At the cave's mouth stood a towering figure, a monolith of flesh and fury forged from the earth's very bones. Old Man Tie loomed, his presence menacing, his tattered gray robes—stained with the dust of countless battles—snapping in the howling wind.
His gnarled hand gripped a scarred longsword, its notched blade glinting faintly under the dim, oppressive light. His aura, unshakable as a mountain defying a tempest, radiated power, his hawk-sharp gaze fixed on the cave's shadowed depths, a sneer curling his weathered lips.
Whispers of his legend echoed across the continent: Old Man Tie, the rogue cultivator who had clawed his way to the Divine Platform Realm through decades of solitary bloodshed. No sect claimed him, no clan bound him.
His name was a curse in the Eastern Wilderness, a specter born from forgotten techniques he'd unearthed in a crumbling realm during his reckless youth. Once a wanderer seeking only power, he was now a grandfather consumed by vengeance.
"I've waited days for this, Ye Qiu!" His voice erupted like a landslide, a gravelly roar shattering the stillness and echoing off the cliffs. "Tell me—should I sever your head before or after I grind every bone in your miserable body to dust?"
His bloodthirsty grin widened, yellowed teeth flashing, eyes gleaming with feral delight, twin coals burning in the furnace of his rage. His overwhelming aura pulsed through the earth, a rhythm of ruin that made pebbles tremble at his feet.
This was no petty elder lurking in a sect's shadows. This was Old Man Tie, whose grandson, Tie Feng, had perished days ago in a calamity that razed valleys and splintered mountains—a tragedy he blamed on Ye Qiu, the man he'd hunted across this forsaken wilderness.
"Feng'er," he muttered, his voice softening to a rough whisper, thick with grief and resolve. "Be patient, my boy. Grandfather will send this dog to the depths of hell to atone for your death."
His expression hardened, grief forging into cold, unyielding fury that etched deeper lines into his craggy face. With a single, decisive motion, he raised his longsword, its tip aimed at the cave like a judge's gavel.
The air screamed as he thrust it forward, a deafening boom splitting the silence. The cave's entrance erupted in a cascade of rubble and dust, the earth quaking under his wrath. Shards of stone rained down, sharp as broken promises, and the wind howled louder, as if mourning what was to come.
"Cough… cough…" From the swirling haze stumbled a disheveled figure, steps faltering, breath a ragged gasp cutting through the chaos.
Ye Qiu emerged, blood trickling from his mouth, staining his torn robes a deeper crimson. His dark hair hung matted over a deathly pale face, his once-defiant eyes now clouded with exhaustion. Locking gazes with Old Man Tie, fear clawed at his insides, a ravenous beast sinking teeth into his resolve.
'He knows I'm spent,' Ye Qiu thought, the realization bitter as bile. 'No strength, no stamina—every breath is a gamble now. One misstep, and I'm done.'
Ye Qiu tried to run, but his legs, drained of strength, managed only a feeble walk. Old Man Tie's sneer deepened, eyes narrowing to slits as he savored his prey's weakness.
"You little beast," he growled, his voice low and venomous, dripping with contempt, "where do you think you're scurrying off to? Face your death like a man, at least!"
He raised his blade, the air around it crackling with latent power, a storm brewing in the steel. With a roar, he swung downward. Thunder erupted from the sword, a torrent of destructive energy surging like a tidal wave, intent on reducing Ye Qiu to ash.
Hatred burned in the old man's chest, a wildfire consuming all restraint. Once, he'd dreamed of capturing Ye Qiu alive—binding him in chains of despair, flaying his spirit with slow torment until he begged for oblivion.
But now, facing the man he blamed for Tie Feng's death, reason vanished. All he craved was annihilation—a single blow to erase Ye Qiu from existence. The ground beneath his feet cracked, mirroring the fracture in his soul.
