Chapter One: The Battle at the Sheer Cliff

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New Era of Tianyuan, Great Calendar Year 2366, June 18th, an unnamed seaside cliff.

The waves roared beneath the cliff, relentlessly pounding the rocky coast. Atop one such cliff, a fierce battle was underway.

There were two factions in this brutal melee: one side clad in red, the other in white. Within the ranks of those in white stood a child of about * years, heavily guarded.

The fighting grew ever more desperate, the white-clad side slipping further into peril. Judging by the scene, it would not be long before they were utterly destroyed.

Among those in white, an elderly man with the bearing of a sage stood out. His silver hair flowed in the wind, and though his spirit seemed unbroken, his eyes were heavy and his expression grew increasingly grim as he watched the deadly struggle unfold.

At last, the old man sighed deeply. Turning to regard the child surrounded by guards, he shook his head and strode quickly to his side.

“Zhe’er, are you afraid?” the old man asked, crouching down.

“Grandfather, I’m not afraid. I know you’ll defeat them all,” the boy replied, eyes shining with a fearless resolve.

“Good, truly worthy to be my grandson,” the old man beamed with pride at the boy’s answer. Yet, despite the smile on his face, his right hand unconsciously pressed to his chest, where a black handprint burned through his clothing—hidden from all but him.

He sighed once more, heavily, and rose to face the chaos of battle. Only a few white-clad figures still fought on, desperately.

After another glance at his grandson, the old man gently caressed the child’s head with fatherly affection. Then, he placed his left index finger in his mouth and bit down hard.

“Grandfather, what are you doing?” the boy asked, puzzled by the action.

“It’s nothing,” the old man replied softly, smiling kindly.

Gazing at the blood welling from his finger, he shook his head and murmured, “Forebears of my clan, I have failed you. Possessed of ability to roam the world unhindered, yet in the end I cannot protect my own grandson. How can I ever face you?”

With that, the old man traced an arcane sigil in the palm of his right hand using the blood from his finger. Then, with both hands clasped tightly before his chest, he began to recite an incantation, his fingers weaving a dizzying array of seals.

Soon, he ceased his gestures. Raising his blood-marked right forefinger, he touched it to the boy’s forehead. Instantly, a strange blood-red symbol appeared, binding itself to the child like an iron circlet.

The sigil flashed into existence and faded just as quickly, vanishing as though it had sunk into the boy’s mind.

Stunned by this sudden act, the boy cradled his burning forehead and cried out in pain, but the agony soon passed.

“Gra...Grandfather...” the boy murmured, weakened by the ordeal.

Tears welled in the old man’s eyes as he knelt before his grandson, trembling hands gently caressing the boy.

“Remember, Zhe’er, until you become truly powerful, do not seek vengeance for me,” he said, voice unsteady.

The boy nodded obediently.

“You must remember, you possess...” The old man’s words were drowned out by a thunderous crash as a great wave smashed against the shore, the roar obscuring his message. He paused, then continued, “It is an honor for our family to have a descendant like you.”

“What did you say, Grandfather?” the boy asked, confused by the interruption.

“All that you wish to know, I have placed within your mind. When you grow up and become strong, you will understand everything,” the old man said, his voice choked with emotion.

“Enough. It’s time to go,” he declared at last, rising to his feet.

“Grandfather...” The boy did not move, tugging at his grandfather’s sleeve.

“Go, quickly!” the old man urged, not daring to look back at his grandson for fear his heart would break.

“Where do you think you’re going?” came a sudden shout as a red-clad figure loosed an arrow toward the white-robed guard about to lead the boy away.

“Danger, young master!” the guard cried, shielding the child with his own body.

The arrow struck the guard squarely, piercing his chest, and he fell to the ground like a toppled statue.

“Hahaha! Trying to escape? We went to great lengths to catch you,” a red-robed man sneered.

“Go!” the old man shouted, turning to strike the child’s chest with a gentle yet forceful palm.

A soft surge of energy sent the boy flying off the edge, plummeting down the sheer cliff.

“What? You... you old wretch!” the red-robed man roared with fury as the child disappeared.

