Great Xuan, Xuanjing, the Grand Preceptor’s estate.
Li Fan held a wine cup, surveying the hall filled with civil and military officials who had come to celebrate his birthday. Though he had already reached the ripe old age of seventy, he couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride in his heart.
Nearly all the high-ranking ministers and nobles of the court had gathered at his estate today! Such prestige!
Li Fan was in truth not a person of this world; he had transmigrated here, and he had found himself as nothing but a destitute scholar.
Over the past fifty years, he had risen from a nobody to the Grand Preceptor, wielding power that shook the realm. His journey alone could fill a million-word epic.
With a life like this, what more could he ask for?
Li Fan stroked his beard and drained the cup in one gulp.
“A toast to the Grand Preceptor’s health!”
The assembled officials cheered in unison.
Li Fan’s satisfaction only grew.
But then, a discordant wave of exclamations erupted from outside.
“Look! What is that?!”
“Fire falling from the heavens—an auspicious omen! Quick, inform the Grand Preceptor!”
“Why does it seem to be heading straight for the Grand Preceptor’s estate?!”
The clamor outside made Li Fan frown.
The lively hall fell abruptly silent.
Li Fan rose to his feet and strode out.
Yet before he could even reprimand his servants or voice his displeasure, his attention was seized by the sight in the sky.
Far on the horizon, two streaks of silver light, one chasing the other, streaked toward them like meteors.
“What in the...” Li Fan froze.
In the blink of an eye, the two meteors reached Xuanjing and, shockingly, halted right above it.
At the same time, a voice like thunder boomed from the heavens, shaking the ears of all present.
“Dao Xuanzi! Do not push me too far!”
The crowd trembled in terror. Some even dropped to their knees, crying out, “Immortal Masters!”
At that moment, a word buried deep in Li Fan’s memory, nearly forgotten, suddenly surged to the forefront of his mind.
“Cultivators...!” he muttered, stunned. “How... how is this possible?”
The two cultivators in the sky clearly had no regard for the mortals below.
Another voice rang out, “Kou Hong! Did you truly think fleeing to the Immortal Forsaken Land would save you? Hand over the core formation method you stole, or this ends only with one of us dead!”
“Ridiculous!” Kou Hong sneered. “For a hundred years, I’ve been trapped at the Foundation Establishment realm. My time is nearly up, and I’ll soon be reduced to dry bones. All I lacked was the method to form my Golden Core. Now that I finally have it, you expect me to just give it up?”
“Exactly!” Dao Xuanzi sighed. “Only one can walk this path to the Golden Core realm. There are countless methods, yet more cultivators than ever remain stuck at Foundation Establishment!”
His tone suddenly turned vicious. “And so, with this core formation method before me, how could I possibly let you go? How could I not push you too far?”
Kou Hong laughed wildly. “Then let us settle this! How pitiful—a hundred years of brotherhood, only to end up fighting for survival!”
Dao Xuanzi only snorted in response.
But then Kou Hong’s voice took on a dangerous edge. “I know I’m no match for you. I don’t think I’ll be able to escape today. But tell me, Dao Xuanzi, with so many mortals gathered here, can you withstand the concentration of Immortal-Mortal Miasma?”
Dao Xuanzi’s face twisted in alarm. “Kou Hong! What are you planning?!”
Kou Hong’s laughter turned maniacal. “Just seizing my last chance to live!”
As Li Fan listened to the exchange above, a sense of dread gripped him. But before he could react, a crimson explosion erupted over Xuanjing.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Deafening roars assaulted Li Fan’s ears. His vision flooded with red, then darkness swallowed him whole.
***
He had no idea how long he lay unconscious.
When he finally awoke, confusion clouded his mind. It took several moments for the memories to return.
Li Fan coughed, spitting up blood, then shakily pushed himself up to survey the devastation.
Night still reigned. The once-opulent Grand Preceptor’s estate was now a smoldering ruin, and the stench of charred corpses choked the air.
Every high-ranking official who had attended his banquet now lay in pieces, their souls departed.
His wives, his concubines, his five sons—none had survived.
Li Fan’s aged face was devoid of expression. His gaze was hollow.
For a long time, he simply stood there. Then, with great effort, he dragged his weakened body out of the estate.
The once-bustling Xuanjing had become a hell of blood and fire. Ruined buildings and mutilated bodies stretched as far as the eye could see.
Perhaps fewer than one in a hundred denizens had survived.