The Ironfang Sect was celebrating.
A banquet raged in the inner courtyard—roasted spirit boar piled high, jugs of wine overflowing, and elders boasting like warlords drunk on their own importance.
"To Elder Bian's recovery!" one toasted.
"To Ironfang's dominance!" another shouted.
The Sect Master chuckled deeply. "Even the heavens fear us now."
Right on cue, the wine in his cup curdled to blood.
One Hour Earlier…
Shen Mo stood at the edge of a mountain ledge, holding a forged invitation and a scowl.
"Why do these fools always host parties right before they die?"
He pulled out a name tag from his sleeve.
Guest Elder: Bai Tian – Alchemy Trader – Totally Real
With a sigh, he activated a minor illusion array, disguising himself just enough to look like a bored merchant. He strolled through the front gates.
No one stopped him.
After all, Ironfang's security had been compromised for three days straight and hadn't noticed.
Inside the Banquet Grounds
"More wine!" cried an elder.
The table groaned under the weight of meat, pills, spirit fruit, and pride. Shen Mo found a spot in the corner and watched with silent amusement as yet another guard tripped over his own blade.
"You there," a wrinkled old drunk waved at him, "What do you think of our Iron-Wine?"
Shen Mo picked up a cup, sniffed it, and smiled.
"Aged well. Pity it's poisoned."
"Huh—?"
Thud. The elder collapsed into his stew.
Panic broke out as disciples and elders began choking, falling, and smashing into tables in chaos.
"It's an ambush!"
"Find him!"
"He said the wine was poison—GET HIM!"
Shen Mo calmly stood, snapped his fingers, and his storage ring burst—releasing a swarm of explosive talismans, black needles, and one confused goose.
The goose honked in panic, flew into a fire pit, and everyone screamed louder.
Guards lunged toward him. Shen Mo spun through them like a storm, every movement precise. He didn't even draw a weapon.
He caught a flying spear with two fingers, spun it, and flung it into a guard's knee.
"Agh! My... soul bone!"
Another disciple screamed as a talisman latched to his chest and exploded into ink. No pain—just humiliation.
"MY ROBES!"
Sect Master: Furious.
He rose, twin sabers gleaming with fire, spiritual aura roaring to life.
"You dare insult Ironfang—?"
"No," Shen Mo replied. "I came to bury it."
The clash was brutal.
Flames and steel filled the air, but Shen Mo fought with sharp footwork and poisoned palm techniques. In five exchanges, one saber snapped. In seven, the other shattered.
He grabbed the Sect Master by the neck and whispered:
"You enslaved someone I want."
"You'll regret—"
CRACK.
The Sect Master's dantian collapsed inward. Shen Mo dropped him like trash.
Then, casually, he pointed skyward.
A single flare of black Qi burst above the sect.
And the entire Ironfang Sect began to fall apart.
—Explosions in the pill halls.—Storage caves caving in.—Beasts released into the disciples' dorms.—Prison cells opening one by one.
And in a dark dungeon, Xue Rong's chains fell to the ground with a loud snap.
He looked at them, surprised for a moment.
Then he grinned like a wolf.
"He really did it."
He charged up the stairs—shirtless, scarred, laughing—and broke through a burning gate just in time to see Shen Mo walking calmly through rubble.
They locked eyes.
For the first time in years, Xue Rong didn't feel like prey.
He felt like a storm.
He stopped a few feet from Shen Mo, panting.
"You destroyed an entire sect."
"No," Shen Mo said, "I dismantled it. Destruction was a side effect."
Xue Rong nodded slowly.
Then said:
"Now I follow you. I don't care if you're a demon. Just point me at something to break."
The System chimed:
[Recruitment Successful – Xue Rong]Path: Body RefinementLoyalty: 64%Hidden Trait: Berserker Will (Locked)
New Hall Activated – Body Refinement Hall (Tier I)Martial Disciple: Level 4 → 5
Regional Reputation: "The Hero Who Freed the Slaves" (+24%)
Shen Mo winced.
"They'll probably name a festival after me."
"You want me to burn it down?"
"…I'm starting to like you."