The moon hung high over the desolate cliffs of the Broken Star Ravine, casting silver light upon jagged stones and swirling mists. Somewhere deep within that ravine, a cavern pulsated with ancient energy. It was here that Xiang Tian sat cross-legged, shrouded in radiant violet light, his entire being consumed by the torrent of power surging through him.
His meridians, once fractured and clogged from the treacherous schemes of his former sect, now thrummed with energy, refined and reborn in the crucible of pain. The Celestial Tyrant Codex had completed its seventh cycle within him, and with each breath, the cavern quaked.
"So this is what it means… to devour the heavens," he muttered.
From his back, a pair of ghostly wings unfurled—ethereal, formed of pure qi. His body no longer resembled the broken youth cast aside by the Cloud Soaring Sect. He had become something greater. Sharper. Colder.
The echo of footsteps snapped him from his trance.
Xiang Tian's eyes opened—no longer dim, but burning with an inner light that seemed to strip the world bare.
From the mist emerged a figure—tall, clad in grey robes, face obscured by a porcelain mask etched with the symbol of judgment. The mysterious cultivator moved like water over stone—silent, untraceable.
"Who are you?" Xiang Tian rose slowly.
"A shadow of the past. I came to see if the rumors were true. That the fallen disciple of the Cloud Soaring Sect survived the Execution Hollow."
Xiang Tian didn't answer.
The masked man raised a hand. "Then let us test whether you've returned as a whisper… or a storm."
Without another word, the masked cultivator dashed forward, palm glowing with an eerie green flame. Ghost Flame Palm—a technique that corroded not flesh, but soul.
Xiang Tian responded in kind. His hand surged with golden light. Tyrant's Dominion Fist.
When their strikes collided, the entire cavern shuddered.
Stone shattered. Air burst into rings of raw force. The impact blew the masked man back across the cavern, but he flipped midair, landing effortlessly on a spire of rock.
"Impressive," he said. "But incomplete. You haven't yet touched the Seventh Gate."
Xiang Tian narrowed his eyes. He had sensed it too. His newfound power, though formidable, felt… unanchored. There was still a deeper abyss waiting to be awakened.
"I don't need the Seventh Gate to break you."
With a roar, he unleashed the Tyrant's Echo—a sonic shockwave technique that shattered illusions and fractured spirit-based techniques. The masked man's Ghost Flame was extinguished in an instant.
But Xiang Tian wasn't finished.
Channeling the Crimson Root of Heaven, his right arm glowed blood-red. With each step, the ground cracked. When he struck again, the sheer force sent the masked cultivator flying through the cavern wall, into the night air beyond.
Xiang Tian leapt after him.
Outside, beneath the moon, the two hovered in the sky—masters of qi, balanced between heaven and earth.
The masked man coughed blood but steadied himself. "You've grown. But do not forget… you are not the only one who was wronged by the sects."
With a flick of his wrist, dozens of talismans exploded from his sleeves. Each bore ancient sigils—seals designed to suppress divine bloodlines.
They surrounded Xiang Tian, forming a cage of suppression.
The masked man smirked. "Let's see you rage now, Tyrant."
But Xiang Tian merely closed his eyes.
"I told you," he whispered. "I don't rage. I conquer."
A pulse of golden light erupted from his body. The talismans burned to ash. The air itself bent under the weight of his qi.
The masked man's confidence vanished.
"You… You've begun unlocking the Celestial Gate…"
Xiang Tian's body began to transform—his aura expanding, his presence pressing down like a divine force. In that moment, he wasn't just a cultivator. He was a calamity.
With a single strike, he shattered the masked man's core suppressor. The force sent the man tumbling into the mountain side, unconscious.
Floating above, Xiang Tian looked down at his hand.
The Seventh Gate… was near.
But his time here had ended.
He turned his eyes toward the distant peaks of the Cloud Soaring Sect.
"You cast me down. Now… I'll rise higher than your heavens."
—
Meanwhile, in the Cloud Soaring Sect...
Elder Mu paced the inner courtyard, surrounded by anxious disciples. Rumors had spread like wildfire—Xiang Tian's name whispered like a ghost story. Some claimed he'd devoured a Spirit Beast King in the ravines. Others believed he had formed a pact with a forbidden immortal.
A letter had arrived that morning—nailed to the sect gates.
"Your sins await reckoning. Prepare yourselves."
The Elders tried to dismiss it. But Mu knew.
He remembered the cold fury in the boy's eyes as he was dragged to Execution Hollow. He remembered the silence that followed—how not even his screams echoed back.
But they had heard nothing since.
Now… the silence felt like the calm before a storm.
Mu turned to the Sect Leader.
"Should we alert the Six Sects Alliance?"
The Sect Leader's gaze remained fixed on the horizon. "Not yet. Let the boy come. If he dares to return, we'll bury him a second time."
—
In the depths of the Hollow Sky Forest…
An old beggar walked barefoot across the ancient roots. Birds fell silent as he passed. His eyes, once clouded with age, now gleamed like stars.
"He awakens," the old man whispered. "The tyrant blood… stirs once more."
He looked up, smiling faintly.
"The heavens better prepare. Their judgment day… is coming."
—
Back at the Ravine, Xiang Tian stood atop a cliff.
His robe fluttered in the wind. In his hand, he held an ancient map—one he had found hidden beneath the Seventh Layer of the Celestial Tyrant Codex. It marked a path long forgotten: the Vault of Fallen Emperors.
A place where only those who had been betrayed by fate could enter.
Only by claiming the legacy of the forsaken emperors could he master the final stages of the Celestial Tyrant Codex.
He gripped the map tightly.
"I will not stop until every heaven that looked down on me is shattered."
With that vow, he leapt into the air, vanishing into the clouds.
The storm had begun.