A shadow in black robes abruptly appeared within the grand hall, instantly drawing every gaze toward it. After a brief wave of surprise, all eyes turned toward Mo Cheng, whose expression had suddenly darkened. Everyone silently pitied the mysterious figure in black—they knew that confronting Mo Cheng publicly was akin to stepping upon his most sensitive nerve. After all, pride was his most treasured possession.
The unexpected emergence of the black-cloaked figure startled Nalan Yanran and Ge Ye as well. They exchanged quick glances—thefigures recognition apparent in their eyes. It was indeed the same mysterious man they had met that day at the inn. Their brows furrowed warily; this individual was not here with peaceful intentions.
“Who are you?” Mo Cheng narrowed his icy gaze down at the shadowed figure on the floor, his voice heavy and stern.
“Are you Mo Cheng? I have some questions for you,” the black-robed silhouette replied calmly. The voice carried no trace of fear in response to Mo Cheng’s fearsome countenance, smooth and youthful as still lake waters.
“Tonight is a joyous occasion for our Mo Sect. I ask you respect this celebration and delay your discussion until after the gala. Does that suit you?” Mo Cheng said in softer tones, a faint sigh releasing from him. Slowly, he stretched his skeletal hand out from his robe sleeves; the hand clenched gently, drawing in the aura of violently intense fiery Dou Qi. Deep crimson rays of energy formed within his grip like flames dancing from some dreadful hearth, casting an eerie glow over his skin.
Black robes trembled subtly as its occupant, with an air of quiet resignation, shook his (invisible) head slightly. Then came a declaration—loud and reckless enough to freeze every soul in attendance:
*”Respect you say? What qualifies you to say such a thing? While the Mo Clan wields considerable power over the northeast, everyone knows—it’s merely a hound of the Yun Ling Sect.” *
Chaos struck the crowd in stunned silence. All eyes widened at the bold blasphemy of the shrouded madman. Was someone really daring enough to provoke Mo Cheng—a butcher capable of drowning the Hurricane Bandits in blood and carnage?
Up atop the terrace, Nalan Yanran paled subtly at hearing her sect referred to with such chilling indifference—not seen in ages, not even since she’d ascended to Yun Ling herself.
Eyes locked in hatred, Mo Cheng surveyed his mysterious challenger, facial muscles twisting with fury; his aged skin contorted into a grotesque form, the corner of his mouth involuntarily jerking while he raised his palm into the air. With the wave of authority, dozens strong warriors clad fully in Mo armor kicked in the doors lining the hall. With bloodthirsty cries they stormed and encircled the lone cloaked interloper like jackals to an intruder.
“It has been decades since someone dared challenge the authority of my family—tonight, you are indeed the first fool bold enough to stir against the Mo Sect.” He spoke now with venom and ice.
Then suddenly the black-cloaked figure stirred slightly aloft—as if gazing contemptuously through the shadowy folds to lock with his eyes. His voice—laced in mockery when spoken—made fury rise uncontrollably in Mo Cheng’s heart:
*”Spare me the dramatic prologue already. Indeed I’m not joking when I say—tonight is here to obliterate your pathetic gathering… you old wretch.”*
His casual laugh sent another ripple of panic across the audience.
“Marvelous… magnificent!” Mo Cheng hissed through clenched teeth, eruptively releasing a savage aura of power that burst from within. Wind violently tugged his clothing taut with the raw intensity of it—shoving aside nearby tables, scattering chairs. Under this oppressive display, benches exploded violently into pieces, leaving shockwaves echoing in every heart.
“Damn… truly his strength has grown with the years!” noted Ge Ye with a trace of surprise beneath his breath, perceptive.
Nalan Yanran tilted her head sideways slightly with hesitation, “Ge Uncle… should we… intervene?”
“Nay,” replied Ge Ye after consideration, voice quiet. “This one bears his own enigma well. Truth is—Mo Sect’s haughtiness has become insufferable in recent years anyway. Even among the sect elders, some grow displeased now. Maybe a lesson would serve him well—remind him he’s far from the only great might remaining across Jasmar!”
Yet, the others surrounding the hall—guests not attuned so deeply—as the oppressive aura swirled in thick waves—grew anxious in the moment as well. Few had actually seen action from Mo Cheng recently. No one had envisioned its strength had so far ascended.
“*Mmmp… surely now at least Five Stars in the Dou Ling Class? Two years, and yet his growth by Three Stages—it’s monstrous!” *The group silently speculated inwardly with dread.
Around the elder of the gathering Mo fighters tensed with weapons gripped tight, their gazes filled with rage, locked solely upon the figure swathed in black robes. Each now exuding heavy bursts of Dou Qi. They waited, coiling into action—to overwhelm their enemy in a tide and cut him to crimson confetti.
