"What did you just say?" Nie Feng's movements froze mid-swing. He lowered his heavy sword, his voice chillingly calm as he turned to face Senior Brother Zhang.
"What did I say?" Zhang sneered. "I said Elder Xiaoyao must have been blind to bring you into the sect. What a disgrace—"
Before Zhang could finish, a sudden gust of wind surged toward him, carrying with it an overwhelming sense of malice. It was sharp and deadly, and it made Zhang's face pale as he instinctively stepped back.
"Nie Feng! Do you dare raise your hand against me?" Zhang shouted, his voice betraying a note of fear.
At that moment, Nie Feng's entire being radiated an intense killing intent, suffocating and bone-chilling. Even Zhang's companions—Junior Sister Dou and another male disciple—staggered back, their faces drained of color.
A History of Pain
Nie Feng's rage was not born of mere words. As a child, his entire village had been massacred by rogue cultivators. He had been forced to watch helplessly as his family and friends were butchered before his eyes. The trauma had awakened fragments of memories from a past life, but even then, he had been powerless, trapped in despair. The perpetrators had left behind a scar that cut deeper than any wound—the name Tianming Sect, burned into his soul.
It was Elder Xiaoyao of the Tianjian Sect who had rescued Nie Feng from the brink of death, bringing him to safety and offering him a chance at a new life. For that, Nie Feng owed the elder a debt he could never repay. Hearing anyone insult his savior was a line he could not allow to be crossed.
Years of enduring ridicule within the sect had forged Nie Feng into someone his peers could not comprehend. The darkness in his heart, born from pain and despair, had hardened into a potent killing intent that terrified even the most seasoned disciples. It was this very intensity that had made him an outcast, banned from advancing to the central sect on Shenyue Peak.
The Unleashed Fury
"I don't just dare to raise my hand," Nie Feng growled, gripping his sword tightly. "I dare to kill you!"
With those words, Nie Feng lunged at Zhang, his strikes fierce and relentless. Though Zhang had reached the third level of the Body Refining Realm, far exceeding Nie Feng's own strength, he found himself completely overwhelmed by the latter's sheer bloodlust. Zhang's hands trembled as he fumbled to draw his sword, forced to retreat under the weight of Nie Feng's unrelenting assault.
"Nie Feng, you're asking for death!" another male disciple shouted, finally snapping out of his stupor. Drawing his sword, he charged at Nie Feng, his blade glowing with a faint white aura. Their weapons clashed violently, and the force of the impact sent Nie Feng crashing into a jade bamboo tree.
"You worthless trash," Zhang spat, his confidence returning. "How dare you attack me? I'll kill you myself!" He unsheathed his own sword and took a menacing step forward, only to freeze in place as a wave of killing intent surged from Nie Feng, stopping him in his tracks.
The Elder Appears
"Ha! Such magnificent killing intent—it's been years since I've seen such potential."
The unexpected voice rang out, deep and hearty yet tinged with an ancient weariness. From the bamboo grove emerged a hunched figure, an elderly man dressed in a tattered gray robe stained with oil and grime. His unkempt hair was tied loosely behind him, and his pale, gaunt face was marred with deep wrinkles. Despite his frail appearance, there was a strange vitality to his smooth hands, a stark contrast that made him all the more unsettling.
Nie Feng felt his breath hitch. Though the elder stood motionless, he exuded an aura of danger so intense that it felt as if a sharp blade hung over Nie Feng's neck. The air around him seemed to thrum with an unspoken warning, heavy with the scent of blood and death.
"Who are you, and why are you here?" Zhang demanded, his voice trembling with false bravado. "This is the base of Shenyue Peak—outsiders are forbidden to approach!"
"Leave," the elder said simply.
With a flick of his sleeve, Zhang was sent flying backward, crashing into the bamboo with the force of a cannonball. His two companions collapsed to the ground in terror, their legs giving out beneath them.
"Pay attention, boy," the elder said to Nie Feng, his tone casual. "This is how you wield killing intent."
Straightening his hunched back slightly, the elder released a tidal wave of murderous aura. It was unlike anything Nie Feng had ever felt—a suffocating, overwhelming force that spread out like a flood, rendering Zhang's two companions unconscious on the spot.
An Unorthodox Offer
"Who... are you?" Nie Feng gasped, struggling to remain standing against the onslaught of the elder's killing intent.
The elder's lips curled into a faint smile. "Ah, your resilience is impressive. My eyes did not deceive me—you're a rare talent. Your killing intent is exceptional, perfectly suited for my foundational techniques."
He paused, his tone turning contemplative. "You've been unable to advance in cultivation for years, haven't you? The problem lies in your heart. Tianjian Sect's foundational techniques demand serenity and balance—traits that are completely at odds with your nature. But my techniques are different. They thrive on killing intent. The stronger your bloodlust, the faster you will progress. Swear loyalty to me, and I will teach you."
Nie Feng's heart pounded at the elder's words. For a moment, he was tempted. The promise of finally advancing in cultivation, of proving himself after years of ridicule, was almost too good to resist.
But then he clenched his fists, his resolve hardening. "Thank you for your offer, senior," he said through gritted teeth. "But I am a disciple of Tianjian Sect. I will not abandon my sect, no matter how difficult the path may be. I will overcome these obstacles with sheer willpower."
The elder's eyes gleamed with amusement. "Interesting," he murmured. "Very well. Let us see if your resolve is as strong as you claim."
As the elder's killing intent receded, Nie Feng stood tall, his determination shining brighter than ever.