“Heaven, protect my grandson,” the old man murmured, gazing with deep affection at the tempestuous sea below.

“You stubborn old man! If we can’t capture him today, we’ll take you back to the Hall Master instead!” a masked red-robed figure shouted.

The old man laughed, turning to face nearly a hundred red-robed adversaries.

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“Why are you laughing, old man?” the red-robed man demanded.

“I laugh at your youthful arrogance. Do you really think you can capture me? Ah, how reckless the young have become these days,” the old man replied, stroking his beard.

“Hmph, you may be formidable, but you’ve been poisoned. Even we can capture you now,” the red-robed man retorted.

“Indeed. I never expected you’d even seek out that old poison master just to capture my grandson,” the old man chuckled.

“Save your words. It’s useless at death’s door,” the red-robed man growled.

“Youngster, when I roamed the continent unchallenged, your father was still in your grandmother’s belly,” the old man replied with a wizened smile.

“Hmph. Once you’re captured, let’s see if you’re still so glib,” the red-robed man snapped, signaling his men to attack.

“Alas, such youthful recklessness,” the old man sighed, his smile fading.

Lifting his head, he gazed skyward, a slight smile on his lips. “Old Poison Master, I know you’re nearby. We’re both renowned across the continent, and yet, you—once so proud—now bow to another’s will. Are you truly at ease with that? Though I bear your deadly poison, it seems these men alone are not enough to finish me. If you do not come out, aren’t you afraid they’ll die at my hands?”

No sooner had the old man finished than, from a distant grove, a flood of overwhelming spiritual power surged outward, startling flocks of birds into flight. The power receded like a tide, and from its source, a black-robed figure shot forth like lightning, heading straight for the old man.

The black-robed man moved with astonishing speed, appearing before the old man in the blink of an eye.

“Well, Old Poison Master, you’ve arrived,” the old man greeted him with a smile.

“Hmph, you stubborn old devil,” the black-robed man replied, removing his hood to reveal a strikingly handsome face, seemingly no older than twenty.

The red-clad warriors ceased their assault at once, all kneeling on one knee before the black-robed man as subjects before their sovereign.

“Stand back. Though he’s been struck by my Ghostly Poison Palm and his power is greatly diminished, he’s still more than a match for you. After all, this man is my equal,” the black-clad man declared coldly, dismissing the others with a wave.

Not a single one of the red-clad men hesitated; all withdrew at once.

“Hmph, Old Poison Master, our last duel was decades ago, but I remember it as if it were yesterday,” the old man said with a laugh.

“Oh? Reflecting on your life already?” the black-robed man sneered.

“Come now, don’t say that. I know I won’t survive today—can’t I reminisce a little before I go?” the old man replied with a chuckle.

“Hmph, still as slippery as ever,” the black-robed man said coldly.

“Enough talk—take this!” Suddenly, the black-robed man swept aside his cloak, his right hand forming a claw. Black spiritual energy swirled around his hand like the talons of a monstrous eagle, exuding a foul stench that chilled the soul. He launched himself at the old man with the speed of an arrow.

“Impatient as ever,” the old man remarked, making no move to evade. His hands shook, and crimson energy surged to cover his right palm. Like his opponent, he shot forward to meet the attack.

“Eagle Poison Claw!”

“Blazing Fire Palm!”

Boom!

The two titanic forces collided, red and black light flaring up. The shockwave rippled outward, sending dust and stones flying, snapping trees in half, and rolling boulders across the ground.

On a distant hill, the retreated red-clad men gathered to watch the spectacle. Even from afar, they braced themselves against the blast, some weaker ones knocked flat.

“My lord, is this what a battle between true masters looks like?” one red-clad man asked a figure in a crimson cloak.

The cloaked leader stood unmoved, the shockwave not even ruffling his stance.

“Yes. This is true power. In all my years, I’ve only witnessed such a fight once before—when our Sixth and Eighth Hall Masters dueled. That battle leveled two mountains,” he replied, face grave.

“Tell the others to stay alert and be ready to withdraw. If the shockwave strengthens, we’ll all be buried here,” he commanded in a cold voice.

Shortly after, as the shockwave dissipated, dust still choked the battlefield. Suddenly, a figure was flung from the haze—none other than the old man.

