For an entire long day, the peak of Black Wind Ridge was steeped in an incredibly bizarre atmosphere. Thiet Phu, the mid-stage Foundation Establishment Chieftain renowned for his ferocity and brutality, after seeing the three mysterious messages, had issued an order that left all his subordinates astounded: the entire mountain stronghold was to enter a state of strict martial law. No one was permitted to descend the mountain, and no one was allowed to cause trouble.
He was no longer ferocious. He merely sat there on the high seat forged from the bones of magical beasts, his hands resting on his knees, his massive horse-chopping saber standing right beside him. He did not speak a single word. His tiger-like eyes stared fixedly out the doors of the Assembly Hall of Brotherhood, seemingly waiting, seemingly torn.
One hundred years.
Ever since the Blood Hand Demon General fell and the army of Blood Fiend Guards disbanded, he had wandered the lands, eventually occupying this Black Wind Ridge and establishing a faction of his own. He had tried to forget the past, tried to bury his identity as a Blood Fiend Guard. Yet deep within his heart, the loyalty and the oaths of yesteryear remained, like a smoldering ember that had never truly extinguished.
The appearance of those relics and the news of vengeance had fanned that ember back into a blazing flame. He was both hopeful and terrified. Hopeful that his master had truly returned. Terrified that this was merely a trap, a play orchestrated by some enemy to mock and humiliate him.
When night fell and a crescent moon hung suspended over the mountain peak, a figure draped in a black cloak and wearing a bamboo hat silently appeared at the doors of the Assembly Hall of Brotherhood. No one knew when he had arrived.
The person exuded no powerful aura, looking like nothing more than an ordinary Qi Condensation cultivator. Yet, when he appeared, it was as if the surrounding sentries were completely oblivious to his presence, as though he were merely a part of the shadows themselves.
Thiet Phu narrowed his eyes. He knew that the one he had been waiting for had finally arrived.
"You... just who are you?" he spoke in a hoarse voice, his hand already gripping the hilt of his saber.
The black shadow did not answer. He only slowly, very slowly, raised a single hand. Resting in his palm was a command medallion carved from black wood. Upon it, a freshly carved character—"VÔ" (Void)—radiated an aura that was both familiar and entirely foreign.
The Demon General Medallion!
Thiet Phu's entire body trembled. He could feel it—the Blood Soul Seal within his very bloodline was vibrating, rejoicing, expressing absolute submission.
"M-Master?" he stammered, moving to kneel.
"Hold on," the black shadow spoke, his voice raspy and bereft of any discernible age. "You do not yet fully believe, do you?"
Thiet Phu froze. It was true. The Blood Soul Seal could confirm the medallion was genuine. But whether the one holding the medallion was truly worthy was another matter entirely. The Blood Fiend Guards would only submit to the strong, to someone who could lead them to reclaim the glory of the past.
"Indeed," Thiet Phu stood up straight, the killing intent of a Chieftain flaring once more. "The Blood Fiend Guards will not submit to a weakling who only knows how to play tricks from the shadows! Unless... you can prove that you are even stronger than the old master!"
This was his final test. A gamble of loyalty.
The black shadow chuckled faintly, a smile hidden beneath the brim of his hat. "Very well. I shall grant your wish."
He did not bring out any magical artifact. He merely drew the cloth-wrapped dull black saber from his back.
"Attack me with one strike, using your full strength," the man said. "If I take even half a step back, this Demon General Medallion shall belong to you."
"Arrogant!" Thiet Phu bellowed. He felt humiliated. Yet, this was also the best opportunity. "Then do not blame me for being impolite!"
He did not hesitate in the slightest. His mid-stage Foundation Establishment cultivation erupted. The blood aura and killing intent he had accumulated over decades condensed onto his horse-chopping saber. He did not use a technique of the Black Wind Stronghold. He used the very saber art he was most proud of.
"Asura Blood Slaughter Saber - Fifth Stance: Blood Waves Heaven-Toppling!"
As the saber slashed out, the surrounding air seemed to be sucked dry. The saber-qi transformed into a colossal wave of blood, carrying the shrieks of countless resentful spirits, crashing directly toward the black shadow. This was an all-out strike, sufficient to level an entire small hill!
Facing such an earth-shattering attack, the black shadow showed absolutely no intention of dodging.
He also swung his saber.
But the stance the man used caused Thiet Phu's eyes to bulge perfectly round.
It was also the Asura Blood Slaughter Saber! Yet it was completely different!
It contained no resentful aura, no bloody light. Instead, it was enveloped by a stream of golden Primordial Chaos Qi—upright, brilliant, and unyielding. The trajectory of the blade was still treacherous and ruthless, but it carried an "Intent" of tempering, of purification.
This was a version of the Asura Blood Slaughter Saber that had been reformed by his Saber Intent—Hundredfold Tempered!
"Asura Blood Slaughter Saber - Sixth Stance: Infernal Void Slash!"
A stance that even Thiet Phu had never successfully cultivated!
A line of golden saber intent, as thin as a cicada's wing, devoid of any terrifying momentum, flew out silently to directly confront the colossal blood wave.
There was no earth-shattering explosion.
That line of saber intent, much like a hot knife sliding through butter, gently sliced into the violent blood wave. The moment it made contact, the wave was instantly "purified." All the resentful aura and killing intent within were incinerated into nothingness by the righteous aura of the Primordial Chaos Qi. The colossal blood wave slowly, very slowly... disintegrated in mid-air.
The golden line of saber intent, after obliterating Thiet Phu's technique, did not diminish in the slightest as it continued its flight.
It did not slash into Thiet Phu's body.
It merely brushed gently past his thick beard.
Swish.
Half of Thiet Phu's beard soundlessly fell to the floor.
Thiet Phu stood frozen in place, his entire body turning ice-cold. He knew that just now, if the other party had wished it, the thing falling to the floor would not have been his beard, but his head.
He had lost. He had lost, and he submitted wholeheartedly.
The other party didn't just know the secrets of the Blood Fiend Guards. He could even reform and elevate the old master's saber manual to an entirely new realm. This person was truly worthy!
He did not hesitate in the slightest. The horse-chopping saber in his hand fell to the ground with a clatter. He dropped to both knees and kowtowed heavily.
"Subordinate Thiet Phu, pays his respects to the Lord! I swear in this life and the next, I shall follow the Lord to the very end, not shrinking back even if I must plunge into boiling oil or a sea of fire!"
In the shadows, Tran Kien—or rather, the Faceless Lord—quietly sheathed his saber.
He knew that the most ferocious tiger had truly been subdued.
He said nothing. He merely tossed another command medallion toward Thiet Phu.
"Gather all the remaining Blood Fiend Guards," his raspy voice rang out. "Within one month, I want to see every last one of them present in the City of Chaos."
Having said that, without waiting for Thiet Phu's reply, his figure merged into the night, vanishing without a trace.
He left Thiet Phu kneeling there, clutching the command medallion. The man's eyes overflowed with fanaticism and a hope that had long since died, now burning violently once more.
The era of the Blood Fiend Guards... was about to return.