The three disciplines finally merged, flowing together into a single, seamless river of power within him. It was more than just the sum of its parts. It held the strengths of all three, but from their union, something new and terrible was born: the Fire Toxin Domain.
It was a tangible field of distorted force. When Jiang Dao willed it, the air for ten meters around him would warp and shimmer, becoming a suffocating trap. In that zone, the temperature and toxicity would flash-boil to fifty times their normal levels, a perfect cage of heat and poison designed to immobilize and execute evil spirits.
But the true, heaven-defying advantage was what it did for him. Inside his own domain, Jiang Dao's strength would triple. He could punch up, crossing the chasm between power levels to obliterate his foes. Even a Cataclysm-grade evil spirit, a creature of nightmare, now seemed like a challenge he could meet.
He glanced at the glowing panel in his mind's eye.
Strength: 8.2
Speed: 6.8
Spirit: 2.4
His strength and speed had jumped another 2.5%. Even his spirit had hit its physical peak. He couldn't begin to imagine the devastation he could unleash if he truly cut loose.
"Cough… cough…"
A ragged cough escaped his lips. He raised a hand to his mouth and stared at the smear of crimson on his palm. Before the blood could even settle, it began to sizzle, tiny wisps of flame rising from the droplets. The Yang energy, the pure fire in his veins, had reached a critical mass. Even his 420-year-level Longevity Art couldn't fully contain the inferno raging within him.
What's the term for this? he thought with a frown. Yin deficiency, that's it.
The body was a balance of opposites. His Yang was a raging sun, burning his body from the inside out, while his Yin was a shallow stream, too weak to cool the flames. It made his blood run like lava and scorched his meridians. He would have to modify the Longevity Art again, push it further. It was designed to nourish and heal, and its internal energy was Yin-aspected—the perfect counterweight to his Innate Fire Devil Aura. That, or find a purely Yin-based discipline to master.
He exhaled, and a plume of superheated air blasted out nearly five meters, instantly crisping the leaves of a nearby willow tree. They blackened, curled, and rained down as ash.
Jiang Dao turned, his presence so immense it felt like a physical weight. Even his eyes had changed. The normal black of his pupils was now shot through with smoldering, fiery embers.
As he moved, his Right Protector, Xiang An, who had been hurrying toward him, froze in his tracks. A primal fear, cold and sharp, shot up his spine. It was like being locked in the gaze of some ancient, predatory beast. The pressure rolling off his leader was a hundred times more terrifying than it had been just four days ago.
He broke through again? Xiang An's heart hammered against his ribs. This freak… he's not human.
"You need something?" Jiang Dao's voice was a low rumble.
"Leader," Xiang An began, his own voice unsteady, "it's about the Xie family from An Yang…"
"Ah." Understanding dawned on Jiang Dao's face. He shook his head, a gesture that seemed to rattle the very air. "My apologies. I was at a critical point in my training and lost track of time. How many days has it been? Did I miss it?"
A bitter smile twisted Xiang An's lips. "Leader, it's the afternoon of the fifth day. Your meeting was scheduled for the day before yesterday. We missed it. And… there's more." His expression soured, his eyes darting nervously.
"Spit it out," Jiang Dao commanded.
"Two days ago, I sent two Hall Masters to try and smooth things over," Xiang An rushed to explain. "But… they were both killed. The Xie family sent this back." He held out a sealed letter, his hand trembling.
Jiang Dao's brow furrowed. The mention of his murdered men sent a flash of brutal violence through his supercharged system. He was a tinderbox of pure Yang energy now, his temper a hair trigger. Killing his people was a declaration of war.
He tore the letter open. His eyes, glowing with inner fire, scanned the arrogant script. A cold sneer spread across his face as killing intent poured off him in waves. Without a word, he let his internal energy flow into his fingertips. The letter erupted in silent, white-hot flames, turning to ash in seconds.
"They have no idea who they're dealing with," he said, his voice as cold as the grave.
The letter was a litany of accusations, calling the Blazing Flame Gang arrogant and disrespectful. It ended with an ultimatum: the Xie family was giving Jiang Dao one last chance. He had three days to dissolve his gang and fold it into the Black Tiger Gang, swear fealty, and deliver a tribute of eight million silver taels. Do that, and they would graciously overlook his "insult." Fail, and the Blazing Flame Gang would be wiped from existence.
"This Black Tiger Gang," Jiang Dao said, his voice dangerously low. "Tell me about them. Why is the Xie family backing them?"
