The fireball, a searing comet of malice shot by Qi Zhui, crossed the short distance in a heartbeat. It was only the sudden shift in light and the roar of heat that made Qi Mo spin around. His eyes widened in pure horror, but it was too late. The spell smashed into the Beast Flame Sect disciple with devastating force, bypassing his feeble spiritual defenses as if they were paper.
BOOM!
The man was engulfed, transformed into a shrieking, flailing torch. An agonized scream tore through the air, so raw it seemed to shred the very silence. The disciple's uncontrolled aura erupted, the distinct, wild signature of beast blood flaring like a foul beacon.
"Beast Flame Sect…" Qi Zhui's voice was a low, disbelieving whisper. The guards behind him stood frozen, their minds refusing to process the betrayal unfolding before them. Then, Qi Zhui's face hardened, the shock melting into a mask of cold, murderous fury. He turned his gaze to Qi Mo. "I prayed my suspicions were wrong. But it seems my instincts were correct. You are a traitor to your own blood."
Qi Zhui shook his head, a gesture of profound disappointment. "A clever plan, I'll give you that. Infiltrate the strongest gate, open it from within. You even chose the perfect disguises. A commendable effort." His hand drifted to his waist, fingers closing around the smooth jade of his sound transmission talisman. "But too bad you let me kn—"
His words were severed, not by sound, but by a SLASH!
A blade of condensed fire energy, hotter than any forge, cleaved through the air. A jet of blood sprayed, and the acrid smell of seared flesh filled Qi Zhui's nostrils. A piercing agony, white-hot and absolute, shot from his wrist to his brain. He looked down, his mind struggling to catch up, and saw his severed hand lying on the cobblestones, the fingers still twitching around the talisman before the flames consumed it.
Before a scream could form in his throat, a second SLASH! cut the night. Qi Zhui's head tumbled from his shoulders, his eyes frozen in a permanent state of shock. Even as an 8th-level Spiritual Cultivator, he was a lamb before a lion against Qi Mo, who, though barely into the Origin Realm, operated on a fundamentally higher plane of power.
Qi Mo watched the head roll to a stop, a sigh of relief hissing through his teeth. The thorn was removed.
"Kill everyone," he commanded, his voice dropping to an icy whisper that carried the weight of death.
The Beast Flame Sect disciples, no longer needing to maintain their charade, shed their Qi clan disguises in spirit. Their auras flared, bestial and violent, as they encircled the small garrison. The ensuing battle was not a fight; it was a slaughter. Swords flashed, and spells of dark fire erupted, cutting down the loyal Qi clansmen before they could even form a proper defense.
Screams of pain and curses of betrayal echoed against the cold obsidian walls. "Qi… Mo! We curse you! May you face a fate… worse than death! TRAITOR!"
Qi Mo stood impassive, the venomous cries washing over him. "Faster!" he barked, his tone frigid. "Do not let their screams become an alarm! End this now!"
With a final, concentrated volley of beast flame, the last of the defenders were incinerated, their bodies turned to ash that was scattered by a gust of wind.
"The Fen Clan approaches," Qi Mo announced, turning to the colossal northern gate. "Prepare to welcome His Highness. Open the gate!"
The disciples rushed to the immense doors, gripping the giant metal rivets and heaving. Their muscles bulged, veins popping on their foreheads and necks. But the gate, forged from the legendary Obsidian Magma ore, groaned with immense weight, moving with agonizing slowness. The sound of metal scraping on stone—Crhhhhhh, Crhhhhhh—was deafening, and deep scars were torn into the rock tiles beneath.
"This is too slow!" Qi Mo snarled, shoving a disciple aside. He planted his hands on the colossal door, his Origin Realm strength flooding his limbs. The gate moved faster, but still not fast enough. A cold realization dawned on him.
So this is Fen Juechen's game, he thought, sweat beading on his brow. The sly fox never gave me a specific time because he knew this would happen. He knew opening this gate would be a struggle, an event that would inevitably alert the clan. He used me as the trigger for the alarm, ensuring his own forces are perfectly positioned for the charge. I've been dancing to his tune all along.
---
Meanwhile, beyond the walls…
A scout clad in Fen clan colors knelt in the dirt. "Patriarch! Movement at the Qi clan's northern gate. The signal has begun. The garrison awaits your command."
Fen Juechen's lips curled into a thin, cruel smile. The moment he had waited decades for had arrived. "Ready the garrison. Tonight, we will bathe the Qi clan in their own blood and herald the rebirth of our Fen Clan!"
"Understood, Patriarch!" The scout vanished into the shadows.
Fen Juechen slowly drew his sword. The blade slid from its scabbard with a whisper of cold steel, a deadly glint catching the moonlight. "Qi Clan," he murmured to the night, "sharpen your necks. My sword thirsts."
He mounted his war-beast, his voice erupting into a thunderous roar that echoed across the assembled army. "FEN CLAN! ARE YOU READY?!"
"YES, PATRIARCH!" Thousands of voices thundered back, a wave of palpable bloodlust.
"THEN MARCH! FOR GLORY! FOR VENGEANCE!"
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
The earth trembled under the synchronized march of heavy boots. It was not just a sound; it was a declaration, a drumbeat of impending doom for the Qi clan, resonating through the very bones of Floating Cloud City.
BOOM!