In the face of the inexorable will of the higher echelons, Milo Ming's desperate struggles proved but a futile exercise in defiance.
With his father's life extinguished and his master felled by the dread might of the Emperor's Pen, he found himself bereft of any hope of succor.
Those who had once borne the brunt of Milo Ming's tyrannical whims now nursed a simmering desire for vengeance. Had it not been for Tyrone Zhou's formidable presence and his possession of the immortal weapon, the mantle of retribution would surely have fallen upon another's shoulders.
Milo Ming was dragged forth, his cries and lamentations echoing through the air, a pitiable spectacle. Alongside him, the entire Ming clan, bound by the ties of blood, was summarily rounded up.
One hundred and eighty hapless souls of the Ming family were cast upon the square of the Heavenly Dao Sect, a tableau of woe and despair.
Cries of anguish, pleas for mercy, expressions of hopelessness and bitter resentment filled the air, a cacophony of human suffering.
The elders, disciples, and the august Supreme Elder of the Heavenly Dao Sect stood as silent witnesses, their faces masks of impassivity, their tongues cleaved to the roofs of their mouths.
At the sight of this, Milo Ming's heart plummeted into the depths of despair, a cold and desolate void.
"My father, erstwhile leader of the Heavenly Dao Sect, though perhaps not a paragon of virtue in his service to the sect, was nonetheless a diligent and self-disciplined soul who had sacrificed much in its name," Milo Ming proclaimed, his voice choked with grief, his eyes scanning the assembled throng as he knelt upon the unforgiving ground, tears streaming unchecked down his cheeks.
For the first time, a glimmer of genuine remorse flickered within his breast.
"I do not beseech you all to save my wretched self. All I ask is that the sect show mercy and permit the Ming family to sire an heir, to leave a slender thread of hope for our lineage," Milo Ming sobbed, his words a desperate plea.
Within the confines of the Heavenly Dao Sect, an eerie silence reigned. In the shadow of the Emperor's Pen, not a soul dared to break the stillness.
"Your empty words are powerless to alter the course of this day's events," Tyrone Zhou sneered, his voice laced with scorn. He was in no haste to dispatch Milo Ming, for he relished the prospect of exacting a slow and agonizing vengeance.
"I do not delude myself into thinking that I can avert my fate. I am well aware that my doom is sealed. In days past, I reveled in the false security of my father and master's authority, becoming a byword for arrogance and cruelty. The catalogue of my sins is long and damning. I deserve nothing less than death," Milo Ming laughed bitterly, his confession a belated admission of guilt.
"Truly, a dying man's words often carry a kernel of truth," Tyrone Zhou observed, his tone edged with sarcasm.
"Absurd, overbearing, and insufferably arrogant throughout your life, Milo Ming. Who could have foreseen that at this eleventh hour, you would utter such words of contrition? Had you but achieved this epiphany sooner, my family might yet have been spared their tragic fate," Tyrone Zhou's eyes blazed with a murderous fury, his gaze fixed upon Milo Ming as if he could rend him asunder with a single look.
Milo Ming, his face a rictus of pain, begged for mercy. "I know that my end is nigh and that I am rightfully condemned. My followers, too, have reaped the bitter harvest of their complicity. But my family, they are innocent. Spare them, I implore you."
Tyrone Zhou's hand shot out like a striking serpent, seizing Milo Ming by the throat and hoisting him aloft. His voice rose to a thunderous roar, "Your family is innocent, you say? Was my family then guilty of some heinous crime?
"My fiancée, blessed with a beauty that inflamed your base desires.
"My father, who dared to oppose your designs and was thus slain.
"All one hundred and forty-nine souls of my family, extinguished at your hands.
"And now you would have me spare your kin? You dare to claim their innocence?
"I tell you this, even if the very king of heaven himself descended, you, Milo Ming, and every member of the Ming family shall pay the ultimate price with your lives!!!"
Tyrone Zhou's voice reverberated through the mountains, a clarion call of vengeance.
Among the vast multitude of disciples, elders, and deacons of the Heavenly Dao Sect, a deathly hush prevailed.
This feud was beyond their ken, a tempest of rage and retribution that they dared not enter.
For should this sorry tale reach the ears of the outside world, it would surely stain the hallowed reputation of the Heavenly Dao Sect. If it were within their power, they would have consigned this entire episode to oblivion.
They would have preferred any alternative to this ignominious spectacle of being assailed and forced to hand over one of their own to face a grisly fate.
Yet they were powerless. The immortal weapon, its core prohibition unlocked, had proven an insurmountable obstacle.
Without the intervention of a sage, the might of the Emperor's Pen was unassailable.
And so, they could only stand aside, mute witnesses to the unfolding tragedy.
With a savage gesture, Tyrone Zhou raised his hand, and the Emperor's Pen stirred, as if sensing his murderous intent.