"They're a new power, leader. They've only been around for a decade, but in that time, they've swallowed dozens of other factions. They're nearly as big as we are now, with a rumored hundred thousand members and countless experts. Even Fang Tianba was wary of them. The rumor was always that they had some terrifying backer that let them expand so fast. Now we know who it is. This was never about the missed meeting. It was an excuse to devour us."
"Is that so?" A predatory grin stretched across Jiang Dao's face. "Then I suppose I'll have to see just how strong this An Yang Xie family really is."
A furious energy crackled around him. He was already in deep. What was one more powerful enemy? Offending the Spirit Child Palace was a death sentence; offending the Xie family couldn't make him any more dead. And besides, they had drawn first blood. His Hall Masters would be avenged.
"Tell the men," Jiang Dao commanded, his voice ringing with absolute authority. "The morning after tomorrow, everyone gathers at headquarters. I want to see the Xie family try to kill anyone under my watch."
"Yes, Leader!" Xiang An bowed and hurried away, a storm of fear and excitement churning in his gut. They had one day left before the deadline. One day, hell came knocking.
In a dilapidated village miles away, a young man in spotless white robes walked through the gray ruins. He moved with an unearthly grace, his black hair unstirred by the wind.
"Just a common gang of mortals," he mused to the empty air. "Why involve the family? Couldn't you handle this yourself?"
"You're the only one they sent?" a coarse, chilling voice replied.
From the shadows of a collapsed hut, a hulking figure emerged. The man's face was split down the middle—one half a ghastly white, the other a deep, unnatural black. As he appeared, the very light seemed to bend around him, dimming. A single, long braid hung down his back from a head clad in a simple red coat.
"Am I not enough?" the man in white replied with a pleasant smile.
"Let's hope so," the yin-yang-faced man rasped. "I'm at a crucial stage and can't be disturbed. The Blazing Flame Gang is your problem now."
"Don't worry. I can have them pacified by morning," the man in white said breezily. "Oh, apologies. I forgot you still have a use for them. Well then, I'll just cut the head off the snake. Once their leader is dead tonight, the rest should fall in line, don't you think?"
"Be careful," the other warned. "He may be mortal, but he's at the peak of the Divine Power Realm. He can fight a Strong-grade evil spirit. Don't get cocky and underestimate him."
"The peak of the Divine Power Realm…" The man in white's smile widened. "A few days ago, I broke through to the Cataclysm level. And I successfully bonded with an evil spirit. Tell me, do you really think there will be any surprises?"
The yin-yang-faced man stared at him for a long moment, then said nothing more.
The An Yang Xie family was… different. Unlike other exorcist clans, they didn't just rely on their bloodline. They fused with evil spirits, becoming symbiotic hosts to rapidly amplify their power. Both of these men had done it. But the one with the two-toned face was a far more twisted case. He wasn't just a host. He was half-human. The fusion had gone wrong, mutating his body into that of a spirit, while his soul remained trapped inside. He was a ghost in a prison of his own flesh.
The night was heavy and still, the moon choked by clouds. Somewhere in the gang's compound, a dog's frantic barking tore through the silence.
Then, a choked-off yelp.
A thin black cord, impossibly fast, had whipped around the dog's neck, hoisting it into the air and strangling it against a tree branch. The animal thrashed, its paws clawing at nothing, before its neck snapped with a sickening crack. It hung there, limp, its fur stirring gently in the night breeze.
Deep inside the headquarters, Jiang Dao slept.
With absolute silence, a black cord slithered under his door like a serpent made of shadow. It crept across the floor, swift and silent, before lashing out and wrapping itself around his throat, pulling brutally tight.
Jiang Dao's eyes snapped open, blazing like twin coals in the darkness.
"GET. OUT."
His hand shot up, grabbing the cord. It was shockingly cold, slick, and unyielding like ancient ice. His grip slipped on the first try, a biting chill seeping into his palm. But in the next instant, the furnace of extreme Yang energy inside him roared to life. He seized the cord again and tore.
With a wet, ripping sound, the cord came free. It was still alive, writhing in his hand, trying to coil up his wrist to get at his neck again.
"Die," he snarled.
A torrent of Fire Toxin Aura erupted from his palm, flooding the cord with boundless, searing energy.
BOOM.
A piercing shriek echoed from within the cord itself. It went limp, its surface instantly corroding and hissing as it dissolved into nothing.
