"Gideon! Stop this lunacy at once! Stand down and kneel!" A strong voice rang out, attempting to persuade the lone, defiant man amidst a sea of capitulating cultivators. The man's tone was firm, but it carried an edge of desperation, knowing the hopelessness of the situation.
Gideon turned to face the one who shouted, his eyes blazing with an unyielding fire. "Thank you, brother Ethan. But I just can't believe that my mother would be proud of me if I were to do that. I, Gideon Blackwood, will not kneel to anyone!" His roar was powerful and brave, reverberating through the air and reaching the invaders above.
The sight of Gideon standing alone, defying the overwhelming odds, was almost comical in its audacity. He possessed neither advanced techniques nor precious artifacts that could enable him to fight those in the sky. As a mere 2nd stage of the Qi Gathering Realm cultivator, all he had was a stronger body and a set of sword techniques his mother had personally taught him. Those techniques were simple, forged in love and dedication, a stark contrast to the sophisticated methods of these invaders.
Gideon took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the sword in his hand. It was a boy's sword, light and short, a relic of his younger years. It no longer suited him, its size a mockery of the man he had become. Anyone else might have found this a reason to laugh and ridicule, but the sect disciples could do nothing but cry at the folly and bravery of Gideon.
His eyes scanned the sky, locking onto the white-haired man atop the elder dragon. "Come at me," he challenged, his voice steady and unwavering. He knew his chances were slim, but he would rather die standing than live on his knees.
A murmur of disbelief and admiration spread through the disciples. Many of them were torn between fear and the spark of hope that Gideon's defiance ignited within them. His courage reminded them of the spirit of the sect, of the teachings that had shaped them into who they were.
Gideon tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, feeling the familiar warmth of the handle, the memories of his training flooding back. His mother's voice echoed in his mind, guiding him, strengthening his resolve. He could almost see her smile, feel her presence beside him, urging him to be brave.
The invaders above seemed momentarily taken aback by his defiance. The white-haired man laughed, a cold, mocking sound that cut through the tension. "What a foolish display. Do you truly believe you can stand against me with that toy of yours?"
Gideon raised his chin, his eyes never leaving the man. "I may be foolish, but I am not afraid. This sword may be small, but it carries the weight of my convictions. And those are unbreakable."
The elder dragon roared, a sound that shook the very ground beneath them, but Gideon stood firm. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat a testament to his unyielding spirit. He knew that this might be his last stand, but he was ready to face whatever came next.
Around him, the sect disciples watched in awe and sorrow. Gideon's stand was both an inspiration and a tragedy, a reminder of the strength that lay within them all, even in the face of insurmountable odds. They saw in him a reflection of their own dreams, their own desires to protect their home and honor the legacy of the Golden Lotus Sect.
But that dream has now shattered since they all chose to kneel down and bend over to the whims of these invaders. Their want for self-preservation was as strong and high as the heavens itself. The sea of kneeling disciples was a stark contrast to the lone figure of Gideon, standing resolutely with his sword in hand, defiance etched into every line of his face.
"I admire your courage, boy. I might not be a match for your sect master, Daoist Golden Lotus, but I won't be a coward and deny the wish of a foolish boy like you." The white-haired man's voice echoed through the silent sect, filled with a chilling calm. He leaped from the dragon's back, descending gracefully to the ground as if he were a feather on the wind.
The ground seemed to pulse with his landing, a subtle ripple of power that made the kneeling disciples shiver. His presence was overwhelming, a palpable aura of dominance and strength. He stood tall, his white hair flowing like silver threads in the breeze, his eyes cold and unyielding.
"I am Darius Stone, sect master of the Five Elements Sect," he introduced himself, his voice carrying a weight of authority that demanded attention. He did not bother with his Daoist name, for he saw this as a trivial match. His gaze swept over the kneeling cultivators, filled with a mix of disdain and amusement.
Spotting an ordinary sword among the fallen weapons, he picked it up. He swung the sword a couple of times, each movement causing the air to crackle with energy. The disciples flinched with each swing, the sound reverberating like thunder in their ears. It was a stark reminder of the vast chasm of power that separated them from this intruder.
"It's not often I get to indulge in such folly," Darius continued, a smirk playing on his lips. "But since you've chosen to stand against me, I will grant you the honor of a duel. Prepare yourself, boy, for this will be your last stand."
Gideon's grip tightened on his sword, his resolve hardening. He knew the odds were insurmountable, but he couldn't back down now. Not when so many eyes were upon him, and not when his own pride and honor were at stake.
The air was thick with tension as the two faced each other, one an unyielding titan of power, the other a lone, defiant warrior. The fate of the sect seemed to hang in the balance, teetering on the edge of an inevitable clash.
"Death!" Gideon roared, as if inviting death itself. He knew this would be the inevitable end of his actions, but he accepted such a fate. He had done everything to the best of his abilities and had few regrets. He merely wished to see his mother once more before his end, but alas, that was a wish he could not fulfill at this point in time.
