'The Black Sector, Planet Xuan, 29th Millennia of the Celestial Calendar

Planet Xuan was a small, verdant world, renowned for its rich ecology and thriving life. For centuries, it had been ruled by the Xuan family, descendants of a once-great Sage whose mastery of formations had made them a formidable power. But with the fall of their illustrious ancestor, the Xuan family decayed from within, unable to produce another hero or scholar to reclaim their former glory. The grand palace that once shone with the brilliance of their power now flickered dimly, its formation lights weak and starved of the energy they could no longer afford.

As the pale light of one of the planet's three moons bathed the palace in a ghostly glow, a fissure appeared in the night sky near the surrounding forest. The crack was darker than the deepest shadows, a tear in the fabric of reality that revealed the cold void of space beyond. The air grew still, unnaturally quiet, as a jade hand emerged from the crack, gripping its edge with calm disregard for the sharp, ethereal darkness.

'Space gate opened successfully,' a monotone voice echoed from within the void. 'Seek the lord's permission to proceed.'

Another hand followed, pulling at the edges of the fissure, widening it with a struggle that felt both powerful and inevitable. A figure in tight black robes stepped through, his long hair flowing in the wind disturbed by the gate's unnatural presence. His sharp eyes scanned the surroundings, absorbing every detail with calculated precision. His gaze lingered on the distant palace, where a spark of concealed excitement flickered in his eyes.

'No mortals nearby,' he reported into the crack, now standing guard.

One by one, more men emerged from the gate. Each carried an air of authority—some exuded sharpness, others intimidation, and still others bore a cunning gleam in their eyes. Despite their differences, they all wore identical black robes, marked with a white hammer insignia on their chests, a symbol of their unwavering allegiance.

As the men fanned out, conducting their checks with practiced efficiency, they suddenly turned in unison towards the gate. With disciplined precision, they lined up along its sides, bracing as if preparing for the arrival of an emperor.

The space gate groaned, its form warping under the strain of the next arrival. The fissure widened, growing five times its original size, as a figure began to emerge from within. Though his height was modest, his presence filled the night air, overwhelming the space around him with an aura of command.

'Widen the gate,' came a sharp command.

The men at the sides obeyed instantly, pulling the edges wider with all their might.

First, a foot stepped through, followed by the rest of the man who strode out with deliberate grace. He was tall, his ink-black hair cascading down his back, eyes as sharp as blades, and brows like drawn daggers. Unlike the others, he wore a loose white robe adorned with the same hammer insignia. A black sword hung on his back, its presence as imposing as the man himself. Standing before his men, with the wind catching his robe, he resembled an exiled sword immortal—a figure both revered and feared.

The men looked at him with a mix of admiration, loyalty, and deep-seated fear. One stepped forward, bowing deeply.

'Leader Yun, all personnel have arrived. Preliminary checks confirm no mortals have noticed our arrival, and the palace formations remain inactive.'

Yun's gaze shifted to the palace, a trace of disdain flickering in his eyes.

'A Sage's lineage, reduced to this—unable to even power its own formations. Today, we rid the heavens of this burden.'

With a slight shake of his head, Yun moved forward, his presence parting his men like the sea. They followed in silence, knowing their task would be swift and merciless.

'Follow me,' Yun commanded, his voice cold and final. 'We'll be returning sooner than expected.'

Within the Xuan ancestral hall, an old man knelt in solemn reverence. His features were ordinary, easily lost in a crowd, yet his bearing hinted at a past steeped in power and authority. As he lit a stick of incense, the soft glow illuminated the portrait before him. The painting depicted a middle-aged man with long black hair streaked with gray, his snow-white robe offset by a green jade crown. Though his face was unremarkable, his eyes—a deep, endless black with no distinction between pupil and iris—spoke of a profound, ruthless wisdom. His thin lips were pressed into a stern line, revealing the cold determination of a formidable cultivator.

Behind the old man stood a youth, his appearance a reflection of the man in the portrait, a living echo of the family's once-great lineage.

Without turning, the Xuan patriarch, Xuan Yi, spoke in a voice heavy with the weight of years. "Son, tell me the family motto."

