Zhi Xuan cast a sharp, piercing gaze toward the Mo Family estate, reaffirming his intent to collect his debt by force. A day later, exactly as the sun began to peek over the lush green mountains in the east, the sky above the Mo Family residence suddenly darkened. This place was not merely a home; it was a fortress built upon a massive herbal garden, protected by a specialized formation of toxic mist.
Hundreds of cultivators had gathered before the auction pavilion, but the atmosphere—which should have been bustling with trade—felt like a death trap. Above the main gate hung dozens of war banners from the Heaven Sword Faction, and several Soul Transformation experts, from early to mid-stages, stood guard atop the walls with vigilant faces.
Zhi Xuan walked through the air, each step bringing him closer to the protective formation. His Ghost Hood still concealed his face, but the red light piercing through the fabric from his forehead was an identity that could not be hidden.
DREKK! DREKK!
Each of Zhi Xuan’s steps carried spiritual pressure that sent hairline fractures through the protective shield. The sound of his footsteps treading upon the void resonated with the heartbeat of every living being below. As the formation cracked, the toxic mist—the pride of the Mo Family—was forcibly parted, revealing the black-and-white robed figure bearing the red pillar of light on his brow.
"He is here! The Devil has truly come!" shrieked a Mo Family elder, his voice cracking.
Instantly, hundreds of pairs of eyes within the auction complex turned toward the sky. In a heartbeat, the air around the pavilion was no longer filled with the fragrance of herbs, but with a killing intent so dense it formed a visible fog.
The hatred triggered by the Mark of the Annihilator on Zhi Xuan’s forehead exploded simultaneously. To the cultivators there, looking at Zhi Xuan was no longer seeing a man; it was seeing the manifestation of every sin and threat that had to be purged from the earth.
"Gu Fengyan! You killer of Elder Cao! You dare set foot here after spilling the sacred blood of our faction?!" roared a core disciple of the Heaven Sword Faction, unsheathing his sword. His killing intent shot out like a sharp arrow, followed by thousands of similar intents from the other practitioners present.
Zhi Xuan did not stop. He continued to walk, letting the storm of killing intent batter his divine physique. To him, the pressure of hatred from these thousands was merely like ripples of water trying to shake an ancient crag.
"I did not come to speak of blood already spilled," Zhi Xuan’s voice was low, yet it slithered into the minds of his listeners like a demonic whisper. "I came to claim what nature provides, and what you have hidden."
"Impudent!" The roar came from an old man in moss-green robes: Mo Bei, the Head of the Mo Family. He stood on the highest podium of the auction pavilion, his hand gripping a wooden staff adorned with beast skulls.
"You flattened Mist Valley, killed the ruler of the City Hall, and now you come here as if this were a public market? Before all the heroes of the southern region, you are but filth we shall use as fertilizer for our herbal gardens!"
As soon as Mo Bei finished his sentence, it was as if a dam of destiny had burst. Hundreds of practitioners who were previously hesitant were now incited by the resonance of the mark on Zhi Xuan’s forehead. Their eyes turned red—not out of righteousness, but from a mass madness triggered by the bloodline curse.
"Kill him! His blood is the key to the Heaven Sword Faction’s grace!"
"His head is worth a mountain of high-grade spiritual stones!"
The wave of killing intent condensed, forming a dark vortex of energy beneath Zhi Xuan’s feet. Hundreds of spiritual swords, light spears, and explosive talismans were launched simultaneously from below, creating a rain of weapons that blotted out the sky. It looked like thousands of falling stars reversing direction, attempting to pierce the heart of the Annihilator.
Zhi Xuan stopped in mid-air, right at the center of the weapon storm. He did not draw his sword, nor did he call his Yin-Yang dragons. He simply spread his arms wide, letting his black-and-white robes flutter like the wings of death embracing the horizon.
"Noisy," Zhi Xuan hissed. He stomped his foot once, and with the pressure of a mid-stage Soul Transformation expert, the formation collapsed entirely.
