Outside Earthfire Pavilion, black clouds sagged so low they seemed to crush the peaks—a city-wide weight of storm and smoke. Thousands of Malevolent Path Hall cultivators swarmed like locusts, hemming Earthfire Pavilion in an unbroken ring. Each invader wore an ink-black robe and a snarling demon mask; the weapons in their fists leaked a stench of fresh slaughter.
The entire sky had curdled into dark crimson under their nether aura, choking even the sunlight that dared approach. Under the unceasing onslaught, the defense formation’s protective light shuddered violently, flickering like a candle struggling against the wind. Sparks danced where the shield mended itself, yet the wounds only widened with each heartbeat.
“Hit it again! We’re about to break the formation!” a masked steward shouted as he sent his scarlet sword crashing against the barrier.
Boom! At the impact point, the shimmering dome sagged inward, a fist-sized hole yawning open at its heart. The rent sealed itself a breath later, yet the defenders’ spirits plummeted; hope was drowning in molten stone. Everyone knew that the defense formation could not last much longer.
High above the gate, three black-robed elders hovered in stately silence, each one a mountain of power no mortal could climb. They were none other than the three deputy leaders of Malevolent Path Hall: Soulbane, Bonefiend, and Annihilum.
Soulbane’s face looked mummified, his crimson pupils sunk deep as dying coals. Sticky red mist coiled around him, and inside that fog floated countless human faces mouthing silent screams.
Bonefiend appeared next, little more than a skeleton wrapped in slack human hide. His fingers were long and corpse-white, and a single lazy swipe could shear open the fabric of space itself.
Annihilum was the strangest of the three—no body at all, only a shifting storm of gray vapor. Eyes winked in and out of that cloud, each one glimmering with a cold that made souls shiver.
Their combined auras locked together, weaving an unseen prison that swallowed the entire Earthfire Pavilion. It was the crushing might of Top Level Heavenly Immortal Realm Level Nine cultivators.
Soulbane’s rasp scraped across the pavilion. “Ignatius Flameheart, this is your last chance. Hand over Gerald Earthfire’s soul remnant and Jared Chance! Do that, and Earthfire Pavilion will be spared. Refuse, and we leave nothing alive—not man, beast, or bird!”
Inside the defense formation, Ignatius stood at the fore. His crimson-gold robe was soaked dark with blood—some his own, and others from the enemies he had slain. Behind him, a dozen elders, every one wounded and gray, braced themselves against pain and despair.
Farther back on the plaza, fewer than one hundred disciples still clutched weapons; nearly all were bleeding, yet none stepped away. After three days of siege, Earthfire Pavilion had paid a heavy price. Out of nearly a thousand disciples, fewer than a tenth survived.
“Dream on!” Ignatius roared, eyes bloodshot yet unbowed. “For three millennia, Earthfire Pavilion has never birthed a traitor. Even if we must fight to the very last person, we will never yield to your malevolent forces!”
Bonefiend shook his skull-thin head, voice regretful but eyes knife-cold. “What a stubborn fool. Since you insist on death, I shall oblige.” He lifted one pale hand and slowly clenched toward the glowing defense formation. “Bone Hell! Myriad Manifestations!”
The earth convulsed. Tower-thick bone spikes burst from the dirt, writhing like living things to ram and drill against the shield.
“Hold the line! Do not let it fall!” an elder screamed. Blood essence burned off him in ribbons, feeding fresh power into the trembling array. One by one, the elders bit through their tongues and flung blood essence into the heavens. For an instant, the barrier steadied, but they were only pouring poison into an open wound; they were buying minutes with their very lives.
Annihilum’s voice slithered into their minds. “This is all pointless. You are cornered beasts. End this farce, and I will grant you a swift death.”
Gray threads seeped through the fractures in the array. The cries tore from several disciples as the threads coiled around them, shriveling flesh against bone. Their souls were yanked screaming from their husks and swallowed into Annihilum’s chest.
“You b*stard!” Ignatius roared, scalding the threads with a tidal bloom of fire. But fresh strands flooded through every new crack.
Crack! A jagged fissure zig-zagged from the crown of the barrier to its base. The defense formation, pride of Earthfire Pavilion, shattered like iced glass.
“Kill!” Soulbane ordered. “Leave no one alive!”
Thousands of Malefic Path cultivators surged through the broken gate. Ignatius inhaled, fire wreathing every inch of his armor. “Earthfire Pavilion disciples! Stand and fight to the death!”
“Fight to the death!” the remaining disciples echoed. In that breathless instant, something vast and ancient awakened. From the depths came a roar—raw, primal, and endless. A dragon’s cry, bright as molten brass, thundered out of the inner sanctum. It was a monarch announcing judgment.