Kneeling behind his father, Li gazed at the bent, weary figure before him. The once broad shoulders, capable of carrying the heavens, now slumped under the burden of age and regret. Lowering his eyes, Li recited, "The end always justifies the means."

Xuan Yi let out a bitter, hollow laugh. "Yes! The end always justifies the means. But what if the means kill you? Our ancestor was mighty, blessed by the heavens. But without such blessings, what means do we truly have?"

His laughter echoed off the cold stone walls, more a sound of despair than mirth. Li's eyes darkened, his thoughts swirling in the silence that followed.

After what felt like an eternity, Li spoke, his voice barely more than a whisper in the vast, empty hall. "Father, you've overstepped, haven't you?"

The laughter ceased abruptly. Xuan Yi's gaze remained fixed on the ancestor's portrait, his voice now a murmur of resignation. "I didn't overstep, son. I simply lacked the means not to. In this world, the powerful pull the strings, and we dance, whether we will it or not."

Li's heart pounded in his chest. "Who?"

Xuan Yi's eyes stayed on the portrait as he answered, barely audible, "The Celestial Court."

Li's body tensed, the revelation hitting him like a physical blow.

"You've always been clever," Xuan Yi continued, his tone tinged with sorrowful pride. "Your mother's intelligence, the ancestor's eyes and talent with formations—they all live in you. But this old man... I've steered our family straight into the abyss."

Li's breath came in ragged gasps, his mind racing with a thousand desperate thoughts.

"Don't torment yourself, my son," Xuan Yi said softly. "I've disabled the formations. Pray to the heavens you won't have a useless old man like me in your next life."

Suddenly, the palace shuddered violently, as if the very earth beneath it were splitting apart. Li's gaze snapped to the window, where he saw a beam of sword light cleave the night sky, originating from the palace gates.

Terror seized him as he pointed an accusing finger at his father. "The Court actually sent a sword cultivator! What have you done, you damned old man?"

Xuan Yi slowly turned to face his son, his features twisted by fear and resignation. "I colluded with alien civilizations."

Li collapsed to his knees, his emotions shifting from anger to disbelief, then to a despair that mirrored his father's.

He stared at the ancestor's portrait, his voice barely a whisper. "The heavens have abandoned us. You colluded with aliens? They'll kill us all."

Xuan Yi sighed, seeing the reflection of their ancestor in his son's despairing eyes. He spoke with a sadness that only comes with understanding. "I tried to give you the means to survive, but all I did was condemn us both."

The palace trembled once more as the distant cries of the Xuan family being slaughtered echoed through its halls. The massacre had begun, and there would be no mercy.

Li's voice was raw, filled with the realization of their impending doom. "You called back every member of the Xuan family… just to have us all slaughtered?"

Xuan Yi's voice was a bitter whisper. "Foolish boy. You lack worldly experience. It was the Celestial Court—they forged the recall order. To them, it's as easy as flipping a hand."

The sounds of death and destruction closed in around them, and Li's vision blurred. But even as the world around him dissolved into chaos, his eyes remained locked on the family motto banner that hung in the hall: 'The end always justifies the means.'

A sudden clarity gripped him. His body shook as he stood and walked to the sacrificial altar, his hand closing around the hilt of the ceremonial knife.

As he approached Xuan Yi, his father's eyes held a mixture of relief and expectation.

"You finally understand the family motto," Xuan Yi said, his voice soft, almost tender. "Use every means you have to survive."

Li's hand trembled as he drove the blade into his father's heart. In that brutal moment, he understood his father's final lesson. Xuan Yi had used every means at his disposal to save his son, even at the cost of his own life. With a swift motion, Li beheaded his father's slumped form, taking the ancestral treasure as he prepared to face the Celestial Court.

The heavens might have abandoned him, but he would try everything in his power before giving up.

Yun strode down the blood-soaked halls, his white robes drenched in crimson from the meager resistance he had cut down. He could have kept the blood and dust at bay, but he chose to let it stain him. The sensation of warm blood splattering against his skin made him feel alive.

