A surge of power coursed through Bai Yu's veins as he flexed his newfound strength. Gone was the crippling pain, replaced by a potent energy that vibrated throughout his body. He channeled his senses inward, a surprised gasp escaping his lips. The Blood Condensation within him had undergone a dramatic shift. Instead of the wispy tendrils he possessed before, a dense, vibrant core pulsed in his dantian, its crimson hue an unmistakable sign of the Supreme Blood's formation. He had skyrocketed from the second stage of Blood Condensation to the fifth, a testament to the raw power of the True Chaos Scripture.
But the euphoria was short-lived. Time had become a blurred concept within the cave, his focus solely on absorbing the scripture. "How long have I been gone?" he muttered, his voice echoing eerily in the damp cave.
The answer awaited him on the surface. As he emerged from the water, a wave of nausea washed over him. The once vibrant beach was a scene of carnage. Blood stained the sand a rusty red, and bodies, both Stormwind soldiers and islanders, lay strewn everywhere. The normally cheerful shouts of seagulls were replaced by an unsettling silence broken only by the buzzing of flies. The metallic tang of blood hung heavy in the air, a macabre blanket over the scene.
Bai Yu's heart hammered in his chest as he stepped onto the blood-soaked sand. Faces, some familiar, some not, stared sightlessly at the sky. A wave of despair threatened to engulf him, but he steeled himself. He had to know what happened, if the Stormwind attackers were defeated, or if his home had fallen.
He walked through the carnage, each step a grim pilgrimage. He recognized a few faces – villagers, shopkeepers, even some of the island's younger cultivators, their dreams extinguished before they could truly bloom. Then, his eyes landed on a particularly gruesome sight. A heavily built man, limbs severed at grotesque angles, lay face down in the sand. It was Leng Ao, the Patriarch of the Leng Clan, one of the island's five strongest cultivators, a man who rivaled his own father in power. Even a Xiantian expert like him… fallen.
The realization hit him like a physical blow. If even Xiantian cultivators had fallen, the situation must be dire. But who? Who could have inflicted such a devastating defeat? Had the Stormwind soldiers called upon reinforcements? Or was there another force at play? Bai Yu pushed himself forward. He navigated the battlefield, his stomach churning with each new corpse he encountered. One thought echoed in his mind: the capital city. That's where his clan resided, where his family was.
As he ran through the forest, the scent of smoke grew stronger. Reaching a hilltop, he gasped. The once bustling capital city was now a smoldering ruin. Flames licked at buildings, and smoke billowed into the sky, painting the scene in a ghastly grey. A sickening feeling of dread settled in his gut. He had arrived too late. But a shred of hope remained. Perhaps his family had managed to escape the inferno.