บท 25: Ch 25: Cheon Dan's Truth -2
Feng Liang's head still pounded from the blinding pain, but it gradually began to ebb away, giving way to yet another vision.
As his eyes refocused, he found himself thrust into a scene that was both haunting and surreal... a battlefield unlike any he had ever witnessed.
Before him lay a vast, blood-soaked plain, stretching endlessly in every direction. The ground was littered with corpses, piled high in grotesque mounds, their twisted bodies clad in a mix of tattered robes and shattered armor.
Swords and spears jutted from the earth like grim markers of a forgotten war, and banners, once held high with pride, now lay stained and trampled underfoot. The air was thick with the stench of death, a sickly, metallic odor that hung heavy and suffocating.
Feng Liang stood amidst the carnage, his eyes wide as he took in the horror of the scene. It was as though he had stepped into the aftermath of a battle that had raged with unparalleled ferocity.
Blood pooled in every crevice, soaking into the ground and turning the soil a deep, sickening crimson. In the distance, the cries of wounded soldiers could still be faintly heard, mingling with the moans of the dying.
Yet, despite the overwhelming brutality before him, Feng Liang found himself strangely calm. He felt no fear, no revulsion.
There was no urge to turn away, no impulse to vomit or recoil in horror. Instead, he watched with an unnerving stillness, his heart beating steadily in his chest.
'Why am I not horrified?'
Feng Liang wondered, his gaze sweeping over the fallen warriors. This is madness... and yet it feels familiar.
It was as if his soul had seen this carnage before, countless times, and had grown numb to its brutality. There was a sense of detachment, of familiarity with death and destruction that was unsettling in its ease.
As he continued to look around, his attention was drawn to a voice... a deep, commanding voice that cut through the silence like a blade. The words were spoken with an authority that was absolute, the kind of voice that brooked no argument, no defiance.
"Submit or face death. The choice is yours."
The air seemed to vibrate with the power of those words, and Feng Liang felt a chill run down his spine. The pressure that accompanied the voice was immense, suffocating, as though the very world was bending under its weight.
Feng Liang's heart skipped a beat, and his knees threatened to buckle under the sheer force of the presence behind that voice. But some unknown force, an energy that shielded him, kept him upright, protecting him from the crushing aura that filled the battlefield.
Slowly, Feng Liang turned toward the source of the voice, and his breath caught in his throat.
Sitting atop a massive mountain of corpses was a figure... a man who radiated power and dominance, as though he were the embodiment of war itself. He sat casually, one leg draped over the other, his chin resting on his fist in a pose of utter nonchalance.
His long black hair flowed down his back, and his muscular frame was clad in a black robe, intricately embroidered with the image of a golden dragon that shimmered ominously in the dim light.
There wasn't a single scratch on his body. Despite the carnage around him, he looked untouched, almost serene. His posture was that of a man who had nothing to fear, who had already won the battle long before it even began.
"Cheon Dan..." Feng Liang whispered, his voice barely audible, trembling with disbelief.
The figure on the throne of corpses was none other than Cheon Dan. But this was not the young man who had struggled in the forest, desperately seeking to absorb even a speck of Qi.
This was a Cheon Dan who had ascended to heights unimaginable... a man who now looked down upon the battlefield like an emperor surveying his conquered domain.
His expression was calm, almost bored, as if the bloodshed beneath him were little more than a fleeting inconvenience. He exuded an aura of absolute confidence and supremacy, a force so overwhelming that it seemed to bend the very fabric of reality around him.
His eyes, dark and piercing, scanned the battlefield with an air of indifference, as though he were merely surveying a task that had long since lost its challenge.
In front of him, kneeling in the blood-soaked dirt, were sixteen figures. They were broken, battered, and visibly defeated, their bodies bowed under the weight of their injuries.
Each one was a person of immense power, their robes tattered and stained with blood, their faces contorted in pain and humiliation. Some were missing limbs, others bore deep gashes that oozed dark red onto the ground beneath them.
They were forced into submission, not by choice, but because they had no strength left to stand.
Feng Liang's gaze flicked over the kneeling figures, his heart pounding as he recognized them. These were the patriarchs of the Nine Great Sects and the Seven Celestials of the Orthodox Alliance. The most revered cultivators of their time... now reduced to nothing more than beaten, bloodied prisoners before Cheon Dan.
The scene was surreal. These were individuals who had stood at the pinnacle of power, Mahayana realm cultivators whose names inspired both awe and fear across the world. They had ruled with absolute authority, shaping the destiny of their sects and the world around them.
Now, they were on their knees, their once proud and dignified faces twisted with a mixture of rage, shame, and a bitter resignation.
One by one, Feng Liang took in their appearances, the weight of their identities pressing down on him like a heavy shroud:-
1. Master Bai Zhen, the Azure Dragon of the Cloud Piercing Sect – Known as the most formidable swordsman, his blade was said to split mountains and part the seas. Now, his azure robe was torn, his legendary sword shattered and discarded at his feet. His face was pale, and his eyes were filled with a mix of fury and disbelief.
2. Lady Hua Ying, the Crimson Phoenix of the Scarlet Flame Pavilion – A fearsome woman renowned for her mastery over fire arts, her presence alone could incinerate armies. Her fiery red hair was now matted with blood, her flame no longer burned bright, and her once proud posture was hunched and defeated.
3. Grandmaster Lu Shen, the Unbreakable Shield of the Iron Wall Fortress – Revered for his impenetrable defenses and unmatched strength, he had never been bested in combat. Now, his armor was dented, cracked, and his massive shield lay broken beside him. The fortress that once stood unbreakable was now crumbled.
4. Sage Xian Wu, the Serene Master of the Waterfall Temple – A master of water manipulation, his every move flowed like a river, unyielding and powerful. But now, his blue robes were soaked with his own blood, and his gentle eyes were clouded with pain.
