Insurmountable! Dripping with verdant vitality, the willow bough glistened with emerald light. Seemingly soft to the eye, it actually proved harder than divine metal when it suddenly swung. With a “plop”, it skewered a soaring jiao dragon mid-air. Blood tricked down the luminous green strands like eerie ribbons, mysterious and otherworldly. The helpless jiao dragon gave forth not a sound. Within an instant, the dragon’s brilliant scales dulled and paled; engulfed in terror and panic, its essential life-force drained away, body trembling intensely.
“What happened?! Uncle Jiao!” Jiao Peng, perched atop the fierce jiao dragon, erupted in terrified shouting. His heart gripped in uncertainty. The horrifying sight unfolded before every eye—a mighty dragon with the girth of a massive vat, soaring dozens of meters through the air, armored in dense scales, with wide, powerful wings, yet pierced and held helpless in midair by a delicate, slender willow limb. Utterly surreal!
“How did it come to this?!” all the cultivators gasped as one. Could this truly be a guardian divine beast of a rustic mountain village? And could a guardian so terrifyingly powerful even exist? After a solitary, single strike, it had already impaled a formidable ferocious beast through its very body!
“Quickly, save it!” shouted Jiao Cang from Luo Fu marsh, his middle-aged frame vibrating. From within the groved shadows surged forth more than a dozen figures flying in rapidly from all angles. Bright lights flared within palms. Radiant Glyphs flashed as a dazzling storm surged through the skies, covering the entire clearing as these people attacked the willow tree.
Rays, Zi Shan clan, Golden Wolf Tribe…each felt a shudder creep through their chests. It turns out Luo Fu marsh appeared to bring only a handful forward at the onset—unbeknownst to many, a clandestine troop closely followed. Clearly, all had come well-prepared.
However, it was too late. Almost impossibly fast, within the time it took lightning to strike and fireflies to flare, from impalement to its rapid deterioration into a broken ruin, before long the once-powerful beast’s lifeless orbs went dim. Its gleaming, shimmering scales appeared as if decayed for millennia, cracking wide open as its entire frame aged rapidly and crumbled apart with a terrifying final crash.
The scene turned into something utterly unimaginable, a monstrous jiao beast that stood as a terrifying force, matching in battle-strength even the gathered masters on site had met its grave—utterly reduced to dust, as though felled by age itself!
Crazed with shock, Jiao Peng collapsed earthward as fright consumed him entirely, too stunned by sheer terror. He rolled and scrambled backward in his frenzied escape, all pride utterly destroyed, his once-bold face blanched white, body trembling without cease.
Atop the emerald tender branch, droplets of grayish liquid quivered and glimmered with vibrant vigor—exiled from the dead beast and now completely integrated within the willow’s essence.
All this transpired in the brief interval of electric lightning. The pierced jiao dragon shattered within moments before plummeting to the earth below.
Coincidentally yet precisely timed with their arrival, a dozen of the most powerful cultivators leapt from the primitive forest. Their diverse illuminations erupted as magical glyphs filled the atmosphere; ghostly visions of ancient birds, forms of ferocious beast phantoms danced and surrounded the blackened Silkwil tree in dazzling glory—intending the tree’s doom.
“Zzxxiiiii!” The willow’s branch shot outward and transformed into an exquisite jade green chain weaving a graceful arc through the sky. Despite seeming weightless and crystal-clear at first glance, this delicate strike left unspeakable carnage in its wake.
“PFFT!” It swept through the melee and neatly bisected a master mid-charge, seemingly fragile yet possessing terrifying slicing might. Directly cleaved in halves, spurts of warm red erupted high into the heavens. “What in the seven hells was that?!” All cultivators shrieked simultaneously in terror!
Tragically—for what came next was merely the beginning. Every expert who closed within that vicinity fell within the reach of the jade glowing range. The willow branches swayed like dancers, releasing thread-like waves of luminous greens. Across the firmament like a divine whip, yet similar as divine sword, each wave cleaving and obliterating master after powerful master mid-step through space with chilling efficiency.
This was a sight of ultimate terror. Such devastating power wielded by just a single humble willow, capable of cleaving apart an enemy like the finest steel!
“Pft. Pft.” Blood splattered and rang in endless notes. Effortlessly graceful in swings, it felled entire clusters of warriors—some split neatly crosswise in two, others sheared longitudinally as if through mist. Again and again bloomed crimson sprays—each an artistic death bloom upon the canvas of the ground around.
By the horizon’s edge, the dying sun dyed earth with its parting radiance; golden twilight bathed the village as though bathed in holy blessing from beyond the firmament—illuminating against those golden hues stood a scorched Silkwil tree, a single tender fresh branch quivered above in elegant motion, resplendent like crystal, impossibly graceful amid such death.