Below, the rushing air pressure immediately crushed the cultivators below the Soul Transformation stage, giving them no chance and exploding their bodies into blood-dust. A thick cloud billowed high, created from dozens of low-level cultivators who had charged at Zhi Xuan, showing the world that he used the spiritual blood of those he slew to temper his body.
A rain of spiritual blood poured down, drenching the rooftops of the grand Mo Family pavilions. The metallic stench of blood stung the senses, but it only served to ignite a greater madness. For every cultivator who looked up at Zhi Xuan’s face, their eyes seemed sucked into the red vortex on his brow. The "Annihilator" mark manipulated their very souls, turning fear into blind rage and sanity into pure killing intent.
"Devil! He uses cursed sorcery to devour our comrades!" Mo Bei shouted, his own eyes now infected with a terrifying red hue. He slammed his skull staff, triggering a hidden formation beneath the pavilion floor. "Everyone, do not let him breathe! Whoever delivers the final blow to his head, the Mo Family will grant access to the Eternal Root Treasury!"
That promise, combined with the magical influence of the mark, created a wave of mass hysteria. Five Element practitioners who had been hiding behind pillars now leaped out with ferocious faces. They no longer cared for their safety; their only thought was the image of their blades piercing the heart of the figure in the sky.
"Die, Gu Fengyan!"
"Destroy his demonic body!"
Thousands of streams of pure killing intent—like invisible black threads—converged on Zhi Xuan, creating a mental pressure capable of shattering the souls of ordinary practitioners. Yet, Zhi Xuan stood tall, letting the hatred wash over his aura.
The threads of killing intent now manifested physically, forming a net of darkness that ensnared the space around Zhi Xuan. Every pair of eyes looking up—from wise sect elders to trembling low-level disciples—instantly lost their spark of humanity.
Their pupils shrank, replaced by the flickering red flames triggered by the resonance of the Annihilator Mark. To them, killing Zhi Xuan was no longer a choice, but an irresistible calling of nature, as if the entire universe demanded the life of the youth before them.
"I came to offer an exchange with the spiritual stones I seized from the mine," Zhi Xuan murmured coldly, a thin smile as sharp as a sword appearing on his lips. "But you refused and chose destruction instead."
The air above the Mo Family residence suddenly vibrated violently, as if space itself rejected Zhi Xuan’s existence. The mark on his forehead throbbed intensely, emitting red waves that swept in all directions like ripples in a pond of blood. Every individual hit by those waves—be they a powerful swordsman or a helpless healer—instantly felt their minds torn by an ancient, irrational hatred.
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"Look at his eyes! Those are the eyes that will swallow our world!" roared a Five Element expert from the Elephant Mountain Sect, his face turning feral.
Regardless of the difference in realms that was like heaven and earth, he leaped into the air, pushing his inner essence until his meridians burst, just to land a single strike on Zhi Xuan. One by one, thousands of practitioners in the complex were infected by the same madness. They no longer feared death.
In their eyes, Zhi Xuan was the center of all calamity that had to be destroyed for the world to remain standing. The killing intent gathered from thousands of souls condensed into a crushing black cloud, creating a field of hateful pressure that caused the buildings below to crumble.
Zhi Xuan looked down with a flat gaze, his sapphire eyes now completely obscured by the red mist from the mark. "Your killing intent is so pure, but unfortunately, it is driven only by forced ignorance."
Zhi Xuan moved his index finger, tracing a small circle in the air. "If the world wants me as a Devil, then I shall be the most vivid Devil in your memories."
WUSH—!
Zhi Xuan released the full weight of his mid-stage Soul Transformation spiritual pressure, without restraint, without mercy. The pressure slammed into the net of killing intent ensnaring him, shattering it into pieces. However, instead of retreating, the blinded practitioners crawled forward, dragging their bodies across the ground or flying with their remaining energy, just to reach Zhi Xuan’s robes.
