A nameless and renownless cultivator looked up, exhausted. They had been trapped in that cursed formation for far too long—in a limbo where they could neither escape nor attack. All that remained was to wait in place, hoping to be released.
He didn't truly fear that the masters of the formation would attempt to take his life. After all, great sects and clans usually guard their reputation above all else; so, beyond being forced to hand over a few treasures as a "toll," his life seemed safe.
With that cynical confidence, he merely watched, waiting for something to emerge. He knew that as soon as the rogue cultivators loitering outside the formation acted, enough chaos would ensue not only to escape but perhaps to stab his own companions in the back and plunder their belongings.
Such betrayal was something the cultivators of the great clans and sects would label as despicable. They, always obsessed with protecting their pride and honor, were incapable of openly harming their fellow disciples—at least on the surface. However, for rogue cultivators, that was nothing more than a common occurrence, an occupational hazard that no one would bother to mention. In their world, loyalty was a luxury they could rarely afford.
As he wove these plans, a drastic change in the environment snapped him out of his thoughts.
Every rogue cultivator immediately noticed the shift in the atmosphere and turned their gaze toward the entrance of the secret realm.
"It seems someone who entered the secret realm is about to exit," someone whispered among the crowd.
Those few words were sparks in a powder keg. Desire and greed ignited in the chests of all, who began preparing their weapons and techniques to flee or launch a surprise attack. Some, with ambitions a bit too grand, were already stroking the hilts of their sabers while eyeing the spatial bags of the weaker ones.
Naturally, everyone present was hardened by the cruel life of a rogue cultivator. They immediately scattered, creating a prudent distance between one another while watching with hawk-like eyes; none wanted to be the poor wretch who ended the day robbed or murdered by their own allies.
While the internal chaos grew, the outside world did not stop. The woman guarding the formation—a beauty with a celestial face who looked like a true fairy—abandoned her post and hurried toward the entrance of the secret realm.
But she wasn't the only one. The cultivator observed with a pang of resentment as three beautiful women closely followed a young and handsome man. A flash of pure hatred escaped his gaze; he loathed those bastards blessed by fortune, capable of having women of such beauty serving them with absolute fidelity.
In his mind, bitterness bubbled: if only he had possessed a shred of that luck or a slightly superior talent, he would be in that position of power, instead of being a simple wandering cultivator who didn't even know if he would see the light of the next day.
His gaze remained fixed on them, blinded by resentment, failing to notice the drastic change in the atmosphere. However, reality did not take long to strike.
"What the hell...?" he murmured in confusion.
Suddenly, he felt his body being crushed by an invisible force; it was the unmistakable and absolute pressure of someone whose strength surpassed all logic.
The air filled with the sound of shattering glass. The formation that held them prisoner was not deactivated, but rather collapsed by the sheer weight of the aura descending from the sky.
The banners and bronze coins that sustained the barrier fell to the ground, inert and stripped of all power. Had they not been forged from materials of the highest quality, they would have turned into fine dust in that very instant.
He looked up, and his eyes dilated. Floating before the entrance of the Secret Realm was a being whose features were almost impossible to distinguish, shrouded in a strange ethereal flame that seemed to constantly consume its body—devouring its flesh and essence without rest—though it did not seem particularly concerned by it.
"He's... flying," he whispered, his voice cracking with horror.
In that world, the ability to ignore the laws of the earth and soar through the heavens without the aid of celestial treasures or spiritual tools was the unmistakable mark of a divinity among mortals: it was the absolute power of an expert in the Nascent Soul Realm.
Horror washed over him like a cold sweat. He did not know if that entity was human or an aberration from another world, but observing its destructive aura, it became clear that it had no intention of letting them escape.
The rest of the rogue cultivators, those with enough experience to recognize a death sentence, reached the same conclusion. Finding themselves free from the cursed formation, they frantically activated their celestial treasures. The air filled with flashes of light as many disappeared from the site in a blink.
He did not stay behind. With trembling hands, he pulled out a Thousand-Mile Teleportation Talisman and tore it without hesitation.
His body blurred in space and, before he could process it, he had already covered an immense distance, appearing even beyond the limits of the Beast Mountain Range.
"I have to get away..." he sighed in relief, his heart hammering against his ribs. He doubted a being of that caliber would bother chasing an insignificant rogue cultivator. He tried to stabilize his energy and prepared to run as far as possible.
However, before he could take his first step, his field of vision began to spin violently, as if the entire world had lost its axis.
"What...?" he managed to stammer.
Ground and sky swapped places in a whirlwind of blood. Before him, a strange figure materialized out of nowhere, wielding a black halberd that emanated an ominous and lethal aura. The weapon vibrated with a bloodlust that seemed to freeze the very air.
"Any being that dares to look upon my master with such vile eyes deserves death," the figure declared in an unnatural voice.
The sound did not seem to emanate from human vocal cords; it was a harsh, forced vibration, as if the entity were using that body merely as a husk or a medium to manifest its will upon this plane.