A tableau imprinted forever within all the observers’ minds would remain for all time unforgettable.
Just…one lone branch…capable of slicing open destiny’s tapestry so effortlessly, annihilating without hesitation those powerful masters, all within an instant. There had not even been the smallest margin of struggle.
“Aaaaahh—!”
Wailing, Jiao Peng screamed aloud again and again, horrified beyond words, a few corpses landed beside him, dowsing his head-to-toe in warm dragon blood as he rolled over screaming while running back for aid.
Middle-aged Jiao Cang, representative of Luo Fu marsh’s might, found only pallid despair as he drained entirely devoid of color in his once-composed countenance, chilled sweat dowsing his limbs while dread loomed thick in his chest. To what level of sheer power had this guardian beast attained?
Even these masters from moments ago so confidently self-assured—each a heavy-handed over-lord in their respective domains—stared vacantly with disassociation overtaking minds en mass.
Previously, not only arrogant dismissal of Stone Village’s threat they had exuded, even intending freely taking the coveted Treasure-Scaled Dragon Bone themselves while deciding freely on fates of three infantile avians.
Now—each and all among them only felt icy fear creeping deep along the spine like sub-zero breath.
In stunned awe remained even the robust village folk gathered along, Shifei Jiao and the other stalwart men; the cluster of innocent youths; their female companions and elders rushing over as summoned, all with mouths hung open but rendered wordless.
Unbearably staggering—merely through one single willow branch that severed Heaven from Earth, effortlessly wiping out a horde of the powerful! The tree never communicated with these village denizens even a single word throughout many decades of their collective lifetimes. Indeed, no anomaly had ever been observed previously—hence this shocking turn of fate brought with it a surreal disbelief none could reconcile.
Maybe only two or three people, like secluded village head and perhaps but the rare few who remained, would display no such alarm—in their presence having witnessed decades past an even greater horror on one thunder-bolting, lightning-lashed evening during a torrential, all-day downpour.
“Aaaagh!”
Finally managing a climb out of bloody heaps, sobbing uncontrollably Jiao Peng flung himself into Jiao Cang’s arms, hugging tightly with weeping screams, too frightened still after such an encounter to remain sane.
At that point all silence and horror snapped. From this reverie came hesitant emergence back to consciousness. All around bore expressions not of admiration—but terror-driven reverence and dread. Not one had dared directly gaze toward the willow any longer.
Though fear gnawed at both heart and mind, resentment still filled Jiao Cang—the leader who stood unchallenged before the humble hamlet moments ago now reduced to the pitiful image of himself. Summoning the remnants of his pride despite this, he opened a trembling voice:
“Great Guardian Spirit…forgive our transgression and ignorance please…”
Before another syllable of apology could leave his lips the cool breeze wafted forward. The willow branch trembled, trailing mists as softly as an elegant weeping waterfall. And “thud,” it pierced straight through his outstretched forearm.
“Aaahhh!”
His scream erupted as all strength failed him. No effort he made succeeded. Rapidly draining essence gushed externally from the wound as his arm shiv ered into withered bark. Finally “snap,” his limb—dry like withered branch under autumn gales—broke away in brittle fall from the elbow downwards. Jao Peng received a direct hit with no time or means to defend; the withery bone splintered into him mid-catch as he cradled Jiao Cang below it—the gruesome sight drove him past shock, losing himself entirely. He collapsed, fainting from pure fear.
Jialo Cang gave a faint, twisted grin. Not only one arm destroyed completely, but a serious crippling of core abilities as a high expert followed. Unsteady he swayed as though a dying ember about to expire, bitterness gnawed from within. One mere moment ago he stood with divine prerogative over the lives of rustic villagers, death and life alike held by mere inclination. Now—in so brief a breath span he faced ruption irretrievable; stripped entirely of purpose, a hollow being.
Of the other youth representing elder families from Luo-Fu mire two older prodigal talents moved forward hastily and steadied the weakened Jiao Cang.
Their limbs trembled as minds reeled, eyes held irrevocably haunted from the sheer horror of what had unfolded moments beforehand; such sights etched permanent nightmares into minds not soon fading.
Each expert present trembled in bone-deep terror. This Guardian’s might? Beyond comprehension, beyond description.
Both, Gold Wolf Tribe along with Leizu and Shizhan lineage—now found only dread blooming within. Previously they chit-chatted among themselves, deciding upon how to deal with Stone hamlet, contemplating seizing the dragon bone treasure for personal glory—all this was mere minutes ago.