As he approached the ancestral hall, a slight frown creased his brow. Despite his overwhelming power as a sword cultivator, a single slash should not have been enough to completely destroy the guard formation. The formation had been deliberately weakened—likely as bait for an overconfident attacker. But this tactic only made sense if something within the hall posed a genuine threat. According to the court's records, the Xuan family patriarch was merely a senior Qi Gatherer, and no significant cultivators had emerged from the family in centuries.

Standing before the entrance, Yun steeled himself for a possible counterattack. Even a fallen Sage lineage might harbor dangerous secrets—after all, a thin camel is still bigger than a horse. He slid the door open, allowing a thin beam of light to pierce the darkness within. What he saw stunned him, if only for a moment. His men, who followed closely behind, exchanged confused glances, wondering what could cause such a reaction in their leader. Sensing their confusion, Yun opened the doors fully, revealing the scene inside.

A short youth, his robes drenched in blood, knelt before the door. Two piles lay before him—one was the severed head of the Xuan patriarch, his lifeless face frozen in an expression of guilt, anger, and bitter resignation. The other pile consisted of ancient cultivation scrolls, meticulously arranged. Even as the doors were thrown open, the youth remained unmoving, his head bowed low.

Yun stepped into the hall, his gaze never leaving the kneeling figure. 'I expected something different when I entered,' he said, his voice laced with curiosity. 'But I certainly didn't expect this.'

He reached down, lifting the severed head of Xuan Yi, studying the expression as if savoring the moment. 'You're more ruthless than I was at your age,' he remarked almost to himself. 'To kill your own father in cold blood... tut tut.'

Yun's men filed into the hall, casting wary glances at the youth. Could they have done the same in his position?

Yun spoke again, his voice commanding. 'Lift your head and tell us what happened.'

The youth lowered his head even further, his voice barely a whisper. 'I dare not look upon the Sword Celestial.'

Yun appreciated the display of humility and responded, 'Then keep your head down and speak.'

Li's voice steadied as he began. 'Reporting to the Sword Celestial: My father, Xuan Yi, in his madness, colluded with alien civilizations. He led me here to assist in his treachery, but my loyalty to the heavens would never allow such a betrayal. I played along until I found the moment to strike the villain from behind when his guard was down.'

Yun's tone turned playful, almost mocking. 'You managed to kill Patriarch Yi, a senior Qi practitioner, with a single sword strike from behind? Perhaps I should take you as a disciple if you possess such skill with the blade.'

The men around him chuckled softly, their eyes gleaming with amusement as they regarded the youth like an animal in a cage. But Li felt their gazes and steeled his resolve.

'I am but a lowly mortal,' Li continued, 'not even blessed with chi channels. But I was born with formation eyes, and I activated the deception formation on the sword to ensure the fatal blow.'

Yun raised an eyebrow, intrigued. 'Formation eyes? Look up, boy.'

Li slowly lifted his head, revealing his black irises set against the whites of his eyes. His hair, dark with streaks of gray and white, fell across his face.

Yun studied the youth's features, then glanced at the portrait hanging in the hall. 'Legend has it that the Xuan ancestor possessed large black eyes surrounded by pure white. These eyes allowed his formation skills to surpass those of his peers. In his youth, he studied formations so obsessively that his hair turned gray and white. He kept those strands as a reminder to his descendants of the hard work required to master formations.'

A heavy silence fell over the room as Yun's men observed the striking similarities between Li and the legendary ancestor.

Yun's voice dropped to a mysterious whisper. 'Boy, are those gray hairs a result of your formation studies?'

Seeing his opportunity, Li responded swiftly. 'They are, great Sword Celestial. The wicked patriarch forbade me from cultivating, fearing that my talents would bring disaster upon our family. But in the end, it was his own folly that brought us to ruin.'

Li knew he had to seize the moment. 'The scrolls beside me contain all of the Xuan family's formation techniques. I present them to you, my lord, in hopes of seeking redemption for our sins.'

Yun said nothing at first, his eyes locked on the youth before him. Li couldn't discern Yun's expression in the dim light, only the calculating gaze that weighed the potential benefits and risks of his next move.

Finally, Yun broke the silence. 'The end always justifies the means, hmm? What a wonderful saying.' With a swift motion, he struck Li on the back of the head, knocking him unconscious.

As darkness claimed him, Li knew he had survived—at least for now.