Night had descended upon the city of Great Radiant, casting a dark and foreboding veil over its streets. The city was eerily silent, the only sounds being the mournful whispers of the wind and the gentle sway of the trees.
At the peak of darkness, a group of tens of human silhouettes emerged on the rooftop of the highest pagoda. Clad entirely in black, they stood watchful and still, their presence seeming to command the night itself.
From their lofty vantage point, they gazed out over the city, their eyes gleaming with an unnerving intensity, as if they were harbingers of death, come to claim the city as their own.
Under the cover of darkness, unaware of the perils that lurked in the shadows, the city guards patrolled the streets with diligent vigilance.
Their presence was a reassuring beacon of safety for the citizens, who slumbered peacefully, oblivious to the bloodshed that would soon stain the night.
A youthful guard, fueled by zeal and dedication, marched through the deserted streets with purposeful strides. His long sword hung securely at his left waist, while his steel armor encased his body, a symbol of his unwavering commitment to protect the city.
Yet, fate had other plans, and this enthusiastic young guard was blissfully unaware that his life was about to take a drastic turn, and this would indeed be his final night on duty.
Pao Pao, a 26-year-old Foundation Realm cultivator, walked his beat with a sense of pride and contentment. His journey to becoming a cultivator had been largely driven by luck, dedication, and a dash of good fortune, as his natural talent was modest at best.
Despite his relatively low cultivation rank, Pao Pao had been serving as a city guard for nearly six years. He hailed from an ordinary mortal family with no cultivation background, making him the first cultivator in his family. This achievement alone was enough to fill him with pride and satisfaction.
Physically, Pao Pao stood at 5'3" with a muscular build, his features average and unremarkable. Yet, his unassuming appearance belied a strong sense of self-worth and a deep commitment to his duty as a city guard.
As Pao Pao strolled down the street, humming a gentle tune, he suddenly sensed the soft tread of footsteps approaching from behind. His instincts kicked in, and he swiftly halted his pace, spinning around to scan his surroundings.
However, there was no one in sight – only the deserted street and the walls he had just passed. Pao Pao let out a relieved sigh, inhaling deeply as he wiped the sweat from his forehead.
But his reprieve was short-lived. As he turned back around, a searing pain erupted in his throat. His hands instinctively flew to his neck, and his fingers closed around a thin steel string that had been wrapped around it, constricting his airway with deadly precision.
The steel string constricted Pao Pao's neck with merciless intent, tightening its grip with each labored breath. It was as if the string was designed to inflict maximum suffering, prolonging Pao Pao's agony before ultimately silencing him forever.
Pao Pao's struggles grew more frantic, his body thrashing about in a desperate bid for freedom. Yet, despite his valiant efforts, the string remained unyielding, its unbreakable fibers refusing to yield to his frantic struggles.
As the string continued to constrict, Pao Pao's eyes turned a deep, bloodshot red. His neck began to stretch, the skin taut and pale, as the string sliced deeper into his flesh.
A thin, flat line of blood began to ooze from the wound, a grim testament to Pao Pao's rapidly fading life force.
In an instant, the string seemed to tap into an otherworldly speed, its movement almost imperceptible as it struck with deadly precision. With a swift, merciless motion, the string severed Pao Pao's head from his body, leaving a trail of gore in its wake.
The sound of the string's deadly strike was almost simultaneous with the sight of Pao Pao's head rolling lifelessly across the ground, his body crumpling to the earth beside it. The suddenness and brutality of the attack left no room for screams or struggles, only an unsettling silence that followed the swift and merciless kill.
Meanwhile, a sinister phenomenon was unfolding across the city, as guards posted at various locations were being silently eliminated, their deaths as quiet as the void. The killers moved with ruthless efficiency, leaving no room for resistance or escape.
What was striking, however, was the eerie sense of enjoyment that seemed to emanate from the killers.
