The heavy doors of the Crimson Serpent Sect’s grand hall creaked open, a pair of disciplined guards bowing low as six elders strode in. Their robes flowed like waves of blood, embroidered with the coiled serpent emblem that marked their authority. Their presence was imposing, their combined aura a testament to the sect’s strength.
Near the center of the hall stood Vaelric’s aide, a slender man with sharp, calculating eyes, and the trembling disciple who had brought the news of the attacks. Vaelric himself remained seated on the jagged obsidian throne, his amber gaze fixed on the elders, a faint smirk curling his lips. His stillness was as commanding as the elders’ motion, an unspoken declaration of his superiority.
The elders stopped several paces before him, their faces a mixture of irritation and restrained fury. Elder Jayan, her silver-streaked hair catching the torchlight, folded her arms, her gaze sharp and cold.
“Speak,” she commanded, her tone carrying the weight of authority.
Vaelric’s aide stepped forward, his voice calm but precise, a sharp contrast to the disciple’s earlier panic. “Esteemed Elders, the sect is under attack. A group of mercenaries, organized and skilled, has struck multiple locations across Thornridge, targeting our disciples and outposts. They have already claimed the lives of twenty of our own.”
A ripple of outrage passed through the elders, their expressions darkening. Elder Varos, his hulking frame tense with anger, let out a low growl. “Mercenaries? They dare to challenge us on our own soil? What arrogance.”
The aide continued, undeterred. “These are no ordinary mercenaries. They fight with precision and ferocity, their techniques unfamiliar. They strike swiftly and retreat before reinforcements can arrive.”
“They’re cowards, then,” sneered one of the 3-star elders, a wiry man with a perpetual smirk. “Rats scurrying in the dark.”
The disciple, still trembling, interjected nervously, “Sect Master… I mean, Elders, their tactics are… unorthodox. They split into five groups, each hitting a different target. It’s chaos—deliberate chaos.”
Elder Jayan’s eyes narrowed, her sharp gaze fixing on the disciple. “And you’re here to tell us you’ve failed to contain a group of hired blades?”
The disciple flinched, his head bowing lower. “I… I…”
“Enough,” The aide’s voice cut through the room, calm yet seething with authority. He didn’t rise but leaned forward slightly, his amber eyes gleaming with menace. “The elders are more than capable of handling this. You have wasted enough of my time.”
He gestured dismissively, and the aide took a step back, his expression neutral. The disciple scrambled to bow and retreat, grateful to escape the suffocating tension of the grand hall.
As the disciple fled the hall, the room was left in a silence heavy with tension. The six elders stood rigid, their combined aura oppressive, but beneath their composed exteriors, a crackling animosity simmered.
Elder Varos’s piercing gaze settled on Elder Jayan, his lips curling into a sneer. “It’s almost poetic, isn’t it?” he began, his deep voice laced with mockery. “Rats scurrying into our sect, only for more rats to strike from the shadows. Your kind seems to attract trouble.”
Jayan’s silver-streaked head turned slowly toward him, her expression impassive but her sharp eyes gleaming like frost on a blade. “Careful, Varos. It’s unbecoming for an elder to let jealousy cloud his judgment.”
Another of the original Crimson Serpent Sect elders, a wiry man with a perpetual smirk, snorted derisively. “Jealousy? That’s rich, coming from someone who sold out her own sect to climb higher. Rats like you don’t inspire envy, Jayan. Contempt, perhaps, but never envy.”
Jayan’s two allies, both defectors from the Azure Blossom Sect, stiffened visibly. One, a burly man with a scar across his chin, took a step forward, his fists clenched. “We joined because we saw the truth,” he growled. “The Azure Blossom Sect was weak and doomed to collapse. We strengthened this sect with our knowledge and skills, yet you treat us like lepers.”
Varos laughed, the sound harsh and derisive. “Strengthened? Don’t make me laugh. The only thing you strengthened was your own coffers with the rewards you begged for.”
“…”
The other two were silent, and it was Jayan who had broken the silence.
“Enough. Let’s not waste any time with the pointless talk.”
The tense silence hung heavily in the hall as Jayan’s calm but cutting words settled between them. For a brief moment, even Varos seemed to hesitate, his sneer faltering under the weight of her icy demeanor. But his pride was not so easily silenced.