“I came here solely for a single soul,” spoke the black robe suddenly, calm and unmoved by escalating pressure radiating from his adversary. “Bring forward that young girl captured at Stone Desert City—Qing Lin.”
The very moment the name left its lips, Mo Cheng’s calm broke entirely. No more idle talk—now his visage transformed to frozen rage. A violent flick with his wrist, and he bellowed with death-chilling malice: **“Kill him.”**
At that command, warriors of the Mo clan roared, and in moments summoned glowing armors of fiery Qi across their skin. Bladed weapons swept through empty space as they swung with precision toward death—only for the cloaked being to not shift the slightest. As their blades neared within lethal striking range—without hesitation or reaction—a ghostly white flame gushed outward around the figure in a blazing torrent.
“Hisssss—!”
The very steel blades cloaked by Dou Qis cracked under contact with the chilling white blaze. Within an eye blink, the steel collapsed in the gaze-horrified crowd into pools of molten heat. Flames then lapped out, catching several fighters unprepared—they shrieked not before white fire danced along skin—then with hollow puffs of sound—vanished entirely to mere ash drifting downward.
A thousand intakes of breath shucked air backward within silent hall.
“This one… he wields Foreign Flame?!?” Ge Ye gasped with disbelief.
A heavy silence grew upon Nalan’s pretty and delicate features, yet she only gave the faintest nod. Her eyes—captivated with grim focus as well—pierced toward where the cloaked figure stood: **This power is monstrous. Truly the Mo Clan has challenged someone untouchable…”**
Another side, Ye Zong zhu of the Ye Clan—also shocked beyond his senses at the terrifying fire spectacle—his expression quickly morphed into sly glee: **Truly, an honor to see Mo Clan finally bite fate.”**
At seeing flames consume the aggressors’ blades—his thoughts grew heavy and dark. The words from black robe only continued in bold challenge:
“Your Mo Clan’s support from the Yun Ling Sect… it is known to me. Even were the sect leader Yun Yun herself to grace this scene, she could not preserve you, Mo Cheng.”
The cold remark from cloaked figure—far more boastful now. However, now none considered arrogance or empty bravado, only truth.
“Give me Qing Lin—and I won’t spill your kin’s blood this very day.” The figure murmured, voice smooth yet now a wave of killing intent crackled through every word as if it breathed into reality a new command—a threat to be heeded.
“I know not what madness fills your head. You claim no grudge—why target Mo Clan like this?”—Mo shouted frantically at an end of his fraying temper—appealing in desperation. “Know well—there IS strength behind this power of yours… our alliance holds formidable weight…”
Black-cloaked figure interrupted once more coldly:
“You think flattery will save this path? Indeed—I spoke already: were Yun Yun herself here tonight—it’d still grant you no shield from my reckoning.”
Calm yet arrogant tone this time—but this time no skepticism lingered within the onlookers—only the chill reminder of the white flame burned deeply in their minds.
Then black steps forward, energy burst crackled beneath his foot. In nearly teleport-like motion—the cloaked one re-appeared behind Mo. The whisper from beside his ear chilled his blood.
“Still you refuse… then *die.*”
Eyes shriveled into tiny pinpoint cores as the terrifying proximity nearly broke his heart. He may waver in spirit, but reputation would not allow defeat. Fiercely Dou Qi burned from within him into raging crimson infernal cloak—his talons like hooked eagle claws now arcing violently toward the opponent’s heart.
Unmoved at swiping talons, the black-clad being’s expression never twitched. As they met palm against palm—a sudden sound—**Crack.** Like bone breaking in snowfall silence. The aged master of might’s expression blanched as he flew backward spewing red with the strike’s power. Landing hard, the man dragged across floor, creating streak marks across many meters of marble tile until motion ceased.
Only moments into battle—and that feared Eastern strongman of Jasmar, Mo Cheng—tossed as flung pestilence—crashed ignominiously, while shock reverberated endlessly through witnesses.
Even though they expected some measure of skill from that first encounter—**none** dared anticipate **this** chasm—of strength—of mastery—a FIVE STAR DOU LING expert, defeated as an ant before a boot.
“What… is he?!” gasped silently all, eyes agape—Was it even Dou Wong? Possibly… even Battle Emperor?
Yet from black folds came the same calm echo:
*Surrender the girl or die.*
**”You seek war against Mo Clan AND Yun Ling!” **cried brokenly the elder, dragging himself from stone floor with stumbling legs while clutching his throat in ragged defiance, trying once again—perhaps in futile attempt—to remind his attacker of looming higher dangers.
With faint sadness, the stranger answered softly, taking another quiet glide step. Moving again like shadow flicker before his wounded foe—who barely registered movement before black hand seized his neck tightly.
“*You disregarded your lifeline… die.*”
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