An early-stage Soul Transformation expert from the Heaven Sword Faction, who should have possessed strong mental control, also succumbed to the curse. He unsheathed his silver sword, his eyes bulging until they bled. "Gu Fengyan! Heaven has marked you, and my sword shall be your executioner!"
He shot forward like white light, carrying Sword Intent that could split clouds. But before the tip of his blade touched a strand of Zhi Xuan’s hair, his body suddenly froze in mid-air.
Zhi Xuan merely looked at him, and with a single blink, he triggered the Law of Darkness. The shadow beneath the sword master's feet suddenly rose, turning into black hands that strangled the neck and limbs of their own master.
"You surrendered your souls to hatred, so your own shadows shall be the executioners of your bodies," Zhi Xuan said, his voice cold as eternal ice.
PRAK!
The neck of the early-stage expert snapped instantly by his own shadow. His body crashed toward the auction pavilion, but even the death of their comrade did not stop the others. The madness had become a plague. The cultivators trampled each other, climbing over the piles of their own comrades' corpses just to jump closer to Zhi Xuan.
Mo Bei, the Mo Family Head, now stood at the peak of the highest roof, his staff glowing with poisonous green fire. His aged face had turned into a terrifying mask of rage. "Attack! Destroy him with our numbers! Do not let a single inch of his body remain intact!"
Zhi Xuan exhaled, a breath that carried the vapor of slaughter. He waved his hand downward, and suddenly, the chests of spiritual stones he had seized from Mist Valley appeared around him, floating in the air.
"You want this wealth? You want my head?" Zhi Xuan sneered wildly. "Take it, if you can pass the gates of death I have built."
Zhi Xuan jerked his hands down. The chests did not fall as treasure; they hurtled down like meteors shrouded in gray fire. Explosion after explosion rocked the Mo Family residence. Every chest that hit the ground released a shockwave that tore the bodies of low-level practitioners into blood-mist.
Yet, amidst the rain of blood and debris, the killing intent directed at Zhi Xuan only soared higher. The Annihilator mark on his forehead seemed to suck in every drop of rage and resentment in that place, turning it into fuel for the red pillar of light that grew ever taller, piercing the heavens.
Hundreds of lives were wasted in vain. Zhi Xuan never stopped grinding them down, even bleeding himself to withstand every attack. His essence was nearly drained, yet the Heaven Sword Faction kept coming to squeeze him, forcing him to dodge and retreat several times.
Finally, on the third day of the slaughter, Zhi Xuan—whose hair was now almost stained a dark purple and his black-and-white robes drenched in blood—stood in the Mo Family courtyard, gasping for air. Around him lay the corpses of thousands: from desperate Transformation disciples to Five Element practitioners who knew not the vastness of the heavens.
Zhi Xuan collapsed to his knees in the middle of the courtyard, tilting his head back as the rain washed over his face. The dusk was dark. The Soul Transformation corpses left nothing but their fleeing Divine Spirits; others were shattered by the wrath of the Heavenly Sword, leaving the Mo Family courtyard looking like nothing more than a graveyard.
In the remnants of the Mo Family pavilions stood the women and wives of the elders, along with small children of the clan. They all watched in sorrow at the corpses of the Heaven Sword Faction and the Mo Family themselves, killed at Zhi Xuan's hands.
However, amidst the heavy rain, a small child from the Mo Family timidly approached Zhi Xuan with small steps. The tiny pitter-patter of feet broke the silence. A young boy, perhaps only six years old, walked closer. His expensive silk clothes were now soiled with mud and the blood of his own father.
His face was pale, tears wetting his round cheeks, but in his innocent eyes, there was no red fire of madness like the adult cultivators before him. The child was too weak to be infected by the resonance of the Annihilator Mark, or perhaps his heart was still too pure to understand the meaning of hatred.
The boy stopped right in front of Zhi Xuan. In his hands, he held a green jade box emitting a pale purple glow—the Night Petal Root Fruit that Zhi Xuan had sought.
