Yes, that tournament was a smashing success. Many, many new recruits joined that same day. I also became quite a known figure, with my alloyed skin, tail, and third eye now known to the public.
I enjoyed the pleased expression of Mo Yang these days. The clan was being restored, the grounds being cleaned, you could see eager youths training, and the elders of the clan, as few as they were, overjoyed as the sight they saw
A real clan, this is how it looks.
I became the unofficial young master, and many refereed to me as 'lord'. I told them to stop, but they never listen.
As much as the clan grew livelier, the life force in Mo Yang's body faded more and more. When I confronted him about it one night, he told me he would die soon.
"My son, I can feel he is waiting for me at the end of the river. " he spoke with melancholy. I had no response to that. One thing bothered me, however.
"Who was that cultivator?" I had hesitated to ask many times, but now, as he tells me he will die, I asked the question.
He would not answer, and merely shook his head. He did not speak, but I could tell he was saying.
It doesn't matter now
And my heart told me he was right. We sat there in silence, and when he began to fall asleep, I slipped out. I still lived in a servants house, many of the new clan members would ask me why, and I told them it was more cozy. They all thought I was crazy, too.
Now that the clan was filling, servants had begun to join too. Rumors of me pleasuring myself all night long ran rampant through the clan.
I still thought of Mo Wan, the boy whom I could not help but crush, the boy whose life I took. I wonder if he was watching from the edge of the river. One day, I would apologize.
But now, there were whispers of a war, as the Tribal Alliance in the west began to fear the Clan's growth, all intelligence told that an attack was imminent. This was an alliance of over 87 tribes that move across the desert in a horde. They were united by one man, simply known as the "Czar"
These tribal cultivators were weak, very weak. Many had only foundation stage, rare talents had dantian stage. A few geniuses could make triple point.
Only Czar is said to have reached the outer field. If he was born in a clan, many speculate that he could be at the heaven-severing stage already, and easily the domain stage.
I'm no warlord or general, but everyone knows that getting the first strike is a huge advantage. Given the previous deficiencies and inaction of the Mo clan, they would surely not expect an attack.
It was at that time, I began to feel my blood simmer with excitement, fighting, combat, strengthening, killing.
Warrior.
The Lord of stars resurfaced once more, it seems he will appear when slaughter is going to begin.
"HAHAHA." he could not be happier, "Once more, we fight, we kill, we grow. This is the only path I want to see you walk."
"What the hell happened to you? What did your daddy do to you as a kid?" I questioned with a sense of animosity. Why? Why did he always push me to slaughter?
"Nothing happened to me." He responded with a buried fury. "It is you who is broken."
"That's enough, go back into your cave!" Au-ha spat out with annoyance.
"Hahahaha! fine. But only after the slaughter is complete. 87 tribes? One leader? You know what to do." he laughed savagely, the energy of a madman oozed off him.
Before I left, I saw Mo Yang. Bedridden now, he read and read. Strangely enough, this was the most content I had seen him. He smiled as he saw me enter, and I attempted to smile back, but it surely came off crooked.
"Who will take over the clan?" I asked. It was something that weighed on me, he had no heir, and I could not be a clan leader.
"Ahhh," he smiled. "I've been thinking lately, having read these beautiful texts, I feel I understand now. You must learn to let things go. You must learn to go." he looked at the ceiling, exhaling lightly through his nose.
"I learned this a little too late, but at least I know now. If it is meant to stay, someone will take the reins." he laughed once more. He looked at me, and said something I'll never forget.
"You would have made an excellent son."
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That night, I saw Jia sewing as usual. She nodded at me and continued. These days, she was sewing new robes for the clan members. Her skills improved rapidly as she did this all day.
"Jia, soon, Mo Yang is going to die."
She stopped, frozen still. Her shoulders weakened as she slowly turned her head, a look of fear in her eyes. "Wha…" She struggled to form a complete thought, after much stuttering, she managed to eek out her query.
"Then what?"
Then what. One of the scariest questions a human, or any sentient creature can face. There is no answer, just suggestions, mere breath in the wind.
"I don't know. I'll go, travel to the other reaches, and escape this place. Jia, if you feel up to it, I think you could make a wonderful seamstress for the clan. It'll be the best dressed clan in the world, they'll come just for the robes" I joked.
she gave a nervous laugh
"The past is the past, people forget everything eventually. If Mo Yang endorses you, it'll be fine. Work with the clan, or go start a private practice as a tailor. All we can do is try."
She slowly nodded after a moment of contemplation. Still confused and unsure, she slowly began sewing again.
Later that night, I flew into the sky, destined to deliver death.
The 87 tribes roamed together. They called themselves the Alliance, they called themselves the horde. In the middle of the night, an insidious slaughter began to spread.
A beast of bloodied steel, four wings beating against the black sea that is the night, glowed of red lightning, and its sinister fingers would turn into purely electric blades. A third eye with two pupils shot rays of sanguine death. A long tail with the head of a snake, it smashed and ripped apart all those in its wake. He pushed and pulled with the force of a miniature sun, invisible magnetic fields dancing around him.
Death incarnate. The Horde was tens of thousands of members strong. Do you know how long it takes to kill ten thousand people?
A few hours of time, If you slaughter one person every few seconds. By the time I was done, the sun had not even broken into dawn yet. Blood was abounding, rich and overflowing, soaking the desert sands to its core.
I sat there and waited, for the morning sun to reveal the slaughter, and for the Czar to come see his dead sons and daughters.
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How does a mere human survive in the abhorrent land of beasts? One child knew it would not be possible.
Unless they took their power.
He was the son of a small tribe, and he implored his father. That the answer to salvation is within the beasts themselves.
Blasphemy! Begone!
His father would not hear another word. The beast were hellspawns, and they were the children of heaven. These beasts were created to make them stronger, so said his father. The boy walked away.
He had a lover, she was eaten by beasts. The boy found another, she became another feast. He found one more, and made sure she stayed at home. They had a child, he named him tsar, after himself.
Still, the beasts were overwhelming, and grew stronger by the day. The tribe was facing extinction, with no hope left, the people began to pray. So, the child took fate into his own hands.
He began to eat the beast, raw bloody meat full of spiritual energy. He grew stronger, and stronger. So he ate and ate. All throughout the night, the beasts had become the hunted, and the boy flew into a frenzy.
Beasts! They took so much, those sorry creatures will know my wrath! He devoured and devoured, evolving rapidly. There was nothing else in life anymore, merely slaughter, to grow stronger.
In the morning, every beast was gone. He had killed them all, and the tribe was safe. He walked back, a new beast, scarred and beaten, limp and broken. Yet, stronger than ever before.
It was a shame he did not know. He looked like a monster straight from hades now.
When he got to the village, they screamed and attacked. His father stabbed him through, and his wife took his child and ran. Confused, he laid there, slowly feeling around the spear that pierced his chest.
He looked up at this father. The father looked back.
He knew this beast was his son, and he ripped the spear out, and aimed to pierce the heart. The boy saw the tears leak out of his fathers eyes.
Then he swiped a monstrous claw, and turned his father into mere food. A few days later, he saw the mangled remains of his family.
Czar had lost everything.
As he wandered the desert, he only knew one thing.
He regretted not turning into a beast sooner.
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The czar went to kneel at the spot his tribe was destroyed often. A pain and guilt never fading in the nucleus that was his heart. His soul, his beastly soul, was constantly screaming on the inside.
When he took to the skies, soon enough he smelled the scent of slaughter.