The night sky was lit with countless stars, the Hollow Vale wrapped in a tranquil silence that belied the transformation it had just undergone. At its heart stood Aeron, his robes fluttering gently in the cool wind as spiritual mist spiraled around his feet. His blade—now named Nightrender—hung on his back, pulsating faintly with the power of the Sovereign Path.
He had claimed the Vault, planted the first spiritual node, and established his right to rule in this forsaken land.
But not everyone would accept a young cultivator, barely at the Spiritual Warrior stage, as their sovereign.
The valley was not empty.
Scattered throughout the canyons, remnants of rogue sects, disbanded militias, and exiled clans lingered. Most lived as outlaws, preying on beast herds and smaller nomadic families. The strongest among them was a former militia turned mercenary band known as the Black Blade Fangs—a ruthless force led by a mid-stage Spiritual Warrior named Kael Droven.
They ruled a small settlement built among the cliffs, where their flag—black, torn, and stained with dried blood—fluttered from atop a stone tower.
Kael, a man with steel-grey hair and a scar running down his neck, sat at the head of a long stone table. Around him sat seven other warriors, each with cultivation levels ranging from peak Body Foundation to early Spiritual Warrior.
A scout burst into the room, breathing heavily.
> "Commander Kael! You must see this!"
Kael stood, annoyance in his eyes. "What is it now? Another beast stampede?"
The scout shook his head, voice shaking.
> "No, sir. It's… it's something else. A mark appeared in the sky. A crest. It radiated spiritual pressure stronger than anything we've ever felt in this valley!"
Kael narrowed his eyes. "Where?"
> "At the old temple ruins—where the Vault used to be sealed."
The room fell silent.
Kael's fists clenched. "Someone awakened the legacy?"
> "Yes, sir. We don't know who, but… it wasn't just an awakening. The spiritual density around that region tripled overnight. Mist formed from thin air."
Kael's mind raced. The vault had been sealed for centuries. Dozens of sects had tried to open it—none had succeeded.
Now a stranger had done what hundreds had failed.
> "Gather every cultivator," he ordered. "If someone awakened the Vault, they are either dead… or too strong to be left alive."
---
Back at the ruined temple, Aeron had not rested.
Using the jade pendant, he had begun forming a series of simple defensive arrays around the ruins. Though the resources were scarce, his knowledge allowed him to weave basic qi-dispersing barriers and concealment formations.
He knelt before a small fire, meditating as spiritual energy flowed into him from the surrounding mists. His cultivation was stabilizing, solidifying his recent breakthrough.
Then he heard it.
Heavy boots. Multiple footsteps. The clang of weapons.
He opened his eyes.
> "They came faster than I expected."
Dozens of silhouettes emerged from the darkness, torches held high. At the front was Kael Droven, his aura heavy with killing intent.
Kael stepped forward, unsheathing a curved sabre that crackled with wind qi.
> "So, it's you," he said. "A brat who thinks lighting up the sky makes him a king."
Aeron rose slowly, dusting his robes.
> "I claimed no throne that wasn't abandoned. This valley was rotting. I gave it purpose."
Kael sneered. "It doesn't need purpose. It needs strength. And you're not strong enough."
Without warning, Kael slashed forward, sending a blade of condensed wind qi howling toward Aeron.
But Aeron was ready.
He sidestepped with grace, drawing Nightrender in a single, smooth arc. The air around his blade shimmered, then exploded outward in a pulse of shadow qi.
Boom!
The wind slash dispersed mid-air, and Kael skidded to a stop, surprised.
> "Shadow attribute… You've awakened an affinity."
Aeron's stance was relaxed, but his eyes were sharp. "You'll find I've awakened more than that."
Kael's men charged forward, surrounding Aeron. But he didn't panic.
He stomped the ground, activating a formation beneath his feet.
Boom!
Rising from the earth, chains of light lashed out from the pattern carved into the stones. Three mercenaries were snared instantly, their cultivation sealed by the array's suppression qi.
