The wind carried the scent of cherry blossoms and fire.
As Bạch Tiêu Nhiên disappeared into the darkness, Vạn Thiên Phong stood motionless for a long while. His hand tightened around the wine cup, until fine cracks spread across the porcelain.
"I'll be the one to stop you."
Those words shouldn't have meant anything. He had been called worse. Threatened by stronger. Hunted by the so-called righteous. But when she said it—so calm, so certain—his heart responded. Not in fear. Not in rage. But in something stranger.
Curiosity.
---
Back at the Hidden Abyss Palace—his true base, built deep beneath the desolate mountains of the West—his inner circle gathered. A group of misfits, monsters, and loyal madmen.
Ghostblade knelt beside the flickering black flame. "The sects are forming an alliance," he reported. "Nine major factions have agreed to hunt you down. A bounty has been issued: ten million spirit stones for your head."
"Only ten million?" Vạn Thiên Phong smirked. "I feel insulted."
"There's more. They're holding a secret summit at Starfall Valley in seven days."
Perfect.
"Good," he said, eyes gleaming. "Let them all come together. It'll save me the effort of destroying them one by one."
Ghostblade hesitated. "There's something else... the Divine Oracle has awakened."
Silence fell.
Even the flames dimmed.
Vạn Thiên Phong's expression froze. "The Oracle? Are you sure?"
"Yes, Master. She issued a prophecy last night. About a 'Child of Calamity who walks with shadows and tempts the stars.' Everyone believes... she's referring to you."
Vạn Thiên Phong laughed—a cold, mirthless sound. "Of course she is. The heavens are trying to warn them."
"But they won't listen."
"No," he said, turning toward the giant map spread across the blackstone table. "They never do. Until it's too late."
He pointed at a spot marked in blood—Starfall Valley.
"Prepare the Shadow Legion. We'll give them a prophecy they'll never forget."
---
Meanwhile, across the continent, at the Sacred Lotus Temple, the Oracle sat amidst golden light and floating lotuses. Her eyes were blind, yet they saw through time itself.
"He rises," she whispered. "Born not to save the world, but to break it. A villain written into fate… or perhaps a hero lost in translation."
Her disciples knelt, trembling.
"What shall we do, Master Oracle?"
She said nothing for a long moment.
Then: "We watch. We wait. And we pray… that the girl who once stood beside him still holds the power to stop him."
---
Seven days passed.
Starfall Valley bloomed with tension. Hundreds of cultivators arrived—sects, clans, martial families, even hidden hermits. Banners fluttered. Swords gleamed. Spiritual beasts roared in cages. This was not a meeting—it was an army preparing for war.
At the central pavilion, the sect leaders discussed alliances, terms, and strategy.
"This is our chance to end him," barked Elder Bai of the Thunderclap Sect. "Before he becomes unstoppable!"
"Agreed," said the icy Matriarch of the Jade Phoenix Clan. "We strike with everything."
Then a voice rang out—calm, low, and far too familiar.
"You're all very loud for people about to die."
Gasps. Screams. Blades were drawn in an instant.
And there he was.
Vạn Thiên Phong stood at the entrance of the valley, arms folded behind his back. Alone. Unarmed. Unafraid.
"You—!" Elder Bai roared, leaping forward.
Vạn Thiên Phong simply raised a hand.
Boom.
The elder froze mid-air—then exploded into a mist of blood.
Panic. Chaos. People scrambled. Some tried to flee. Others charged. But from the cliffs, the sky, and even the shadows beneath their feet, Vạn Thiên Phong's army emerged.
The Shadow Legion.
Figures clad in obsidian armor. Masks of bone. Blades laced with soul venom. They moved like phantoms, cutting through the righteous cultivators like grass.
But Vạn Thiên Phong ignored the battle.
His eyes searched—for one person.
And then, he saw her.
Bạch Tiêu Nhiên.
She stood across the valley, sword in hand, expression unreadable.
He stepped forward. So did she.
Around them, the battle paused. Two legends meeting. Two forces colliding. The world held its breath.
"I told you I'd stop you," she said.
"I remember," he replied. "And I told you… I welcome it."
She lunged.
He met her head-on.
Their blades clashed—ice against shadow. Light against dark. Every strike was poetry. Every dodge, a dance. Neither held back. Neither hesitated.
"You've killed innocents!" she shouted.
"They were never innocent," he replied, eyes burning.
"You're lost!"
"No. I'm free."
Their auras burst—the valley cracked. Mountains trembled. The sky dimmed.
And then…
Silence.
They stood inches apart. Her sword at his throat. His fingers near her heart.
Both bleeding.
Both breathing heavily.
"You can still turn back," she whispered.
He looked at her… and for a brief moment, the mask slipped. Behind the cold, behind the cruelty… there was a boy. Wounded. Alone. Angry at a world that never gave him a chance.
But only for a moment.
Then he smiled.
"I can't. I've come too far."
And with a surge of darkness, he vanished.
---
That night, the world changed.
Thousands died. The valley burned.
The cultivation world declared war.
And in the shadows of the ruins, Vạn Thiên Phong stood atop a scorched cliff, gazing at the stars.
He was no longer a rising villain.
He was the villain.
And his war had only just begun.
[end of chapter 8]