Ye Qiu clenched his teeth, desperation igniting a frail spark of defiance in his hollow chest. "Mystic Flame Ascension: Cauldron of the Mountain Blaze!" he roared, his voice hoarse but resolute, a dying ember flaring one last time.
Above him, a blazing cauldron materialized, born from writhing crimson flames. It hung in the air, humming with raw power, its surface etched with faint ancient runes pulsing like a heartbeat. The heat warped the space around it, bending light into shimmering mirages, its fiery maw yawning wide.
Old Man Tie's thunderbolts and sword strike were pulled into its depths, devoured in a burst of searing light that painted the ravaged landscape in hues of blue and gold.
Sparks erupted, illuminating the fractured earth, but the effort exacted a brutal toll. Ye Qiu's face paled, color leaching away, and his knees buckled. He coughed, spitting blood onto the ground, his aura wavering, faint and fragile.
Old Man Tie's eyes widened, his sneer faltering briefly. He hadn't expected Ye Qiu—battered, broken, teetering on collapse—to withstand that strike. But as he studied his foe's trembling form—the shallow breaths, the shaking hands—a cruel certainty settled over him.
The end was inevitable. A cold, guttural laugh rumbled from his throat as he summoned thunder once more.
His palm crackled with energy, arcs of lightning dancing between his fingers like eager serpents. "Such weakness," he spat, his voice sharp with disdain. "You think your feeble gimmicks can save you? I'll grind your soul to dust and scatter it to the winds!"
A deafening roar split the air as a jagged bolt of lightning, thick with ruinous intent, hurtled toward Ye Qiu, tearing furrows in the earth. Despair gripped Ye Qiu's heart, squeezing until his ribs ached. His reserves were ash, his body a hollow shell barely clinging to life.
'Is this it?' he thought, his mind a whirlwind of panic and defiance. 'Am I to die here, beneath this old monster's heel? No—I refuse! My revenge remains unfulfilled. I won't let it end like this!'
The lightning bore down, a heartbeat from striking, its blinding glare searing his vision. Hopelessness flooded his eyes as he squeezed them shut, bracing for oblivion. Then, a hand emerged from the ether—long, pale fingers seizing the lightning mid-flight. With a gentle clench, the bolt dissolved into harmless sparks, scattering like fireflies into the wind.
An unseen figure stepped forward, launching a palm strike toward Old Man Tie with a casual flick of their wrist.
The motion was effortless, almost bored, yet the old man reacted as if facing a mortal foe. Their palms collided with a thunderous bang that shook the heavens, the air fracturing behind Old Man Tie in a web of splintering light.
He groaned, his towering frame staggering back as the ground buckled beneath him. The wind erupted into a tempest, whipping dust and debris into a blinding storm. The surrounding peaks crumbled, their jagged crowns reduced to powder under the clash's sheer force.
Ye Qiu shielded his face, peering through the maelstrom as a figure emerged. A man in flowing white robes materialized, his presence a divine weight pressing against the world. His black hair fluttered gently, framing a serene, unreadable face, like a lake hiding fathomless depths.
The air seemed to bow before him, heavy with the quiet menace of his power—an aura dwarfing even Old Man Tie's might. He stood as if descended from celestial peaks, a god gracing the mortal realm with indifference.
Old Man Tie's face twisted in alarm, his bravado crumbling. This newcomer's strength was a mountain atop a pebble, an oppressive force crushing his spirit. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice icy but threaded with a tremor. "Why do you meddle in my vengeance?"
The man in white tilted his head, his gaze distant, as if peering through the old man to some unseen horizon. "Leave," he murmured, the word soft yet carrying a decree's weight.
Fury flared in Old Man Tie's chest, his pride surging like an unchained beast. He, too, was a master of the Divine Platform Realm—a titan who had walked the Eastern Wilderness for over a century. Why should he cower before this intruder? How could he turn away when Ye Qiu's blood was within reach, the culmination of his grief and rage so close?
"Leave?" he snarled, his voice rising to a furious crescendo. "You dare command me? I'll bury you alongside this whelp!"