Aeron leapt forward, swinging Nightrender in a tight arc.
> "Void Slash!"
A ripple of shadow tore through the formation, slicing through two more attackers who barely managed to raise their weapons.
Kael growled and charged again, spinning his sabre in a hurricane of attacks. His wind qi howled like a storm, striking at Aeron from multiple angles.
But Aeron had read his rhythm.
He raised his left palm.
> "Soul Bind."
A faint sigil glowed in his palm, and Kael's movements slowed for a heartbeat—just enough for Aeron to duck under his strike and drive his elbow into Kael's ribs.
Crack!
The mercenary leader stumbled back, coughing blood. "What… what was that technique?"
Aeron didn't answer.
He pressed the advantage, lunging forward with a series of precise thrusts. Each strike of Nightrender buzzed with spiritual resonance, drawing blood with every movement.
Kael roared and erupted with a wind burst, forcing Aeron to slide back. "You think you can beat me with tricks and flashy moves?"
But before he could advance again, a wall of earth erupted between them.
Aeron had activated another array.
> "You rely on brute force," he said from behind the wall. "That's why you'll lose."
Kael's eyes widened. "You… you laid traps ahead of time."
> "I knew you'd come."
Kael raised his sabre for a final strike, pouring his qi into it. The blade turned silver, slicing through the stone wall.
But Aeron was no longer behind it.
He was above him.
Descending from the sky, his blade cloaked in shadow.
> "Fell Crescent."
A sweeping arc descended from above, the shadow energy forming a crescent that cut straight through Kael's defences.
The man screamed as the force of the technique sent him crashing into the altar stones, his body broken.
The remaining mercenaries hesitated.
Aeron raised his sword, pointing it at them.
> "Swear loyalty… or flee."
Some dropped their weapons and fell to their knees.
Others ran.
The battle was over.
Aeron stood alone amid the ruined battlefield, the spiritual mist swirling more thickly now, as if drawn to his presence.
He wiped blood from his blade and looked toward the stars.
> "This land has witnessed death for too long," he whispered. "It's time it witnessed rebirth."
The sky above Hollow Vale was beginning to turn crimson as dawn approached. The scent of blood still lingered in the air, heavy and metallic. Bodies of the fallen lay scattered across the ancient stones, their weapons soaked in the last embers of their ambition. The firelight from torches danced across the broken ruins, casting long shadows behind Aeron as he stood silently over Kael's defeated form.
Kael Droven was still alive—barely.
He coughed violently, blood seeping from the corners of his lips as he struggled to lift his head. His once-proud sabre had shattered in half, and his dantian felt ruptured, a crack in his core leaking energy like a punctured vessel.
> "You... you could've killed me..." he rasped.
Aeron sheathed Nightrender, his expression unreadable.
> "I could have. But death is a release for someone like you. You're going to live, Kael. Live and witness what true strength builds—not destroys."
Kael coughed again and spat to the side, barely able to sit upright.
> "You... want me to serve you?"
Aeron stepped closer, the soft hum of his cultivation pressing down like a mountain.
> "No. I want you to remember what it feels like to be powerless. Use it. Redeem yourself, or disappear from this land."
Kael's pride warred with the humiliation burning inside him. He looked at the blood on his hands, the scattered corpses of his men, and the few who had surrendered—now kneeling in silence, watching with bated breath.
With what little strength he had left, Kael bowed his head.
> "I understand... Lord Sovereign."
Those words echoed in the air, heavier than any oath.
Aeron turned his attention to the others. "All of you," he said, voice strong but not cruel, "you have a choice. This place will no longer be ruled by blades and fear alone. If you follow me, you'll follow discipline, duty, and purpose. Your lives won't be easy. But you'll be part of something far greater than yourselves."
One of the kneeling men—a tall cultivator with dark eyes and a rough beard—nodded. "We accept your rule, Sovereign."
The others murmured in agreement.
Thus, the Black Blade Fangs—once the most feared mercenary band in Hollow Vale—were no more.
They had become the first soldiers of the Sovereign Legion.
---
By mid-morning, the battlefield had been cleared. The wounded were treated with spiritual herbs gathered from the outskirts. The dead were burned in a pyre, a solemn ceremony led by Aeron himself. Though most had chosen their fates, the Sovereign respected the lives they once led.
Kael, still recovering, watched the flames with a distant gaze.
> "What is this place going to become?" he asked.
Aeron stood beside him, his cloak fluttering in the mountain wind. "A stronghold. A sanctuary. A kingdom."
Kael chuckled bitterly. "There's nothing here but broken stone and low-density spiritual mist."
Aeron smiled faintly. "That was true. But it won't remain so. The spiritual node we activated—its energy is still spreading. Within weeks, beasts will gather. Rare herbs will sprout. Resources will bloom. And more importantly…"
He raised his hand, revealing a map marked with runes and etched lines of energy veins.
> "This entire region lies atop a leyline. One that hasn't been tapped in centuries."
Kael stared in disbelief. "You… you're not just guessing, are you?"
> "I don't guess," Aeron said simply. "I plan."
---
That same evening, Aeron stood inside the Vault Temple, now converted into the seat of his rule. Its once-empty halls were being refurbished by the surviving members of Kael's group—some skilled in crafts, others adept at formations.
He faced a large table covered in hand-drawn maps of the surrounding regions.
> "This is just one valley," he murmured. "But beyond these mountains are scattered tribes, bandit clans, forsaken outposts. None of them united. None of them prepared for what's coming."
Dalia, the healer who had joined him days ago, entered the room, wiping her hands of crushed herbs. "How many will join us?"
Aeron looked thoughtful. "Most will resist. Some will see opportunity. The rest will be swayed by strength."
He stepped back and turned to her.
> "Prepare the scouts. I want to know who governs the Twin Horn Ridge to the west. We'll send an envoy first—but only once we've fortified our position."
Dalia nodded. "And what of cultivation?"
> "That comes next."
---
Three days passed.
Aeron retreated into the central chamber of the Vault Temple—the heart of the spiritual node. Inside was a pool of mist, swirling like a slow-moving storm, infused with the leyline's power. He sat cross-legged at its edge, absorbing the refined energy into his core.
Each breath pulled in more than just qi.
It carried clarity.
Focus.
And strength.
His body pulsed with heat as shadow qi flowed alongside his natural elemental affinity. His meridians expanded, muscles firmed, bones strengthened.
—Ding!—
In his spiritual sea, the voice of his cultivation rang out.
> You have reached Level 12: Late-Stage Body Foundation.
> Your spiritual reserves have expanded. Innate ability: [Shadowstep] unlocked.
Aeron opened his eyes.
> "Finally…"
He stood and moved through a shadow cast by a torch on the wall—only to reappear silently on the other side of the chamber.
> "So this is Shadowstep. It consumes qi, but makes me invisible within shadows for two seconds."
Not much at lower levels.
But at higher realms?
A deadly art.
He clenched his fists and nodded.
> "The Sovereign Path has only just begun."
---
Later that night, as his followers set up new camps, rebuilt the temple, and trained in the courtyard, a hooded figure approached the valley gate.
A scout halted him. "Halt! Identify yourself."
The figure raised a hand and revealed a token—an ancient sigil of the forgotten sect of Vermillion Sky.
> "I heard… a new sovereign has risen," the man said.
The scout frowned. "You're a sectless wanderer. What business do you have here?"
The man lifted his hood, revealing a face marred by old scars and eyes that burned with a strange light.
> "I bring news from the north. The Beast Clans are stirring."
He paused.
> "And a death bounty has been issued for your Sovereign. Ten thousand spirit stones, dead or alive."