Yao Shen’s expression was uncharacteristically grim as he cut connection to the communication mirror. His fist clenched into a ball, his eyes shimmering with cold fury as he considered what his oldest disciple, Shadow, had told him.
‘They tried to assassinate Yanyue,’ Yao Shen thought, his Qi fluctuating in response to his emotional instability. He had known that it was a real possibility, and had been warned of the same by Wujing Yang in the information docket he had sent over along with the cultivation manual he had asked for.
‘They tried to assassinate Yanyue,’ The thought echoed in his mind. He had known of the possibility and prepared for it. In fact, it could be said that he had left his disciples behind as bait, to draw the spies out that were no doubt concealed within the Heavenly Sky Sect.
Even then though, Yao Shen had not expected the vicious demons to strike with the strength of a mid-stage Nascent Soul Cultivator for a mere Foundation Establishment Disciple!
“How ruthless,” Yao Shen snarled under his breath, his expression twisted into an enraged scowl.
If it had been merely two years ago, the Demonic Path Spy would likely have succeeded in assassinating any of his disciples besides Shadow. As uniquely talented as the rest were, it required a prodigy beyond imagination for a Mortal tier to battle and win against a Soul tier cultivator.
Of course, he would not have committed to this gambit of his if the safety of his disciples were not ensured. The Rune of Focus he had traded Vondar for was only applied to the Hybrid Lumenite Armor he had crafted for his disciples, his own divine sense brand responsible for assessing any threats to their person and reacting to it.
That was the reason why Yanyue had been able to survive unscathed in her encounter against a demon that had traded his vitality for the strength of a Nascent Soul.
It was a powerful, tempting rune, but there had been no hesitation in Yao Shen’s mind when he did not imbue it onto the Full Lumenite Armor. The more important reason lay in the necessity of concealing possession of the armor, if they did not wish a dwarven holy war at their doorsteps. The secondary reason was more rooted in ideology over practicality, for Yao Shen did not wish for the precious armor to become a weapon.
Powerful though the armor maybe, there were a hundred ways to counter it. One did not need to necessarily kill to neutralize a threat. Yao Shen wished to strengthen the Azlak Plains and he could not accomplish such an ambitious goal by offering crutches to the Modern Sect.
The Full Lumenite Armor would give the Elders the freedom to go where they desire, to cultivate even in the most dangerous of environments unscathed. Few in this generation and perhaps many more in the next would be able to use such a precious opportunity to ascend, though Yao Shen still knew such a feat to be at least decades ahead.
“Illivara Feralheart,” Yao Shen muttered the twisted mockery of elven naming traditions aloud, the one who he suspected to be behind the assassination attempt. “A spymaster that uses twisted flesh puppets to do her bidding, toeing the line of the pact but never crossing it. Not in a way that can be proved,” He analyzed, his expression only darkening as he mused upon the true nature of the threat he was facing.
“A pity she is dark elf and not human,” Yao Shen continued, his physical body even know buried deep within the earth as he patiently waited for the singular moment where his intervention would be the most valuable.
The die had been cast. A disciple of his had almost been assassinated and yet Yao Shen, Patriarch of the Modern Sect, was nowhere to be found. As for how the assassin had died—- well, there were plenty of ways to kill a Nascent Soul. He had already revealed an Ancient Relic to be in his possession, one capable of grievously wounding Gavril Ar’kael, a Soul Emperor of the feared Ancient Codex.
What was an artifact that could slay a Nascent Soul, in comparison?
“Come on then, demons,” Yao Shen softly whispered under his breath as he clamped down on the Qi fluctuations in his dantian before closing his eyes.
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The message had been relayed to Zhou Hui and he would be warned moments within the incursion being reported.
Now, all that was left to do was wait.
Righteousness proliferates in the light, Demons stalk the night. It was a common enough proverb in the Azlak Plains, many iterations and versions of it passing down the wisdom from one generation to the next.
However, few cultivators in the present era considered it more than superstitious tripe. They were not mortals, to be scared away by an absence of the sun, their senses more than enough to see through any obfuscation. The Demons, after all, were little more than rabid beasts in the shape of sapient creatures, a wild pack of bloodthirsty creatures that could attack at any time, any place without warning.
Even fewer stopped to consider the logical fallacy contained in that inherited assumption, the pact dulling the fear and terror of the previous generations.
If the Demons were indeed so poorly organized and ill-managed, then why had the righteous path not hunted them down to the last heretic. Perhaps one could argue that there were many powerful cultivators guarding the demons, but it was not as if the righteous path applied the same standard of morality as they did to their fellow cultivators and the mortals under their protection to those that had cast aside all semblance of their humanity.
Infiltration, betrayal and various forms of treachery seemed to be equally effective methods of destroying a people or an organization across all sapient beings in Ionea. And the righteous path certainly did not hesitate to use all three means in their arsenal, carrying out plans across decades and even centuries.
Even then, the demonic path had not fallen. If anything, it was thriving despite the restrictions imposed by the pact.
One could resort to any number of rationalizations to explain away this paradox, as long as they stopped to consider the one explanation that neatly fit into the puzzle— perhaps, the demons were not as disorganized and poorly managed as the righteous path thought.
The thirty six Nascent Soul cultivators stepping out of Demon Gate— Azlak, a wide, cavernous chamber concealed deep beneath the Nayun Forest, certainly did not consider what they had to go through to be eligible for this mission to be disorganized.
Their hearts were marked by a Blood Qi technique that would cause it to implode within fractions of a second if they were to reveal, either via spoken word, hint or divine sense, the location of the Demon Gate. It did not matter if even a Soul Paragon or the fabled third step cultivators were to try and torture and interrogate the Elders, the location would not leak.
Many, many, too many righteous path cultivators over the years had tried to break this monopoly over information and they had all, every single one of them post the era of turmoil, had failed. No matter how profound one’s technique may be, it mattered little if the subject of their interrogation would die long before they were successful.
The Righteous Path was fundamentally incapable of understanding such ruthlessness.
That was precisely why the leader of their expedition was Flesh Puppet Yifang Huang of the Celestial Four-Element Sect, one of five hegemons of the Eastern Righteous Path alliance alongside the Tower of Radiance among others— a former Mid-Stage Soul Emperor who had been assassinated under the orders of none other than Illivarra Feralheart.
“Depart in thirty minute delays,” A gravelly voice ordered, alluding to the pre-arranged groups.
There were no nods of confirmation, not a single word of gossip exchanged. The Elders merely organized themselves in three groups of twelve each and awaited the next command, even though they were aware of the specifications of their roles well in advance.
None present wished to catch the ire, or even worse, the eye of Illivarra Feralheart.
“Darkness shall assail the Sacred Flame. Shadow and Flame shall obfuscate and incinerate the Divine Mountain. Blood shall taint the Wind. Leave in the order I have called out,” The unpleasant words grated against the ears of all pleasant, yet none dared even let out the slightest word in response.
Fear took on a different dimension in the realm of cultivators and Illvarra was one of the prime examples. Even demons did not wish for their soul to be invaded and their flesh crafted to serve another’s bidding.
An hour later, only the Flesh Puppet Yifang Huang remained in the chamber that was suspected to be the underground lair of a long-extinct spiritual beast species.
“Now…,” She began, her rotting-flesh features twisting into a cruel smile. “Let us see if this Human Dao cultivator’s preparations can surmount the Ar’kael Family’s trained bloodhounds.”
Two artifacts were retrieved from her spatial ring and placed before her. A thirty-six beaded necklace and an Azure Gemstone that rested inert.