As Jayan turned sharply toward the doors, her two allies falling into step behind her, Varos’s deep voice rang out once more, dripping with mockery. “You rats should stay here, as you are. The Crimson Serpent Sect has no need for traitors to dirty their hands. We’re more than enough to deal with this matter.” Read new chapters at empire
Jayan paused mid-stride, her back to him, but she didn’t bother turning around. “Do as you please, Varos,” she said, her voice dismissive. “Your petty provocations don’t concern me.”
Her two allies exchanged glances, their expressions hardening in silent agreement. Without a word, they followed her out of the hall, their footsteps steady and unhurried, as if Varos’s taunts were little more than the barking of an inconsequential dog.
Varos’s sneer twisted into a grimace, his jaw clenching so tightly that the veins in his neck bulged. “Wretched wench,” he muttered under his breath, his fists curling at his sides. “Let’s see how long you can hold it in. Your arrogance will catch up with you, Jayan.”
The wiry elder at his side smirked, clearly enjoying the exchange. “Shall we let her make a fool of herself, or do we follow? Wouldn’t want her and her ilk taking credit for our work.”
Varos let out a low growl, his sharp eyes narrowing. “She’s desperate to prove her worth. If we move faster, we’ll gather the credibility before she even gets a chance.”
With that, Varos strode toward the doors, his heavy footsteps echoing in the grand hall. The remaining elders exchanged a final glance, their mutual disdain for the defectors evident, before following their leader. The large double doors groaned shut behind them, leaving the chamber empty save for the lingering tension.
But this was a fatal mistake.
A mistake that they would come to understand soon.
********
The thick silence following the elders’ departure was broken by the faint rustling of foliage outside the Crimson Serpent Sect’s grand entrance. From the shadows of the twisted ornamental bushes, a cloaked figure emerged, his movements so fluid and precise that it seemed the environment had shaped itself around his concealment.
The young man pulled back his hood, revealing a sharp, angular face partially obscured by the edge of the shadowed cloak. He brushed some stray leaves off the fabric, muttering to himself in a tone that carried both admiration and annoyance.
“This cloak really is something. Even a 4-star cultivator wouldn’t notice me unless they deliberately focused their senses.” His voice was soft, almost reflective, but there was a glint of satisfaction in his eyes.
The silence of the night shattered as the heavy presence of the young man disrupted the stillness. From the guard post at the gate of the Crimson Serpent Sect, two sentinels stirred, their attention snapping toward the cloaked figure standing unnervingly still.
“Halt!” one barked, his voice steady but wary. The man’s sharp features were partially obscured by his helm, but the tension in his stance was clear. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”
The other guard shifted, his grip tightening on the long spear he carried. His narrowed eyes scanned the stranger, suspicion flaring in his posture.
Before either could make another move, the young man’s hand darted to his side, drawing a sleek, thin blade in a single fluid motion. The air around him seemed to quiver as the blade caught the dim light, a faint shimmer of black starlight dancing along its edge.
SWOOSH!
In one impossibly fast arc, the blade flashed, cutting through the silence. For a heartbeat, there was no sound—just the faint hum of the weapon slicing the air.
SPURT!
Blood sprayed out in twin arcs, painting the ground and gate in a macabre display. The two guards froze, their bodies rigid before their heads slipped from their shoulders, thudding onto the ground with a grim finality.
The young man sheathed his blade in one fluid motion, his expression calm, unbothered by the carnage he had just wrought. He glanced down at the bodies, the faintest hint of a smile curling his lips as though he had merely swept aside a minor inconvenience.
“Now,” he murmured to himself, his tone almost conversational, “shall we erase the Crimson Serpent Sect?”
With that, he stepped through the gates, his cloak swirling behind him as he moved with inhuman speed. The sect grounds blurred around him, the world narrowing to the path ahead as he dashed through with purpose.
The faint shimmer of black starlight around his blade caught the torches’ glow, leaving streaks of eerie luminance in the air as he dispatched each foe who dared to cross his path. Guards and disciples fell like leaves before the storm, their cries silenced before they could even echo.
Dash. Slash. Blood. Silence.