Thud, thud, thud!

He crashed to the ground and skidded along, gouging a long trench before coming to rest.

Coughing, he struggled to his feet, clutching his chest.

“Old Poison Master, after all these years, your Eagle Poison Claw has grown more formidable,” he said, steadying himself.

“Old man, you’d best come with me. I promise they won’t harm you,” the black-robed man said coldly.

“We’ve known each other long enough—you know my nature well,” the old man replied.

“Hah, still as bullheaded as ever,” the black-robed man sighed.

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“Old Poison Master, to trade blows with you one last time—my life is not in vain,” the old man said.

The black-robed man sighed.

“Come, let’s continue,” the old man said, recovering and flourishing his hand.

“Then pardon my offense,” the black-robed man replied sharply.

Instead of attacking, he slowly raised both arms until they were level with his chest, his body gently lifting into the air.

“Oh? What’s this move?” the old man squinted, watching closely.

As the black-robed man’s hands reached his chest, the sky began to darken. Soon, clouds gathered, lightning flashed, thunder rumbled, and a black wind began to howl.

“A celestial phenomenon?” the old man murmured.

“A celestial phenomenon? With this and the earlier gestures—what technique is this?” the old man’s mind raced, connecting the black-robed man’s actions to the ominous changes around them.

Suddenly, his eyes widened in shock. “Old Poison Master, you intend to use that move!”

“Hmph. So you remember,” the black-robed man sneered.

“Will you really render the land barren and all creatures dead?” the old man shouted.

“If I don’t, how else can I capture you?” the black-robed man retorted.

As they spoke, the red-clad observers on the distant hill watched in growing alarm. The cloaked leader, recognizing the dire signs, shouted, “Run! Run as far as you can!”

He took off at once, the others—startled but compelled by authority and fear—quickly following.

Back in the battle circle, a dense black mist was rapidly coalescing around the black-robed man, forming a massive, writhing shape behind him.

The old man, eyes grave, summoned blinding red light to his hands. As the radiance reached its peak, he stomped the ground.

A deep rumble followed, as fissures as thick as tree trunks snaked outwards from beneath his feet, spreading for hundreds of yards.

Fire burst forth from these cracks, jetting skyward, then swiftly converged toward the old man’s right hand as though guided by unseen will.

While the old man gathered his flames, the black mist behind his opponent took shape—a colossal black serpent, hundreds of yards long, its eyes glowing with blood-red light, its tongue flickering menacingly.

Meanwhile, the old man continued his preparation. The inferno gushed ceaselessly from the earth, drawn inexorably to his right hand, the flames growing ever larger.

At last, the old man ceased, lifting the immense fireball above his head—a blazing sun, radiating unbearable heat.

“Haha! Excellent! It’s been so long since I’ve fought with such abandon!” the black-robed man laughed.

“Old man, let’s see whose power prevails!” he challenged.

“Demon Venom Devourer—Ghost Python!”

With a thrust of his palm, the giant black serpent shot toward the old man at blinding speed. Wherever it passed, all vegetation withered, thickets shriveled, and in moments, the ground was left blackened and lifeless as if poisoned.

“Heaven-Scorching Fire—Flame Emperor!”

Seeing the black serpent hurtling toward him, the old man glanced at the fireball above his head, then, with a roar, hurled it toward the serpent. The fireball left only ashes in its wake, the earth beneath it turning yet more golden, veined with spiderweb cracks as if all moisture had been sucked away.

Boom!

The two colossal forces collided, unleashing a thunderous roar, yet no shockwave was released; instead, the two energies locked together, red and black, each holding its ground in a precarious balance.

From afar, the fleeing red-clad men looked back and saw the hemispherical energy sphere the collision produced—one side black, one side red—locked in a deadly stalemate.

Suddenly, a deafening sound split the air as the energy sphere released a torrent of power, the shockwave spreading for thousands of yards. Wherever it passed, the earth split, vegetation was uprooted, the destruction far surpassing anything seen before.

Thus ended a titanic battle, its outcome unknown. But none could have foreseen that this clash would ignite an epoch-shattering war yet to come.