Half a day had passed since Yao Shen had made his return known at All-Haven. While the hubbub that followed his shocking announcement should have calmed down by now, given the fact that the ones in attendance were Elders that had lived for more than a century. Instead, it had only intensified and in truth, it was his own directions that were to blame for the commotion.
Sprawled across the length and breadth of All-Haven were thousands of disciples and hundreds of guardians that had responded to Yao Shen’s summons. The initial wave of panic had been subsumed by a growing curiosity as rumors laden with varying degrees of hyperbole were exchanged.
Only a fraction of the present crowd had been present during the demon’s initial onslaught and in the end, there had been no casualties due to Yao Shen’s intervention. While he did not expect all who had witnessed the terrible might of the demon to be willing to return to All-Haven, Yao Shen wasn’t surprised to find that many had once he had guaranteed their safety.
While it was true that being in the presence of a Soul Emperor was the greatest shield the Azlak Plains had to offer, it still required a respectable degree of resolve to return to the site of the incursion. Had the cultivators of the Azlak Plains not been accustomed to the very real possibility of death on the road to ascension, if their hearts were not steeled with the resolve to brave the heaven’s fury in pursuit of their own desires— then they would not have the courage to return.
Yao Shen would not be surprised if the Demon had inadvertently succeeded in his goal of forming a heart demon among those that could not bring themselves to return, but there would be a place for non-combatant cultivators in the Modern Sect; even if they themselves believed all to be lost.
It was an impressive sight, to see every inch of the residential district flush with cultivators. While the parks and heated pools that had been planned had yet to be constructed, it allowed the empty space in the center of the apartment units to house over half the cultivators that had answered Yao Shen’s call, while the remaining had chosen the apartment unit’s balconies to get a better view of the proceedings.
One day in the not so distant future, he hoped that it would be mortals populating those buildings instead of cultivators.
Zhou Hui stepped forward from his right, his steps echoing against the recently constructed stone dias that would serve as the site he would deliver his address from. Stopping just before a simple wooden lectern that Yao Shen had instructed one of the Sky Division’s disciples to construct, he began,
“Silence,” Zhou Hui commanded, his voice spreading far and wide with the assistance of his Wind QI.
The crowd stilled in abeyance as excited exchanges and conspiratorial whispers died in their mouths. Backs were held straight, gazes directed forward towards the speaker, Venerable Nascent Soul Zhou Hui.
“Grand Patriarch Yao Shen will now begin his address,” he announced solemnly, before stepping back and returning to his place amongst the three Patriarchs.
It was now Yao Shen’s turn.
The build-up of tension in the crowd was palpable as Yao Shen took center stage, for the moment had finally arrived.
‘Who was the Demonic Cultivator that had invaded the Azlak Plains?’
‘Was he truly a Soul Emperor?’
‘How had the disaster been averted?’
‘Why had they been summoned to All-Haven?’
Those were only a few of the questions Yao Shen had overheard earlier and he intended to answer every single one.
“Today,” he began, amplifying his voice with his now recovered Qi reserves. “Marks a very important day for the Azlak Plains,” Yao Shen proclaimed, his words echoing across All-Haven with aplomb.
“It is a day that will be recorded in the annals of our history, an event that will be heralded by the scholars of the distant future as the beginning of a reversal— in our strength, in our fortunes and most important of all, a much needed reversal in our mindsets,” Yao Shen proclaimed, his words carrying with them a silent strength that did not require any ostentatious displays or impassioned rhetoric to convey his message. Not any more.
“A Soul Emperor of the Demonic Path, Gavril Ar’Kael of the Ancient Codex, thought us weak. Thought us divided. Believed us to be incapable of defending the lands entrusted to us by our ancestors,”
Yao Shen revealed to even the weakest of cultivators amongst them a matter that would normally be suppressed by the upper echelon.
Involuntary gasps had escaped many before they had even realized. Vindicated whispers and fearful gazes that were directed towards the raised dias followed, as if the latter were hoping for him to rescind his statement.
“So brazenly confident was he in his supposition, that he charged into the Azlak Plains on his lonesome to challenge me. That is our reputation in the eyes of both the righteous and the demonic path. Or atleast, was, until this Gavril Ar’Kael challenged I, Yao Shen of the Modern Sect.”
Yao Shen only allowed his audience a moment to consider the implications of his words, before he continued onwards while he had the complete attention of the cultivators in attendance, “This Demon had cultivated for far longer than I. He had delved into the taboo paths of Blood and Soul and to him, both your lives and mine hold little value except to serve as a whetstone to sharpen his own strength. By all means, I should not have won. I could not have won, in the same manner that an Early Stage Nascent Soul Elder cannot defeat one of the three Patriarchs of our divisions.”
“And yet!” Yao Shen bellowed, his voice carrying a sharpness that made the hair of every cultivator in attendance stand on end.
While his captive audience waited for him to finish his declaration, Yao Shen had been waiting for this very moment to command the Bell Artifact that had been slumbering in his Soul Lake.
The Elders and even the three Patriarchs retreated in surprise as over a dozen ghastly silhouettes seemingly materialized out of thin air, each one exuding the pressure of a powerful Nascent Soul. But that was only the beginning, as more than fifty ghastly orbs followed, each one exuding a strength that was at least at the Early Stage Core Formation level.
It could be said that the forces arrayed before Yao Shen, even when reduced to their souls, were enough to match the strength of a subordinate sect in the Azlak Plains.
“It is I who stand before you, unscathed. Look carefully, disciples, guardians and elders of the Modern Sect. This is the way of the Demonic Path. Forcing the souls of the defeated into service through unspeakable means and even going as far as to graft it onto one’s own soul. These are the consequences of being blinded by your own desire for strength,” Yao Shen outstretched his arms, his expression sorrowful as he shook his head.
The Elders behind him gaped in awe as the freed Nascent Souls expressed their gratitude to Yao Shen with a deep bow. Even those Nascent Souls that had large chunks of soul gouged out of their silhouettes, even those from other races, namely Dwarves and Elves, even those that had but a final tether of sanity remaining, had bowed.
“We are of the righteous path. Our enemies may stoop to the lowest of lows, yet we still prevail. We are of the Modern Sect. Our enemies may be more powerful than us, but we do not cower in the face of overwhelming odds. And perhaps most important of all, we are cultivators of the Azlak Plains and any cultivator that seeks to usurp this land from us shall pay the price!” Yao Shen roared in triumph.
“The Demons shall pay the price!” A boisterous voice that suspiciously sounded like Duyi’s boldly screamed after him.
His enthusiasm started a chain reaction, as one disciple after the other took up the call. After all, how could they not!
A Demonic Soul Emperor had invaded the Azlak Plains and for the first time in centuries, they had the strength to fight back. One of their own had managed to rebuff the assault on his lonesome, a feat that would be celebrated in both song and script.
“The Demons shall pay the price!” The disjointed call was shouted out as thousands of voices overlapped, full of patriotic zeal that was masking the residual fear they felt at the thought of dying to the demon or even worse, being added to his collection of souls.
The chant however died down not long after as the crowd’s collective gaze was captivated by a sight that left them spellbound.
One Nascent Soul after the next took to the skies, shortly followed by the fifty or so ghastly orbs that took to the skies in unison.
Their gazes trailed after the souls that got faster and faster with every passing second and just when the cultivators expected them to wink out of their sight, they offered the viewing cultivators a final tribute.
Each soul grew bright and for a moment, just a moment, the sky had gained over sixty luminescent stars that warmly shone their light upon the man that had offered them salvation from a fate too cruel to describe in mere words alone.
Then, their brilliance faded and stillness returned to the skies.