The wind carried the scent of war.
Smoke curled from temple peaks. Ravens circled above the ancient forests. Across the vast cultivation world, a storm was gathering—and at its eye stood a single name spoken in fear:
> Mo Tian.
In the heart of the Jade Sky Sect, the elders of the Five Great Clans stood in a circle of floating jade platforms. Each was a monster in their own right—cultivation above the Nascent Soul realm, command over armies, and revered by millions.
Now they looked shaken.
A massive scroll floated between them, inked with dark blood. It was Elder Fang's death record—his soul imprint had shattered. No message. No scream. Only silence.
> "His Dao was utterly devoured," one elder whispered. "This wasn't just murder. This was… spiritual erasure."
The Grandmaster of Jade Sky Sect, Dao Lord Xuan Zhen, clenched his fist.
> "He must be destroyed before he reaches Soul Severing. If he ascends with that heretic Dao, the heavens may never recover."
A second voice, sharp and arrogant, cut through the tension.
> "Let me handle him."
The speaker was young—barely twenty. Clad in gold robes, with a celestial sword floating behind his back. His eyes burned with righteous pride.
> Ye Qingyu, heir of the Heaven Flame Sect. Genius. Prodigy. The youngest to reach Golden Core in 200 years.
> "I've trained under the Divine Phoenix Scripture. I've cleansed demonic sects since I was thirteen. I will strike down this Devourer before he poisons another inch of this world."
The elders looked to one another.
Then, they nodded.
---
Elsewhere — In the Northern Black Forest
Mo Tian stood barefoot in the snow, surrounded by shattered talismans and frost-coated corpses.
A third sect had tried to assassinate him.
A third sect had failed.
His cultivation now neared the late Core Formation stage. The Devouring Dao grew more insatiable with each soul consumed. He no longer needed to sit in meditation—his very presence sucked in spiritual energy like a dying star.
As he looked down at the last enemy—a monk who had once purified cities with his chants—Mo Tian spoke calmly:
> "Your voice healed cities. But your silence… tastes sweeter."
He pressed his palm to the monk's forehead.
The man screamed once—and then fell still.
Mo Tian closed his eyes, and for a moment, he remembered his mother's voice. Gentle. Broken. Pleading as flames consumed her body under the judgment of the Celestial Sect.
> "I begged them for mercy," she had said, dying.
"And they laughed."
Mo Tian opened his eyes.
There was no mercy now.
---
Later That Night — A Rift Appears
A surge of divine energy shook the land.
A golden figure descended from the clouds, standing atop a lotus made of flame.
> "Mo Tian," Ye Qingyu called, voice echoing across the frozen mountains. "Face me."
Mo Tian stepped from the shadows, halberd in hand. His black robes fluttered in the wind, stained with blood and frost.
> "Another child sent to die?" he asked.
Ye Qingyu raised a hand, and a phoenix cry tore across the sky.
> "No. I am the one who buries you."
The battle that followed shook the heavens.
Fire against void. Sword against halberd. Golden light clashed with devouring black.
Mo Tian grinned through blood.
> "Good. You'll be worth consuming."
---
Please wait for Chapter 6.