Chapter 58
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Chapter 58: The Brewing Calamity (Part III)
Yexiao fled through the night’s shroud with the desperation of a banished cur, his mind a tempest of memories from a day prior when, clad in the tight black garb and bat-like cloak favored by his kin, he had perched atop the most ancient tree in the heart of the Night Forest.
Suddenly, the call of the Night Clan’s chieftain, Yemei, resonated through the forest, summoning all to the central plaza, a stone-paved expanse. There, bathed in moonlight, Yexiao received his charge—to lead over a thousand of his brethren to the nexus of Facet 01245 and the Ancient Realm, with a mission to quell the nascent ascendants of humanity. The Night Clan’s bloodthirst was a given, an innate trait as old as the forest itself, and Yexiao questioned not the intent behind such a formidable force for what seemed a meager task.
Upon reaching the designated plane, the sight that greeted him was one of woeful ascendants, thousands strong, their forms battered and marked by the wrath of celestial trials. A scent lingered in the air, the sanctity of angels from the heavens, a fragrance that the Night Clan loathed and sensed with ease. Yexiao discerned its source with practiced ease, knowing well the implications it bore.
No words were needed; the Night Clan feasted on the blood of men, and the vulnerable ascendants presented a banquet too tempting to ignore. Some of the humans were cunning, evading the inevitable, while others chose to stand and face their doom.
After a time, the deed was done, and a celebration ensued, with the captured ascendants’ blood serving as the most exquisite fare.
But fate had other plans, and disaster loomed unseen. Yexiao, blessed with an intangible sense of impending peril, had survived many a dire situation by heeding this inner voice. As unease settled in his heart, he retreated to the forest’s depths, seeking solace and cover amidst the verdant growth.
Horror! A man of terror, a demon in the night, moved with an ease that made the Night Clan’s renowned speed seem but a whisper. In the span of a fleeting moment, thousands of his brethren fell to the sky’s fiery rain of sword energy. Before Yexiao could muster a response, the sight of plummeting bodies, riddled with wounds, seared itself into his vision.
A chill raced from his feet to the nape of his neck, and with it, the realization of the true might of the enemy they faced. The chieftain’s summons of a thousand warriors now made a grim sense, but Yexiao could not shake the feeling of futility against such a force.
Fear, relentless and consuming, gripped him, robbing him of breath and resolve. He fled, driven by instinct, without the courage to look back, his path marked by the desperation of a creature forsaken.
The icy breath of his pursuer seemed to both recede and draw near, its presence a haunting specter that Yexiao could not shake. At times, he felt the hot exhale upon his neck, a reminder of the predator that lurked just beyond sight. The urge to look back was overwhelming, but fear rooted him, for he knew that in that moment of vulnerability, death might claim him.
A day passed, then a night, and still, Yexiao ran, each moment an eternity of terror and exhaustion. Over hills and through rivers he traversed, until at last, the familiar embrace of the Night Forest lay before him. With a mixture of relief and joy, he stumbled into its sanctuary, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.
Safe within the forest’s confines, Yexiao allowed himself a moment of respite, wondering if the demon king had moved on. The silence behind him spoke of days passed, and with it, a hope that the threat had dissipated. Turning, almost against his will, he caught a glimpse of a sharp sword’s gleam, and then… darkness.
Fengyun Wuji calmly retracted the Fifth Sword Gall, needlessly wiping it across Yexiao’s lifeless form. “You should not have looked back,” he intoned, his voice a cold whisper carried on the wind.
With a stride that bridged the gap between life and death, Fengyun Wuji moved past the fallen, his gaze fixed on the task at hand. Three days had brought him to this forest, guided by the hand of his fallen foe. His consciousness, a ripple in the fabric of existence, had found the Night Clan’s lair, and with it, the truth of their deeds. Yexiao, now devoid of purpose, met his end, a necessary sacrifice to the cause.
Debt in blood can only be repaid in kind, a vow Fengyun Wuji made the moment his disciple’s life was cruelly extinguished before him.
We flee when strength is wanting, but when slaughter comes knocking once more, we stand our ground, for we have transformed.
Atop the towering cliff, Fengyun Wuji stood, a sentinel against the gale, his gaze cast over the vast sea of black that was the primeval forest below. Closing his eyes, he spread his arms wide, his body inclined at a perfect angle to the precipice, a picture of serene defiance. And as he did, the forest below responded with a cacophony of snaps and crashes, an orchestra of destruction as ancient trees succumbed to his will.
The dust rose in waves, a tide of earth and wood, surging deeper into the heart of the forest, a path of ruin marking his intent.
In the depths of the forest, a figure shrouded in darkness atop a towering pillar, stirred from his slumber, his howl piercing the silence, a call to arms that echoed through the trees.
Above the dark forest, shadows flickered, converging on the cliff where Fengyun Wuji stood, a testament to the impending clash of wills and the dance of life and death.
This polished rendition maintains the full depth and detail of the original narrative, enhancing the vivid imagery and dramatic tension to provide a rich and immersive reading experience that captures the intensity and drama of the scene. If further adjustments or additional requests are needed, please feel free to inform me.