They appeared to be savoring the act of taking lives, rather than simply carrying out a task. If they had chosen to, they could have ended their victims' lives with a single, swift blow. Instead, they seemed to be reveling in the torture, prolonging the agony with calculated cruelty.
This was no mere killing spree – it was a twisted game of death, where the guards were mere pawns, and the killers, the merciless players.
***********
Sect Progenitor System ; The Slaughterhouse
***********
As dawn broke, a somber gathering of officials convened in the market, their faces grim and concerned. They had been summoned to investigate the bizarre and gruesome murders of the city guards, whose lifeless bodies lay scattered throughout the streets.
Young Master Yulong's brow furrowed in distress as he gazed upon the decapitated corpse of a young city guard. The guard's life had been brutally cut short, a victim of the previous night's carnage.
"Judging by the manner in which these guards were killed," Young Master Yulong said, his voice low and grave, "it appears that we are not dealing with ordinary hitmen. The precision, the stealth, and the sheer brutality of these killings suggest that the perpetrators are highly trained, elite assassins – likely part of a well-organized and ruthless organization."
"But who could they be?" Cao Man exclaimed, his voice seething with rage and indignation. "How dare they challenge our city's authority in such a brazen manner?"
Young Lady Qi placed a calming hand on Cao Man's arm, her expression somber.
"Please, Young Master Cao, compose yourself," She urged, her eyes scanning the gruesome scene before them.
As she gazed upon the lifeless body, she sensed the lingering presence of an intense, malevolent energy – an aura that could only have been imparted to the victim by the killer themselves.
Cao Man's anger, however, only continued to simmer.
"They dare to challenge us?" he growled, his teeth clenched in fury. "They have no fear of us. If they had even a shred of respect, they would not have committed such a heinous act."
His eyes blazed with a fierce desire for vengeance, his very being seeming to tremble with the urge to unleash his wrath upon the perpetrators.
"Could this be the work of an underworld organization, or perhaps an enemy force seeking to destabilize our city?" Young Lady Qi asked, her voice barely above a whisper, yet laced with a sense of foreboding.
Young Master Yulong's eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the crime scene.
"I don't think it's an organization," he said, his voice measured. "If it were, they would have likely killed the guards swiftly and efficiently. But the manner in which these guards were killed... it suggests a different motive altogether."
His voice trembled slightly as he spoke his next words, the gravity of his realization weighing heavily upon him. "It appears that these killings were not driven by revenge, nor by any personal agenda... but rather, they seem to have been committed for the sake of entertainment."
The implications of his words hung in the air like a miasma, casting a dark and sinister shadow over the assembled officials. The very thought that the killers had taken lives merely for their own twisted amusement was a profoundly disturbing one, and it sent a shiver down the spines of all who heard it.
A low, venerable voice cut through the air, "I recall a similar incident occurring a few years ago." The voice was old, yet vibrant with life, and it commanded the attention of everyone present.
As they turned to locate the speaker, they saw an elderly man walking towards them, clad in a flowing white robe and carrying a wooden cane. His eyes twinkled with a deep wisdom, and his very presence seemed to exude an aura of authority.
Young Master Yulong and the others hastened to greet the elderly man, cupping their fists in respect. "Greetings, Great Elder. We didn't know you would be leaving seclusion."
The Great Elder smiled warmly, shaking his head.
"No need for formalities, my young friends." He approached the lifeless body, his eyes clouding with a mixture of sadness and concern "In the past, a similar series of brutal killings took place over the course of seven nights. It ended as abruptly as it began, but I never thought I'd see the day when such horrors would repeat themselves."
Young Master Yulong's eyes widened in astonishment. "You mean to say that this has happened before?" His voice betrayed his turbulent emotions.
The Great Elder nodded gravely. "Yes, those who are aware of this dark history refer to it as the Seven Nights of Terror. Few have survived to tell the tale, and even fewer are aware of the true nature of those horrors."
Young Lady Qi's eyes sparkled with skepticism. "But how is it possible that we're unaware of such a significant event in our city's history?"