"Reduce them to naught but ashes!" Tyrone Zhou bellowed, his voice a raw expression of unbridled fury.
At this moment, any who dared to impede his path would face a wrath of apocalyptic proportions.
The Supreme Elder of the Heavenly Dao Sect, his face a study in inscrutability, took several measured steps backward. His stance was clear.
He would not involve himself in this affair.
Radiant Sky, too, turned his back, his countenance cold and unyielding. The enmity between him and Milo Ming's father was an open secret within the Heavenly Dao Sect. There was no question of his interceding on their behalf.
Boom!
The Emperor's Pen unleashed its dread power, a cataclysmic force that seemed to rend the very fabric of reality. A tempestuous aura, like a gathering thundercloud, descended upon the hapless Ming family.
Boom, boom, boom, boom!
In an instant, the members of the Ming family were reduced to lifeless corpses, their existence snuffed out by the irresistible might of the Emperor's Pen.
Even Milo Ming's father, a being of Saint Lord level combat power, had proven no match for the Emperor's Pen with its prohibition opened. How, then, could these ordinary mortals hope to withstand its wrath?
Before Milo Ming's disbelieving eyes, his family members perished one by one, until naught but death and desolation remained.
Milo Ming's eyes bulged with rage, his teeth grinding together with such force that it seemed they might shatter. He spat forth a mouthful of blood, a mixture of grief and impotent fury, yet he could not alter the inexorable march of fate.
Tyrone Zhou cast Milo Ming aside like a discarded rag, his voice cold and pitiless. "Now you shall taste the bitter cup of suffering that I have endured. Watch as your family is torn asunder, one life at a time."
Milo Ming collapsed to the ground, a broken man. He stared heavenward, his eyes vacant and despairing.
He no longer possessed the strength to argue, to resist.
In a final, desperate act, Milo Ming chose to shatter his own heart veins, to end his tortured existence.
"Father, mother, your unworthy son Milo Ming has failed you. My life has been a folly, a litany of mistakes that have brought ruin upon myself and you. I come now to join you in the afterlife. Wait for me, I beseech you, on the road to the underworld," Milo Ming murmured, his voice a faint whisper, his eyes fixed upon the azure sky as his breathing grew fainter and fainter, until at last it ceased.
Tyrone Zhou regarded Milo Ming's lifeless form with a mixture of anger and disbelief. He had not anticipated that his foe would choose this final, cowardly escape.
"You are fortunate to have escaped a more agonizing end. Else, I would have made you suffer a thousand torments," Tyrone Zhou spat, his curse a bitter aftertaste. Yet, in the wake of his vengeance, a strange emptiness filled his heart.
The great feud of his family had been avenged.
His precious talent had been bartered away.
And now, he found himself adrift, without a rudder to guide him. He had not given a single thought to the path that lay ahead.
"Perhaps, to leave this world and seek out my parents and Xiaoi is my true destiny," Tyrone Zhou mused, his thoughts turning to his childhood sweetheart, Xiaoi.
Tyrone Zhou departed, leaving behind a trail of chaos and consternation. This tempest had rocked the Heavenly Dao Sect to its very core.
The Supreme Elder emerged from his seclusion, his countenance set and determined. He set about purging the sect of its corrupt and dissipated elements, showing no mercy as he struck down the wayward disciples. His will was as unyielding as iron, and none dared to oppose him.
Of course, these were but the aftershocks of the cataclysm.
White Emperor Radiant Sky, once a contender for the mantle of leadership of the Heavenly Dao Sect, now spurned the very idea. In times past, the allure of that position had held a powerful sway over him. But in the wake of these events, he had experienced a profound epiphany. The trappings of power held no charm for him.
The White Emperor, too, vanished from the scene. He relinquished his claim to White Emperor City, entrusting it to another's care, and disappeared without a trace.
Tyrone Zhou, bearing the immortal weapon, the Emperor's Pen, likewise faded from the public eye.
And within the Heaven and Earth Bank, Aiden woke up.
During the time of talent exchange, Aiden had been constantly adapting. He felt as if he had traversed endless years.
From the past to the present, and then from the present to the future, he had walked through all of it in the endless expanse of time.
Aiden opened his eyes and saw the Heaven and Earth Bank as before, and the beautiful Seraphina.
At this moment, he had completely transformed. He was no longer the ordinary mortal he used to be.
Aiden had fully integrated and activated the talent of a prophet, becoming a person with prescience.
Seraphina had played a crucial role during this period.
Aiden stood up, and his entire temperament had changed. Previously, he was rather mediocre. Now, his temperament was unfathomable. He had become much more handsome. Standing there, his aloof and cold temperament befitted the owner of the Heaven and Earth Bank.
Now, he was qualified to become the new owner of the Heaven and Earth Bank.