teeming with countless souls, cheers erupted like thunder rolling toward mountaintops while several arenas stood amidst the throngs. Upon these platforms, warriors of talent and grace met each other beneath beams of sunlight, their dueling energies casting fierce flaring lights and swift exchanges of bladework echoing like rolling storm drums; victorious combatants stood defiantly upon the battlefield and, with each rise, drew soft sighs mixed amid glances of admiration from nearby maidens.
Throughout campus halls and corridors, vibrant pulses stirred as youths filled heart and limb alike with youthful fervour.
At the plaza’s heart carved two stone figures: one wise-faced like old gods, and another young and sharp of form, so strikingly close in appearance that whispers were whispered amongst newer apprentices.
“Elder sister,” questioned an eager youth surrounded by others, their youthful exuberance bubbling like fountains, “I’ve heard tales about the Principal carved there… but who’s the other? It seems so odd how recently he appears…!”
“These very stones were made by perhaps the Gaining Academy’s finest ever to grace its paths… Do you recall stories of the Pan Sect and Xiao Sect? They trace right back to him! Thanks to his strength paving this road, you newcomers now arrive safe through the Black Horn! Once, every cohort had members fall during treacherous crossings! Such dangers remain fresh from your memories?” the senior beauty gazed knowingly towards those stone faces while answering, a faint sparkle alighted within her eyes.
“Aha! So he sounds really legendary? But…where could he be nowadays? Did he take charge here?”
A chuckling reply followed:
“Afraid not — long gone already; if I remember clearly from past conversation, whispers claim travels took him to Zhongzhou — lands overflowing with heroes unseen — so forget trying to find him!”
“Oh, but Sister wants to!” Another grinned.
“That’s it! — Time for a lesson!”
Atop an overlooking podium, an elder known affectionately as Old One Su surveyed the grand spectacle with pride warming across his ancient expression. However, his thoughts drifted toward those looming statues and, thus caught within memory, his expression faltered in mirth with a knowing grin turning instead into distant contemplation at thoughts of reunions lost by time. “Wonder how little Xiao Yan is doing after all these years… his ambition was immense…”
Indeed — during decades spent at leadership, Gaining Academy had drawn many prodigious talents, yet none truly eclipsed the young figure haunting all memories now. As he whispered that name under the golden embrace of rising morning, voices interrupted his reverie.
**”Elder Su— “**
Su turned to face three newcomers: A trinity stood before — Two women; One man: The woman on the left dressed like a senior guide: robes flowing in elegance — yet beneath the structured fabric moved subtle yet captivating feminine forms, accentuated further still by a rare sight of luscious lengthy limbs; attention followed in her trail with whispers rising of her mastery not in charm alone but also combat finesse far beyond mortal grasp.
Beside her, donned entirely in scarlet with her whip wrapped tightly yet loosely about her slim waist, was infamous among learners who avoided unwanted scrutiny under sharp jade-like eyes watching from afar — the cruel yet brilliant Huntress Ember. Lastly, a quiet male presence stood; his face void of emotion though in his hand rested an imposing heavy broadsword. Just by standing motionless, his pressure bore weighty implications enough for those sensing his presence to recoil instinctively.
Three of a new age, pillars and stars of strength:萧玉 (Xiao Yu), **Huajia** (the Ember enchantress) and **Wuhao**.
In Xiao Yan’s era, these four shared camaraderie bound in the struggle to harness elemental flames, yet now they stood firm among legends themselves. Two summers past saw **Xiao Yu attain the mighty Sage of斗宗** — while others reached near-divine levels just one step beyond that, **Huajia** **flirting at the threshold of斗尊’s peak**, while the same followed with Wuhao. The days of that team — of laughter, of fire-harvesting rivalries had long become memory only stirred by moments like these…
“You’ve been thinking about him, too! Hmph, how many years has it *really* been since he chased little Yunlan?” The Ember mellowed beside Old Su with feistiness, eyes rolling toward Xiao Yan’s monument. A soft sigh escaped **Wuhao:**
“His achievements? They surpass even that thought…”
A smirk curled on **Xiao Yu,’s**, face, eyes glistening:
“Besides what could surpass one who once challenged斗尊 even before the rank came upon his breath?”
The gathered nodded. And even now, amid old friendships and present greatness, even the boldest would say their past rivalries held that same stubborn spark — youthful, boundless.
Chuckling lightly at such youthful retorts amidst his senior position amongst the assembly, **Old Su** rose with composure, while his surroundings quickly filled further still. Murmurs hushed like a forest stilled amidst a breath — hundreds watched in silent anticipation. For this institution **Gaining Academy** thrived in **his leadership** while long forgotten were the tales of another leader: Sky-ward **Jiao Dingt**, a wandering ruler absent far too long. At such moment, however, tranquility vanished:
“Elder, it seems we are— ”
Wuhao’s sharp voice carried command:
“Garrison warriors and elders— ready yourselves for— **combat preparation!!**” His ascent to air summoned warriors from all nooks — shadows flitted to form rings, surrounding festivalgoers within wary circles.
This swift, sudden transformation did puzzle a handful amidst their joy but with guidance calming hearts — panic was evaded as curiosity reigned.
Yet rising gusts howled across skies soon followed and above their skyline — dark horizons grew thick with new forms. A host descending in a wave, black against lightened horizons — and drawing near with the flickering of wings through air…
“This celebration was meant to be a day of peace — I request, please spare us disruption,” Su called upward toward robed specters overhead — sensing from afar something more ominous than just darkened cloaks in morning haze… A dark aroma wafting, something metallic, foul and unmistakable…
“Peace you call it…” came reply, smooth like winter winds from the group’s central leader.
Releasing hood, a haggard form stepped forth under cold eyes.
“Step carefully, for your survival requires that all leave the Black Horn within just a single cycle of an hour.”
Silent glances exchanged. A breath drawn in disbelief. Even Su hardened — sensing the presence before them not easily read, its might cloaked like shadow in moonlight. He refrained, caution laced voice cutting tense silence:
“Kind words indeed… though their meaning is not welcome.”
With calm indifference, the hooded figure replied — voice as dead leaves upon an empty path:
“If peace must take time we do not have, so let destruction answer — children though they may be.”
Outright outrage ignited in glances exchanged across the crowd gathered below…
**”Did you know,”**
spoke one figure amidst the skyborne, drawing the central being’s gaze toward the plaza far below and a certain statue that drew their attention. **“…that one… could belong to Xiao Yan…”**
A silence so frigid followed… Before **”Soulor Ebon”** — the elder’s name — his dark robes flared as a wave crashed against his heart.
“Indeed! Could you have told me earlier! That one…” his breath turned feral. “*He is…* the one that destroyed my soul-sect!!”
With those words bared into sky, eyes widened across land as shadows swarmed with malice. **Sudden recognition burned in memory — of the past war, an unforgiving hatred awakened by history buried…**
“Soulor’s wrath be answered,” Soulor Ebon’s voice cracked across mountain ridges, skies filled with rising darkness — “Slaughter. Annihilate the living. Leave naught a single breath!” The slaughter had begun…
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