"Mister..." the boy’s voice trembled, nearly lost to the sound of the rain. "This... this is what you are looking for, right? Please... please stop killing. Mother said, if this box is given to you, you won't take our lives anymore."
Zhi Xuan slowly lifted his head. His hair, now a dark purple, clung to his pale face. He looked at the boy with a hollow gaze—the look of one who has crossed a river of corpses. Seeing this child, Zhi Xuan’s memory suddenly flashed back to the children in Mist Valley he had saved inside his cauldron. A terrifying contrast: there he was a savior, here he was a butcher.
"What is your name, child?" Zhi Xuan asked, his voice hoarse and cold.
"Mo Chen..." the boy answered faintly. He prodded the jade box forward with hands that trembled violently. "Father said you are a Devil. But... but you look so sad. Does being a Devil hurt?"
Zhi Xuan's inner soul felt as if it were struck by lightning sharper than the Heavenly Sword. Sad? A Soul Transformation practitioner who had slaughtered thousands was called sad by a small child who didn't even know the meaning of killing or being killed.
Zhi Xuan took the jade box with blood-stained hands, soiling the sacred jade surface. As soon as the box changed hands, he could feel the pure, cold essence of the Night Petal Root Fruit within. This was the price of the thousands of lives lying around him.
Zhi Xuan sharpened his divine sense toward Mo Chen and the other children huddling in their mothers' arms with terror, seeing that within them lay pure Human Wheels, possessing the potential to become Divine Wheels worthy of starting the path of cultivation.
"Mo Chen," Zhi Xuan said, withdrawing his divine sense. "This world is indeed painful, for humans and for Devils alike. Do you blame me for killing your father?"
The young boy, Mo Chen, went silent. The rain flowing down his forehead fell past his eyelashes, making him blink repeatedly. He looked briefly toward the pile of corpses in the distance, where his father lay with his chest pierced by sword-light, then looked back at Zhi Xuan.
"Mother said..." Mo Chen’s voice was choked with suppressed sobs, "Father died guarding the tree. If you took the fruit, it means Father failed. But if Father didn't guard the tree, Father wouldn't have died. I don't know who to blame... I just want Father back."
Zhi Xuan closed his eyes slowly. The Annihilator mark on his forehead dimmed, no longer emitting the oppressive red glow, leaving only a bone-chilling cold. Those innocent words were an inner poison more lethal than any toxin in the Mo Family gardens.
"The world of cultivation knows no 'back', Mo Chen," Zhi Xuan whispered. "There is only 'advance' or 'perish'. Your father chose to advance against a current he could not stem."
Zhi Xuan slowly stood up, his tired and blood-soaked body appearing giant before the boy. He raised his right hand and carved golden runes, while his left hand gripped the spiritual wood of a fallen tree, shaping it with spiritual energy into a technique scroll.
Then, Zhi Xuan placed the golden runes, which became a guide for the cultivation path, providing understanding of what must be traversed from the Divine Wheel and First Ember to the Transformation realm. He placed the scroll in Mo Chen’s tiny hands, right over his cold fingers.
"Use this," Zhi Xuan said, his voice now flat and authoritative again. "Protect your mother, and protect your siblings. If one day you find your hatred is greater than your pain, come find me. I am Gu Fengyan, and I will be waiting. Make sure you do not fall before we meet again."
Mo Chen stared at the scroll, then at Zhi Xuan’s back as he began to turn away. "Mister... are you leaving?"
Zhi Xuan did not answer. He walked away, passing the rows of Mo Family women huddling in fear. They hugged their children tighter as Zhi Xuan’s shadow passed, as if fearing his aura of death would snatch their remaining lives.
Zhi Xuan did not cast a single glance toward them, but he dropped dozens of boxes of high-grade spiritual stones. To him, this slaughter was finished. He had obtained his price, and he had paid for it with the remnants of humanity he still possessed.