The Great Elder's expression turned wistful, and he offered a helpless smile. "We had to deal with the threat quietly, to prevent panic and chaos from spreading. The fewer people who knew, the better."
As the Great Elder's words hung in the air, the crowd stood in stunned silence, grappling with the enormity of the revelation.
Young Master Yulong's voice trembled with concern as he asked, "So, what should we do now?" His emotions were barely contained, threatening to spill over into chaos.
The Great Elder's smile was enigmatic, his eyes glinting with a deep wisdom.
"Nothing," he said, his voice low and mysterious. "We can only prepare ourselves for the inevitable chaos that is to come." With that, he turned and vanished into thin air, leaving the others stunned and bewildered.
Young Lady Qi's voice was soft and measured as she turned to Young Master Yulong.
"What do you make of the Great Elder's words?" she asked, her eyes searching for any glimmer of insight.
Young Master Yulong shook his head, feeling a sense of helplessness wash over him.
"I don't know," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. The weight of the Great Elder's words hung heavy in the air, leaving them all with a sense of foreboding and uncertainty.
Just as they were about to depart the scene, a guard came running towards them, his face flushed and his breathing labored.
"What's wrong?" Young Master Yulong asked, his eyes narrowing with concern as he took in the guard's frantic state. "Why are you in such a hurry?"
The guard struggled to catch his breath, his words tumbling out in a rush. "Young Master Yulong, please... hurry to the Southern Gate... of the market!"
Young Master Yulong's frown deepened, his expression mirroring the growing sense of unease that had settled over him. Young Lady Qi and Cao Man, too, exchanged worried glances, their faces pale with concern.
The guard's agitation was palpable, his eyes wild with fear.
"Please, hurry!" he urged, his voice cracking with desperation.
A sense of foreboding settled over Young Master Yulong, his heart heavy with a growing sense of dread. Beads of cold sweat began to form on his forehead, trickling down his neck as his hands started to tremble. His heartbeat racing, he turned and hastened towards the Southern Gate, his companions following closely behind.
The air was thick with tension as they rushed towards the gate, their senses on high alert for any sign of what horrors might await them.
*******
As they arrived at the Southern Gate, the group was met with a sight that made their blood run cold. The large wooden gate, once a proud entrance to the city, was now smeared with fresh blood, the crimson stains seeming to scream in horror.
The pillars supporting the gate were wrapped in a long, gruesome string, from which the severed heads of the city guards who had been on duty the previous night hung like macabre ornaments. The heads, still dripping blood from their decapitated necks, seemed to stare out with frozen expressions of terror.
Dozens of longswords, their blades stained a deep red, stood upright in the ground, their hilts pointing towards the sky like a ghastly forest of steel. The air was heavy with the stench of blood and death.
A palpable aura of malevolence hung over the scene, as if the very presence of death was draining the life force from the surrounding environment. The bodyless heads, devoid of any spark of life, seemed to display the sheer horror they had endured in their final moments.
The group stood frozen in shock, their minds struggling to comprehend the sheer brutality and depravity of the scene before them. The silence was oppressive, punctuated only by the soft dripping of blood from the severed heads.
Young Master Yulong's entire body began to convulse violently as his eyes locked onto a lifeless head hanging from the gate. The head, once full of life and vitality, now seemed empty and still, a mere shell of its former self.
As Young Master Yulong gazed upon the head, his world was turned upside down. His eyes bulged with a mixture of shock, horror, and despair, the vessels in his eyes bursting with blood. His veins pulsed wildly, as if they might rupture at any moment.
His mouth was dry, his saliva evaporating in an instant. His vision began to blur, his mind reeling in chaos. He was on the brink of madness, his sanity hanging by a thread.
Young Master Yulong's mind was a jumble of conflicting emotions, unable to comprehend the gruesome scene before him. He didn't want to believe what he was seeing, but the evidence was undeniable.
A single, anguished word escaped his lips, a cry of desperation, agony, and confusion that echoed through the air.
"FATHER!!"