5. Daoist Yue Tian, the Celestial Thunder of the Storm's Eye Sect – A cultivator who commanded the very storms, his power was said to rival that of the heavens. His robes, once adorned with streaks of lightning, were now singed and torn, and the electric spark that had once been his signature was nowhere to be seen.
6. Lady Jin Mei, the Lotus Saint of the Blooming Orchid Sect – Known for her deadly elegance and poisonous arts, her beauty was matched only by her lethality. Now, her face was bruised, her pristine robes stained, and the deadly petals that once bloomed at her command were withered.
7. The Silent Monk, Wu Chen of the Temple of Still Waters – His fists could crush boulders and silence the fiercest enemies, but now, he sat with one leg twisted unnaturally, his silent meditation broken by the agony that wracked his body.
8. Lord Feng Qing, the Ice Emperor of the Frozen Peaks Sect – A master of ice, his cold aura could freeze armies in their tracks. Now, he shivered, not from the cold, but from the fear that had gripped his soul, his frost-covered hands trembling as his power slipped away.
9. Matriarch Lan Xia, the Shadow Weaver of the Midnight Moon Sect – Mistress of illusions and shadows, her deceptive arts were second to none. But now, the shadows that once obeyed her command lay still, and her once cunning smile was replaced by the strain of battle.
*****
And the Seven Celestials:-
1. Liang Jian, the Sword Celestial – Wielder of the mythical sword said to have been forged by the stars themselves. He knelt with his head bowed, his celestial blade shattered beyond repair, his pride in ruins.
2. Tai Yang, the Sun Celestial – A master of solar flames, he was once a radiant figure whose mere presence could blind. Now, his robes were charred, his light dimmed to a mere flicker, as if the sun itself had been snuffed out.
3. Yue Lan, the Moon Celestial – A beautiful figure draped in shimmering silks, her illusions were like moonlit dreams. But now, her face was marred with blood, her presence faded to a faint glow.
4. Qin Zhi, the Celestial Beast Tamer – A cultivator who commanded legendary beasts, creatures that had long been thought extinct. But now, his companions were dead, and he was alone, clutching the tattered remnants of his once-proud status.
5. Mei Rong, the Celestial Alchemist – Creator of elixirs that could heal the gravest wounds or grant unimaginable power. Her hands, once delicate and precise, were now stained with blood, her precious vials shattered and useless at her feet. The alchemical prowess that had once brought her fame was now reduced to nothing but glass shards and spilled potions.
6. Zephyr Fang, the Wind Celestial – Known for his control over the very winds, able to summon gales that could tear apart mountains. Now, his robes were in tatters, fluttering weakly as if the wind itself had forsaken him. His breath was ragged, each gasp a reminder of his fall from grace.
7. Xing Hao, the Star Celestial – Navigator of cosmic energies, his sight was said to reach beyond the stars, manipulating the flow of celestial power. He now knelt broken, his celestial map torn and crumpled beside him, the stars that once guided him now shrouded in darkness.
*****
These were the paragons of cultivation, the leaders who had once stood at the peak of the world, each wielding powers that defied comprehension. They were the protectors of the realms, the guardians of ancient secrets, and yet here they were, broken and humbled before a single man.
Cheon Dan's indifferent gaze never wavered. He looked at them not as threats or equals, but as nuisances that he had already dealt with. The weight of his aura was oppressive, and even as the greatest cultivators of their era, they could do nothing but kneel, their pride shattered alongside their bodies.
Feng Liang's heart pounded as he tried to grasp the enormity of what he was witnessing. This was Cheon Dan... the very same man he had spoken with in the cave. A man who, not long ago, could not even sense Qi. And now, he was unrivaled, sitting atop the corpses of hundreds of millions as though it were his throne.
The sheer power gap between him and these legendary figures was staggering. Mahayana realm cultivators... those who had transcended mortality, who could command the elements, reshape the land, and wield celestial forces... were nothing in the face of Cheon Dan. It wasn't just a battle of strength... it was a display of dominance that had shattered the very balance of the world.
Feng Liang felt a wave of conflicting emotions. Awe, fear, disbelief, and a deep, unrelenting sadness. Cheon Dan's rise had come at the cost of so many lives. It was impossible to look at the kneeling patriarchs and not feel the weight of the world's pain and loss.
"These were once the world's greatest defenders," Feng Liang thought, his mind racing. "And now, they are nothing more than prisoners before a man who used to be like me... desperate, powerless, struggling to find his place in a world that rejected him. How... how did he come this far?"
As if sensing Feng Liang's turmoil, the scene around him began to shift. The blood-soaked battlefield blurred, the kneeling patriarchs and Cheon Dan's imposing figure fading into a mist of red and gray. The air grew cold, the stench of blood giving way to a heavy, suffocating silence.
Feng Liang blinked, trying to make sense of the sudden change. But as he looked around, he realized there was nothing. No bodies, no sky, no ground... just an endless expanse of blank, white void stretching infinitely in every direction.
He was alone.
Or so he thought.
Out of the empty whiteness, a figure began to materialize, taking shape slowly and deliberately. Cheon Dan appeared before him once more, but this time, he was not sitting atop a throne of corpses.
He stood, his posture relaxed, his expression unreadable as he looked at Feng Liang with those dark, piercing eyes. There was no blood on his hands, no signs of battle. Just the calm, commanding presence of a man who had seen too much.
Cheon Dan's lips curled into a faint smile, a mix of melancholy and amusement. His voice broke the silence, echoing in the emptiness.
"So, how does my life look to you?" Cheon Dan asked, his tone carrying both weariness and a quiet pride. He crossed his arms, his gaze steady as he watched Feng Liang closely.
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