Jiang Dao stood, his eyes like chips of ice. An evil spirit? Or just its puppet? The panel in his mind showed no change; his techniques were all still [Unmodifiable].
He rose from his bed and threw the door open, his massive frame silhouetted against the pitch-black courtyard. Killing intent radiated from him, a palpable pressure in the air. A non-human entity had breached his walls.
A terrifying smile stretched his lips. He stepped out into the darkness.
"Come out, little darling," he crooned, his voice a low, menacing growl. "You wanted to kill me, didn't you? I'm right here. Where are you hiding?"
His gaze swept the area. The torches and lanterns that should have been burning were all extinguished. It didn't matter. To him, the darkness was as clear as day.
Silence.
Then, from the front courtyard, he heard it. A sickening series of wet cracks and pops. The sound of bones breaking.
A cold fury ignited in his gut. He didn't run; he exploded. The ground beneath him shattered as he launched himself forward, a human missile leaving a trench in his wake.
He burst into the massive training square with a deafening boom. The sight that greeted him stopped him cold.
His men, the night patrol, were all hanging in mid-air, suspended by identical black cords around their necks. Many were already dead, their heads lolling at unnatural angles. The others were still alive, kicking and struggling in silent agony, unable to scream past the cords crushing their windpipes.
And standing beneath them all, a faint, pleasant smile on his face, was the man in the spotless white robes.
"Well done," the man said, his voice light and conversational. "The new leader of the Blazing Flame Gang. Escaping the Strangling Cord so quickly. Impressive."
"You're an exorcist," Jiang Dao stated, his voice a low growl that vibrated through the stone ground. The killing intent rolling off him was so thick it felt like heat. His bones and sinews began to crackle and pop as a wave of fearsome energy pulsed from him. His entire body began to swell.
Rip. Tear.
His clothes shredded, hanging off his rapidly expanding frame like rags. Vicious, dark muscle boiled to the surface, crisscrossed by thick, purplish-black veins that writhed like buried serpents. In moments, he stood over three meters tall, a monster of pure rage and power. Jagged layers of black keratin erupted from his elbows and knees, forming deadly barbs. The temperature in the square skyrocketed.
The man in white stared, his smile finally faltering. "That… that's a martial art? I've never seen anyone take it to such an extreme."
"Now you have," Jiang Dao said flatly. "Have you decided how you want to die?"
"Die?" The man's smile returned, strained and arrogant. "You think a mere mortal can kill—"
BOOM!
The air itself detonated. Jiang Dao vanished, becoming a blur of motion inside a shockwave of heat. He was a juggernaut, a living battering ram, and his five fingers, wreathed in roaring fire, clawed through the air straight for the man's throat.
The man in white laughed, seeing what he thought was a foolish, suicidal charge. He didn't even bother to dodge. He took a step forward, his own arm blackening with a corrupt energy, and threw a punch to meet the attack head-on. "You dare rush me, mortal? I'll show you the meaning of—"
CRACK!
The impact was cataclysmic. The ground shook, and every single paving stone in the courtyard shattered, exploding upward like a claymore mine. The shrapnel tore through the air, ripping into the helpless bodies of the men still hanging above. They died in a final, gurgling symphony, their blood raining down in a fine mist.
A sickening bang echoed as the white-robed man was launched backward like he'd been hit by a cannonball. He slammed into the ground dozens of meters away, a broken mess of blood and bone. The arm he had punched with was simply gone, vaporized into a red mist, leaving behind only a splintered, bloody stump of a shoulder.
He lay in a heap, his face white with shock and agony. He coughed, spraying blood, a searing pain ripping through his insides like he'd swallowed fire and razor blades. He couldn't believe it. His arm, shattered by a single punch from a mortal? It was impossible.
Jiang Dao stood where he was, unmoved, not even having swayed from the impact. He looked up at the bodies of his men, still hanging grotesquely in the air, and his face was a mask of cold, implacable fury.
"Your deaths won't be in vain," he said, his voice low and heavy as he started walking toward the broken man. "For every one of you, I will carve a piece from him as an offering."
He advanced, a walking volcano of heat and poison. With every step, his extreme Yang energy poured out, unrestrained.
Suddenly, a high-pitched squealing filled the air. The black cords around the dead men's necks began to writhe and shrink, as if in agony. They recoiled from the searing heat radiating from Jiang Dao, detaching themselves and vanishing into the darkness.
The bodies of his men fell to the ground with a series of heavy thuds.
Jiang Dao paused. A cold understanding dawned on him.
They're afraid of the fire.