"SLASH!" Gideon's swing was perfect, cutting through the air and seemingly slicing through Darius's body. But a breath later, the afterimage faded, revealing the real Darius standing unharmed. He was so close to Gideon that he could have easily slapped him.
"Oh? I didn't perfectly control my speed. Forgive me, boy. I don't usually fight with weak ants like you," Darius laughed, clearly amused by the circumstances. This was truly a new experience for him.
"Again." Darius invited, and so Gideon attacked with a flurry of sword strikes. This time, Darius moved like a normal mortal, his movements easily tracked by Gideon. Yet, Darius dodged each strike with precision, letting the blade pass within an inch of his skin. It seemed as if the two of them were engaged in a masterfully orchestrated dance.
Gideon's strikes grew more desperate and intense, each one fueled by a mix of rage and determination. His muscles burned, his breath came in ragged gasps, but he refused to give in. He knew he was outmatched, but his spirit was unbroken. Every swing of his sword was a testament to his unyielding resolve.
Darius, on the other hand, seemed to be toying with him. He moved with an effortless grace, his expression one of detached amusement. To him, this was nothing more than a game, a brief distraction from the monotony of his usual battles.
"Is this all you've got?" Darius taunted, dodging another strike. "Come on, boy. Show me something worth my time."
Gideon's vision blurred with sweat and exhaustion, but he pressed on. Time seemed to stand still during the battle, but in truth, nearly three hours had passed since they had begun. He refused to let Darius's mockery break his spirit. He would fight until his last breath, if only to prove that he was not as weak as everyone believed.
With a final, desperate surge of energy, Gideon launched himself at Darius, putting everything he had into one last strike. The force of his attack was impressive, but Darius met it with a casual flick of his borrowed sword, deflecting the blow effortlessly.
"Enough," Darius said, his voice suddenly cold. In a flash, he moved, his speed a blur to Gideon's tired eyes. The next thing Gideon knew, he was on the ground, his sword knocked from his grasp, Darius's foot pressing down on his chest.
"You fought well for a mere ant," Darius said, his smirk returning. "But in the end, strength and skill will always prevail."
Gideon struggled to breathe under the pressure, but he managed to meet Darius's gaze with defiance. "I... will never... kneel," he gasped out.
Darius's expression softened slightly, almost as if he were impressed by Gideon's spirit. "Very well," he said, stepping back. "You've earned a warrior's death, at least."
Gideon closed his eyes, accepting his fate. He had fought with everything he had, and though he had not won, he had not surrendered either. In his heart, he felt a sense of peace.
Gideon released a deep breath and stood up, his legs trembling but his resolve unwavering. He opened his eyes again and looked at Darius with a defiant smile on his handsome face. Words held no meaning anymore, not for him at least. He locked eyes with his killer, the fire in his gaze undiminished.
"Be less brave and wiser in your next life, boy. There are battles that should not be fought," Darius imparted, a fleeting glimmer of respect in his eyes. With those final words, he raised his sword and delivered the last, fatal strike. A sword struck straight to the heart.
The world seemed to hold its breath. And in that moment, Gideon knew that his spirit would live on, unbroken and defiant, even in death. At least that was what he was thinking at the moment.
"Not good." Darius felt a sudden foreboding and immediately retreated in panic.
"DRIP!" Still, blood painted the ground for the first time since the invasion started. One severed arm was carried by another as if a trophy in war.
"Who are you?" Darius trembled as he asked, feeling fear grip his heart. There was an immense aura emanating from his earlier opponent, a spiritual pressure he couldn't comprehend. It was suffocating, making even the Azure Dragon Emperor seem like a child in comparison.
The figure before him stood tall and imposing, the same man he had fought earlier but vastly different. Gideon's presence was overwhelming, his gaze piercing through Darius like a blade. There was a red blood aura around his form that seemed to scale through the heavens and beyond—it was unlike anything Darius had seen in his long life!
The air crackled with tension as Darius tried to comprehend the transformation before him. Gideon, once a mere cultivator with a defiant spirit, now exuded an aura of unimaginable power. His eyes, once filled with determination, now held a depth of ancient wisdom and boundless strength.
"You…" Darius's voice faltered, his mind racing to grasp the reality of what stood before him. Gideon's presence seemed to warp the very fabric of existence, a testament to his newfound power.
Gideon's lips curled into a knowing smile, his expression serene yet charged with an intensity that sent shivers down Darius's spine. The red aura around him pulsed with raw energy, casting an eerie glow that illuminated the battlefield.
"I am no longer the boy you faced," Gideon spoke, his voice resonating with a timbre that echoed with ancient echoes. "As for my name, I don't think that a simple soul carrying a corpse around like you deserves to know that."
Darius took a step back, his sword trembling in his grip. He could feel the weight of Gideon's gaze bearing down on him, a silent challenge that spoke volumes of the stakes at hand.
