"You seem lost in thought, Elder Mira. Is it that boy again?" The question came from a woman whose demeanor blended curiosity with genuine concern. Both women possessed striking beauty, yet a discerning eye would easily conclude that Elder Mira surpassed her companion in allure. Her graceful figure exuded a natural elegance that seemed to effortlessly command attention, even in the simplest attire of the sect's fairy dress code.
It was said among the disciples that certain individuals possessed a magnetic quality, an undeniable charisma that transcended mere physical appearance. Elder Mira epitomized this sentiment; her presence drew gazes and whispers wherever she went, a testament to her inner strength and captivating charm.
With a faint smile, Elder Mira turned to her companion, her expression a blend of introspection and curiosity. "Yes, it's him again," she admitted softly. "And I hesitate to call him a boy anymore. He's a man now. He's been a man longer than most at his age. If only he had been born with more talent, I believe he would have already surpassed our wildest expectations, Madison," Elder Mira added, her gaze lingering on a particular spot in the sect where a courtyard appeared silent and ordinary.
"That man is stubborn, Elder Mira. And crazy. I fear he'll die cultivating in that room, stuck at the second stage of the Qi Gathering Realm. But as you say, if he had our cultivation talent, he would undoubtedly be far ahead of us. I believe that too," Madison nodded solemnly. She had been the one spying on the man for Elder Mira, and even she was awestruck by his relentless spirit.
One should know that the man had persevered in his daily cultivation for a grueling 20 years, his unwavering dedication a testament to his singular resolve. Despite remaining stuck at the 2nd stage of the Qi Gathering Realm throughout all those years, he showed no signs of disheartenment. On the contrary, his commitment to his cultivation routine only intensified with each passing day.
While those who had begun their cultivation journey alongside him had long ascended to the ranks of inner disciples, and some even further to become core disciples, he remained steadfast at his current stage. It was a journey marked by perseverance against all odds, a relentless pursuit of mastery that defied conventional expectations.
Others in the sect whispered about his steadfastness, marveling at his unyielding spirit. Many would have faltered under the weight of such prolonged stagnation, but not him. His resilience seemed woven from a fabric of determination that transcended mere talent or circumstance.
Yet, paradoxically, the man remained both a subject of ridicule and awe. This dual perception was undeniable among the sect members. Everyone with a discerning mind understood that he seemed destined to spend his life reaching for the stars while appearing insignificant as an ant beneath the heavens' gaze. It would seem futile in the end, yet he was destined to become a legend in the sect.
"BANG!" The tranquility of the sect shattered with a deafening sound that echoed through the heavens. It was followed by a cascade of golden lotus petals raining down across the entire sect, each petal shimmering with a faint golden glow as they floated gently to the ground.
"Not good. The Golden Lotus Shield Formation has been breached!" bellowed one elder, his voice carrying a tone of urgency as he swiftly flew towards the source of the disturbance. His fellow elders followed suit, their expressions a mix of concern and disbelief at the unprecedented breach.
As they approached the heart of the sect, their eyes widened in astonishment. Before them hovered a massive ancient beast in the form of an elder dragon, its scales gleaming with an otherworldly sheen.
The dragon was surrounded by a formidable array of cultivation boats, each manned by skilled practitioners exuding a palpable aura of power.
At the dragon's back sat a lone figure—a cultivator with long, white hair cascading down his shoulders, and a pentagram tattooed prominently on his forehead. His presence commanded attention, his eyes blazing with an intensity that spoke of years of cultivation and unwavering determination. It was clear at a glance that he was the orchestrator of this audacious attack.
One of the elders gritted his teeth, feeling the weight of the spiritual pressure emanating from the mysterious cultivator. It surpassed even that of the elder dragon itself, marking him as a formidable adversary. Beside him, another sect elder murmured in disbelief, "Such power… who is this man?"
"He's no ordinary cultivator," replied an elder grimly, his gaze never leaving the intruder. "Prepare yourselves. This is no mere skirmish. This is war."
The air crackled with tension as the sect elders and disciples braced themselves for the impending confrontation. The once serene surroundings of the sect now echoed with the sounds of preparation and resolve, as they awaited the inevitable clash with this enigmatic foe and his formidable allies. As everyone seemed at a stalemate, the man atop the dragon finally spoke his piece.
"Surrender, or you will be forced to. It matters little to me what you choose," said the man with white hair, his voice carrying across the entire sect. In response, disciples scrambled throughout the sect, rallying to defend against the obvious invasion.
The sect elders exchanged uncertain glances, unsure of their next move. Before they could decide, a voice familiar to many echoed through the air—a voice unheard for a thousand years.
"What does a cultivator from the Azure Dragon Continent seek from our Golden Lotus Sect?" A woman in a flowing purple fairy dress appeared, descending gracefully down a staircase of golden lotuses. Though her steps seemed unhurried, she moved with an otherworldly speed, leaving only afterimages in her wake as she ascended to meet the elder dragon and its armies of cultivators in the sky.
The people with lower cultivation bases attempted to meet her gaze but found themselves unable to sustain eye contact, succumbing to severe headaches if they tried. Nevertheless, those who managed to steal a glance were struck with awe at her innate beauty. Never before had they beheld a woman as stunning as their sect master.
The sect master possessed a beauty that seemed almost ethereal, captivating all who beheld her with a mesmerizing allure. Her features were delicate yet defined, framed by cascades of silky, lavender-hued hair that flowed like ribbons of moonlight. Her eyes, pools of deep amethyst, held a serene wisdom that spoke of millennia of cultivation and inner strength.
Her complexion was porcelain smooth, untouched by the passage of time, radiating a gentle luminescence that seemed to emanate from within. Each movement she made was graceful and deliberate, as if she moved in harmony with the natural rhythms of the world around her.
Adorned in a flowing robe of shimmering purple silk embroidered with intricate patterns of golden lotuses, she exuded an aura of regality and power. Around her neck hung a pendant of silver crystal, catching the light and casting prisms of color that danced across her serene countenance.
Yet, it was not just her physical appearance that commanded reverence; it was the air of quiet authority and inner peace that surrounded her, hinting at depths of knowledge and experience beyond mortal comprehension. In her presence, even the most seasoned cultivators felt a stirring of respect and admiration, recognizing her as not just a leader, but a beacon of hope and strength for their sect.
"I am honored to meet the legendary Daoist Golden Lotus. Even I am in awe of your absolute power and prestige. Still, this nameless junior will have free rein over your sect once this night is done," declared the man seated atop the dragon, his voice carrying an air of confident challenge. With those words, he summoned an unassuming miniature pagoda into his hands, an artifact of seemingly ordinary appearance, yet pulsing with latent power.
"Open!" he commanded, and in an instant, the small pagoda expanded rapidly, its structure unfolding like intricate origami. Its ethereal glow intensified as it enveloped the entirety of the Golden Lotus Sect, forming a barrier that shimmered with protective runes and symbols.
Daoist Golden Lotus frowned, her brow furrowing in both frustration and concern. She raised her hand, intending to dispel the encroaching barrier with a burst of her formidable spiritual energy. However, as she gathered her qi, a wave of overwhelming spiritual pressure crashed down upon her and the other elders. It was as if the very air around them had turned dense and suffocating, resisting their efforts to move or counteract.
The elders, each a master in their own right, attempted to resist the pressure. Yet, despite their combined strength, they found themselves faltering. Slowly, inexorably, their forms sank to their knees in a graceful yet involuntary descent towards the ground. The younger disciples watched in stunned silence, their hearts heavy with disbelief at the sight of their revered elders brought to their knees by an unseen force.
"BANG!" The sound echoed through the air, resonating with a finality that sent shivers down the spine of every witness. One by one, the elders collapsed, their bodies hitting the ground with an impact that seemed to reverberate through the very earth beneath them. The once-proud leaders of the sect now lay prone, their faces etched with a mixture of determination and frustration.
The man with white hair on the dragon's back smirked triumphantly, his gaze sweeping over the fallen elders and disciples alike. "You see, Daoist Golden Lotus," he taunted, his voice cutting through the tense silence. "Strength alone cannot guarantee victory. Sometimes, strategy and timing are more powerful than any cultivation technique. Above all, treasures beyond mortal comprehension are also crucial," remarked the man on the dragon's back, his tone laced with confident assertion.
Daoist Golden Lotus clenched her fists, her eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and determination. She attempted to harness all the dao masteries at her disposal, but they seemed to slip through her grasp like elusive wisps of smoke. Even her treasured artifacts, including the pendant at her neck, momentarily dazzled everyone with their brilliance before succumbing to a visible weakening, their power rapidly diminishing.
"Somehow, something is draining all the spiritual essence from the sect," remarked Elder Benjamin, his voice strained yet resolute as he rose from where he had fallen. An inner disciple hurried to assist him, concern etched on their face. It was then that the disciples around them realized they were unaffected by the pagoda's influence, though this offered little solace in the face of an elder dragon looming in the sky.
Daoist Golden Lotus glanced around, her mind racing with possibilities. The sect's defensive barriers were compromised, and their spiritual reservoirs were rapidly depleting. The situation was dire, their enemies holding the upper hand with strategic control and potent artifacts. Yet, amidst the chaos and uncertainty, a steely resolve settled within her.
"We cannot falter," she declared, her voice carrying across the sect with unwavering conviction. "Even in the face of overwhelming odds, we must stand together and protect what is ours." Daoist Golden Lotus struggled to rise, but even that was a futile attempt. The unseen force devouring her essence grew stronger by the moment. In a matter of breaths, she lacked the strength even to move a finger.
"SECT MASTER!" an elder screamed, but soon they, too, succumbed to the relentless draining force. They lay helpless on the ground, awaiting the victor's decision.
"Well, that was easy. This immortal pagoda works wonders!" The white-haired man laughed, surveying the scene of his conquest with smug satisfaction. He hadn't needed to exert much effort to achieve his goal. Glancing at the sect master and a few exceptionally beautiful elder women, he licked his lips in anticipation of what was to come. His orders prohibited killing, but they said nothing about other indulgences. He intended to enjoy the spoils and share them generously with his generals.
As the sect members lay subdued and helpless, the atmosphere thickened with defeat and despair. The disciples, once full of hope and determination, now watched in helpless anguish as their leaders were subjected to the whims of their captors. The elder dragon circled above, a silent sentinel of their defeat, casting a shadow over the sect that seemed to deepen with each passing moment.
Meanwhile, Daoist Golden Lotus fought to maintain her composure despite her weakened state. Her mind raced, seeking any glimmer of hope or strategy that might turn the tide. She knew that surrender was not an option, not for her and not for the sect she had sworn to protect with her life.
Still, there was truly nothing she could do when the very powers she had cultivated over thousands of years seemed distant and beyond her grasp in that moment. Helpless, she could only blink her eyes, watching as events unfolded around her, unable to intervene.
"To the ant disciples below, kneel and await to be processed. You will all serve as fresh new blood to my Azure Dragon Continent, and the Azure Dragon Emperor shall unite this whole world under his feet," the white-haired man instructed, his voice carrying across the sect with chilling authority.
Silence gripped the disciples as they exchanged uncertain glances, unsure of their next move. It was only a matter of time before the first among them, sensing the futility of resistance, chose to kneel.
"THUD!" echoed the sound of one disciple's knee touching the sacred grounds of the sect.
"THUD!" followed by another.
"THUD!" and another, until a wave of kneeling figures spread like a somber tide across the once-proud sect. In mere moments, thousands had accepted their fate, acknowledging defeat in the face of overwhelming force. If their revered elders and powerful sect master could not prevail against these invaders, what hope did they, mere disciples, have?
As minutes passed, the sect grounds became a sea of bowed heads and kneeling forms, a poignant tableau of surrender. Amidst this scene, a lone voice pierced the solemn air.
"Hmmm… I suppose I'll prove everyone wrong when I don't die cultivating alone in my room or of old age," a man's voice murmured defiantly, carrying through the ocean of disciples and reaching the ears of elders and sect master alike.
Elder Mira could scarcely believe her ears. She strained to use her spiritual senses, feeling as if she were trying to move mountains with the force of her will alone. Despite the overwhelming struggle, she succeeded, and her mind's eye conjured an image of a handsome man, smiling defiantly amidst a sea of cultivators.