His aura surged, dark and roiling, a storm of shadow and malice. "Black Dragon Bell of Ten Thousand Arts!" he bellowed, his body trembling with the technique's strain. His form twisted, expanding into an enormous black bell forged of shadow and spite.
It tolled with a resonant clang, unleashing a chorus of dragon roars echoing through the ravine. Soundwaves rippled outward, pulverizing nearby peaks into dust. The bell shifted, its edges melting into a colossal black dragon, obsidian scales glinting with malevolent light. With a deafening roar, it lunged at the man in white, jaws gaping to swallow him whole.
"Ignorant fool," the man in white said softly, his voice a whisper against the cacophony. He raised his right hand, and the air blazed with power.
Seven streams of sword energy erupted, piercing the heavens like pillars of divine wrath. They surged forward, their brilliance blinding, shredding the black dragon into fragments of dissipating shadow. The man moved, a blur of white against the darkness.
In an instant, he closed the distance and struck—a single palm crashing down with a collapsing star's weight.
Old Man Tie's head exploded in a spray of blood and bone, his body crumpling like a marionette with severed strings. The earth fissured, cracks spreading outward. A Divine Platform Realm expert—a solitary legend who had carved his name into the Eastern Wilderness through a century of blood—gone, felled by a single blow. The audacity defied reason.
The man in white stood over the lifeless form, his expression calm as a still pond, as though he'd swatted a gnat. His pristine robes remained untouched by the carnage. Turning to Ye Qiu, a faint smile tugged at his lips. "Are you alright?" he asked, his tone gentle, almost warm, a stark contrast to the ruin at his feet.
Ye Qiu stared, heart hammering. He didn't recognize this man, yet his presence radiated danger—an ancient, primal threat cloaked in that disarming smile. 'He's a beast from the dawn of time,' Ye Qiu thought, a shiver racing down his spine. 'Terrifying. Utterly terrifying.'
His body screamed with pain, reserves depleted, but suspicion and curiosity clawed through the exhaustion. Frowning, he forced words past cracked lips. "Who are you?"
The man chuckled softly, a rich, harmonious sound out of place amidst the shattered ruins. Hands clasped behind his back, he stood with an air of ease carrying undeniable authority. "Jiang Zhongbai," he introduced himself smoothly, "True Disciple of the Xuantian Sect."
Ye Qiu's breath caught. The Xuantian Sect—its name conjured memories of Qin Ting, the relentless shadow of his past who ruled there with an iron grip. 'Why would one of their elite step in for me?' Ye Qiu's gaze darted to Jiang Zhongbai's unreadable eyes, probing for motive, but they held only serene stillness.
"Why save me?" Ye Qiu demanded, his voice rough with suspicion and defiance. "What do you want from me?"
Jiang Zhongbai shook his head, a faint smile playing on his lips, as though the question amused him. "Want?" he echoed, his tone playful yet edged with something unreadable. "Perhaps I dislike seeing talent extinguished before its time. Or perhaps…"
He paused, his gaze drifting to the horizon, where storm clouds gathered like a brewing omen. "Perhaps there's a grander design unfolding, and you, Ye Qiu, are a thread I'd rather not see snipped just yet."
Ye Qiu's fists clenched, nails biting into his palms. 'Grander design?' he thought bitterly. 'I'm no one's pawn.' Yet he swallowed the retort, sensing the chasm of power between them—a gulf he couldn't cross in his broken state. Survival trumped pride, for now.
"Come," Jiang Zhongbai said, turning with a graceful sweep of his robes. "You're in no shape to linger here. The vultures will descend on Old Man Tie's corpse soon—best we avoid their squabble."
Ye Qiu hesitated, casting a final glance at the old man's broken form. The wind carried the scent of blood and scorched earth, a requiem for the fallen titan. Reluctantly, he nodded and followed the white-robed figure into the fading light, the weight of unanswered questions heavy on his shoulders.