"Impossible…" Darius muttered, disbelief mingling with fear in his voice. He had faced countless opponents in his long life, but none had ever radiated such overwhelming power.
Gideon raised his hand, and the air around them seemed to hum with anticipation. The red aura intensified, swirling around him like a tempest unleashed. Every movement he made reverberated with the force of a tidal wave, threatening to engulf everything in its path. The severed arm dissolved into a blood mist, which was absorbed by the gaping wound at Gideon's heart. In an instant, the wound closed and healed, leaving no trace of injury behind. Meanwhile, Darius attempted to heal the wound on his missing arm, only to discover with horror that it did not regenerate anew.
"This…" Darius's voice trembled with realization. As a Nascent Soul realm cultivator, he had always possessed the ability to regenerate lost limbs effortlessly. Now, faced with the impossibility of this basic feat, fear gnawed at the edges of his mind.
Gideon stood before him, the red aura swirling around him like a shield of invulnerability. His eyes gleamed with a power that defied understanding, a testament to the transformation he had undergone.
"You see now," Gideon's voice carried a hint of solemnity. "There are realms of power beyond your comprehension."
"Rubbish! You're simply an evil cultivator! The plague of this world!" Darius roared, his words echoing across the battlefield with righteous indignation. He glanced around and saw that the immortal pagoda was still siphoning off spiritual essence from the surroundings. It gathered an impressive amount of Qi from the evil man before him, yet it was akin to drawing a drop of water from an infinite ocean of absolute strength. The evil man seemed unaffected, showing no concern for the immortal pagoda's efforts—a stark contrast, like a man oblivious to an ant scurrying at his feet.
"Demon, devil, evil cultivator. Such words mean nothing in this world. There is only power," the entity inhabiting Gideon's body declared, its voice carrying a chilling certainty that echoed across the battlefield. With a deep, long breath, it savored the simple luxuries of existence before turning its piercing gaze back to Darius.
"Prepare yourself," Gideon's voice echoed, carrying a solemn warning. "This circus ends now."
"Wait! There should be something that you w..." Darius, caught between disbelief and mounting dread, attempted to plead for mercy or reason, but his words fell on deaf ears. As he took a hesitant step back, his senses heightened, trying desperately to discern any hint of Gideon's next move. In a mere three breaths, reality twisted and spun around him, a dizzying whirlwind that left him disoriented and vulnerable.
When the world settled, Darius found himself staring at his own headless body, frozen in a futile attempt to evade Gideon's swift strike. The scene was a macabre tableau, a testament to the merciless efficiency of his opponent.
But the horror did not end there. Darius's body and soul dissolved into a mist of blood, the crimson essence drawn irresistibly toward Gideon's heart. The disciples of the sect, witnessing this gruesome spectacle, were struck silent with shock and fear. They had never imagined such a swift and brutal end to the leader of this invasion.
"GULP!" Every disciple audibly gulped, their hearts heavy with the grim realization of the power that now stood before them. The aura of invincibility surrounding Gideon was palpable, a chilling reminder that their world had irrevocably changed.
As Gideon stood amidst the aftermath, the crimson aura pulsing with an eerie glow, he surveyed the battlefield with a mixture of amusement and dark humor. His gaze shifted upward to where the formidable army had once threatened the sect's gates, now still as a dead cunt. Everything just happened too fast for them to react in time.
"BANG!" The elder dragon, once a symbol of power and dominance, comically landed headfirst, driven by its survival instincts to obey a new master without question. Its colossal form trembled under the weight of Gideon's presence, an acknowledgment of the overwhelming force now at play.
Cultivators on their flying boats, sensing the impending doom, desperately attempted to escape the grip of Gideon's newfound power.
"BOOM!" An irresistible force surged forth from Gideon, a gravitational pull that drew in everything around him. The air crackled with energy as the armies and their vessels were enveloped by a torrent of blood, their bodies and equipment crushed and consumed.
"RUN AWAY!" The panicked cries of the retreating cultivators echoed futilely across the once-peaceful sect grounds. But their attempts to flee were in vain, for each one met the same fate—a swift and gruesome end as they were devoured by the insatiable maw of the immortal demon within Gideon.
"DING!" Even the immortal pagoda, a formidable treasure that had covered the entire sect with its debilitating effect, crumbled and dissolved into nothingness. Its potent spiritual essence was absorbed greedily by Gideon, fueling his insatiable hunger for power and dominance.
As the dust settled and the echoes of battle faded, Gideon stood amidst a scene of absolute mess. The sect laid in ruins where the elder dragon landed, its defenders vanquished, and its once-proud invasion attempt reduced to mere sustenance for the unstoppable force that now resided within him. His transformation from a mere cultivator to a harbinger of destruction was complete, leaving only a chilling silence in the wake of his ascension to power.
But this was merely from the perspective of the audience.
"Who was that?" The original Gideon asked in shock, standing before a trembling dragon, while fear filled the eyes of everyone around him.