Now these scenes rendered such ideas ludicrously terrifying. Each man cursed their rash foolishness, inwardly screaming to have been given powerful sacred treasures instead. Even for that they’d have refrained from uttering even a whisper against Stone Village.
“You lot were eager for fighting. Take the treasures now, what’s stopping you?” a cluster of village brats, full of resentment, finally found voice once they stabilized after shock wore off.
“You from Golden Wolf, from Luo Fu’s Marsh. Leizu Clan or even Zi Shan’s mighty, all of you were so high above it all weren’t you? Then why all so pale? Lost faces to this death?”
Blunt came Er Meng, straightforward as always, “Don’t recall hearing any of us kids threatening Stone Village?”
Nasal Runt chimed in next with a tightened angry little fist, calling into sharp account older memories they tried so hard to forget.
Upon hearing, the gathered experts felt as if ice had touched spine with a dagger point; each shot glances toward that sinister looking tree fearful of another attack of sheer, merciless carnage.
“Hey, those were nothing but light words, just joking about all that blood-strewn business—never real threats, surely,” their sweat-dripping faces strained, their noble identities forgotten as masters who were held aloft on pillars of high prestige, now bowing, apologizing.
The usual demeanor of arrogant dismissal of peasant’s worth, treating mountain clans and villagers like pawns were long-gone concerns of the past.
Today, the alternative would mean death or worse.
“Brother,” spoke the Head of Golden Wolves as he eyed up Shi Lin Hu and the men.
“Perhaps this…was all but misunderstanding? And perhaps another chapter of cooperation in future shall right wrongs?”
Before he concluded even two syllables, an emerald streak pierced the air. From below Silkwil stirred: a slender tendril fell swift like a thunderclap. Before anyone could flinch the golden wolf man’s entire right half withered and withstood no longer. Blood flow dried mid-scream; entire right arm cracked dry, fell with brittle collapse identical to earlier wounds Jiao Cang had received. One moment a towering tribal leader—now felled into a withered half-wretch, mirrored the prior maiming he suffered so terribly.
The branch did not stop then, moving with deadly will, acting swift as a celestial spear through night, spearing and impaling seven or eight others among them—each and all had voiced threats upon village, some once plotting total village massacre—all now drained of vital essences in the willow’s judgment passed.
“You may all leave now.” spoke Shi-Lin-Hu’s deep rumble.
Quaking violently, the experts understood: battling that tree in full might equated to suicidal absurdity. Only option remaining to these was to immediately report matters straight up their clans’ chains—bringing leaders direct if survival remained paramount. Continuing their current stance here only equated to mass-slaughter with guaranteed fatality to all. They fled swiftly back into jungles of origin: the chief of golden wolves, a pale Jio Cang bearing bitter laughter and loss, silent figures as Zi Shan’s senior uncle, a Leizu servant elder—retreating with silent despair.
Yet among the retreating stood Cloud-Heaven sects’ people who remained unscarred. Their group held one venerable aged leader alongside two pretty girls who looked with curious excitement and blinked eagerly towards the village below.
With the faint closing of his eye as his hand silently stayed two eager children, the old patriarch offered no explanation but maintained an unemotional silence amid it all.
Now dusk passed into darkness as nightfall descended.
From beyond distance, Silkwil’s glow shimmering, forming an ambient haze around the sleepy hamlet.
“One mere village in so many millions we command…dare you mistreat our envoys so openly without repercussions? Surely retribution from above awaits!” One voice rumbled angrily, more than a mile now from that quiet village, their pride and fury barely contained.
“We shall absolutely report straight to family head,” declared one angry figure among them.”Command our respective leaders to arrive forthright—not just about those dragon bones or powerful treasure guardian—but for this disgrace itself.”
But before those final curses left lips, even from far distance came the sensing of the spirit, as it perceived hostility through a subtle resonance of intent. With eerie grace from leagues afar, an intensely green willow limb burst glowing through space toward offending figures!
“Crackle. Splatter.”
Each man voicing vengeance met a cruel sever in two. It cleaved as might the sharpest demonic scimitar, leaving the torsos separated above and below with spurting life fluids geysering in chaotic dissonance.
From each representative of leading families the Silkwil showed mercy to few. The servant of Golden Wolf’s elders, Zi Shan’s senior family member’s uncle alike met grievous loss—a wrist sliced clean away for warning.
The group’s remaining minds now void of arrogance—tongues sealed utterly with silent resolve as they fled desperately that entire night, each wielding their precious talismans in glowing radiance, rushing as closely to the land beneath, fleeing straight deeper into unknown shadows of the wilds with sheer panic.
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage