The Requiem Tree within Feng Mo's soul realm pulsed steadily, its tenth vein glowing with sovereign light.
But light alone doesn't command loyalty.
It must be forged.
In fire.
In blood.
In belief.
And so Feng Mo walked into the Ruined Bladewell Territory, where those discarded by the world crawled like shadows and the law of the strong was gospel.
Bladewell: Land of the Broken
The territory was a scar on the map—mountains shattered from an ancient war, rivers dry and carved with names of the dead.
This was a place for mercenaries, exiles, beastkin slaves, and disavowed cultivators.
The Sects did not tread here.
But the Sovereign would.
Feng Mo and Ling Xue stepped into a cratered outpost named Embercut, where tents stitched from beast hides flapped in the wind, and taverns served drinks laced with soul poisons.
Everyone watched them.
Not because of fear.
But because outsiders didn't live long in Bladewell.
The First Kill
A hulking man with four tusks and three swords strapped to his back approached.
"You smell like a rich corpse," he growled at Feng Mo. "Hand over your spatial rings."
Ling Xue's hand drifted toward her blade, but Feng Mo raised his own.
"I'll give you one chance," Feng Mo said calmly. "Kneel. And serve."
The brute blinked—then laughed, spitting on the ground.
"You're either mad… or suicidal."
Feng Mo nodded.
"Then I choose madness."
He struck with open palm.
The man's body didn't even fly—it crumpled, folding inward like cloth as Feng Mo invoked Sovereign Pulse: Mind Collapse.
His soul fragmented before he hit the ground.
The surrounding mercenaries froze.
Not because the man died.
But because of how easily he died.
"I seek warriors," Feng Mo announced. "Those cast aside by the sects. Those hungry for more."
"I will build a faction not of honor… but of freedom."
"Kneel to me, and I will give you strength beyond your bloodlines."
---
The First to Kneel
A figure stepped forward.
Not a warrior—but a boy. No older than fifteen.
Thin. Dust-covered. One eye missing, and one hand replaced with a rusted spirit hook.
He looked up at Feng Mo.
"You… really a sovereign?"
"What's your name?" Feng Mo asked.
"Ren," the boy said. "Used to be… nothing."
"Then become something," Feng Mo said, offering a hand.
The boy took it.
In that moment, the Requiem Tree pulsed—and a shard of its power entered Ren's body.
His spine straightened. His eye glowed faint red.
Not a full vein.
But a Sovereign Mark.
One by one, others stepped forward.
Five.
Ten.
Thirty.
By nightfall, Feng Mo had the start of a faction:
Ren, the Soul-Hooked Boy.
Wulfran, an exile from the Crimson Beastkin Tribe.
Dancer Xie, a poison maiden with twin soul traits.
Huo Fan, a flame cultivator who burned his own sect for revenge.
And over twenty unaligned mercenaries hungry for more than scraps.
---
Assassin's Arrival
But sovereignty is never left unanswered.
That same night, the first name from the Spectral Pavilion's scroll arrived.
Zhen Liuyin — the Silver Widow.
She arrived without sound, walking through walls, her form a veil of mercury.
They found the first sentry's body twitching—no wound, no blood—just dead.
Feng Mo sensed her.
He stood in the open.
"You've come for a sovereign's head," he said. "So come claim it."
From the rooftop above, she materialized—short, elegant, her fingers tipped in black-laced claws.
"You're younger than I expected," she said. "Shame."
Feng Mo didn't speak.
The Requiem Tree inside him flared.
"Sovereign Pulse — Vein Severance."
The space around them warped. Liuyin's first strike twisted into fog, her second halted mid-air as her vein signature was forcibly suppressed.
She gasped—
"Impossible—!"
"You came to kill a sovereign," Feng Mo said. "But I've already killed who I used to be."
He closed the distance.
One strike.
The glaive shimmered with karmic backlash.
"Calamity Flame — Soul Cleave."
Her body fell in two clean halves.
But as it dropped, her soul smiled.
"You're too late… The next one is already coming."
---
The Second Flame
Feng Mo turned toward the newly gathered mercenaries.
"You want to follow me?" he asked. "Then understand this: I do not offer safety. I offer purpose."
He pointed toward the Silver Widow's corpse.
"Enemies will come for us—endlessly. But if you walk beside me, I'll make sure you rise so high even heaven looks up."
The Requiem Tree within his soul sang again.
And from it, a branch extended—manifesting a glowing rune in the air.
The symbol of a new faction.
One that would be remembered in ages to come:
The Sovereign Flame Sect.
A sect for the broken, the betrayed, the burning.
And it had just claimed its first victory.
---
🔥 Chapter 20 Summary:
Feng Mo journeys to the ruined Bladewell Territory to recruit outcasts and exiles for his own faction.
He publicly defeats a challenger, gaining respect and fear, and begins forming a faction under the name Sovereign Flame Sect.
Bestows his first Sovereign Mark to Ren, a crippled youth, awakening his potential.
The first assassin, Zhen Liuyin, arrives but is killed after a clash of karmic and soul-based techniques.
Feng Mo officially declares the formation of his sect—inviting chaos, hope, and rebellion across the continent.