Modern Patriarch

Yao Shen’s eyes snapped open, his expression composed as he slowly sat up— the bed of clouds underneath him shifting to accommodate the weight. Only a few hours had passed since he had turned in for the night, but there was no trace of grogginess reflected upon his sharp features.

Without dithering any further, Yao Shen got up from the bed and moved towards the eastern side of the room, reaching for the handle of an antiquated, wooden almirah. A selection of fine robes greeted his sight, arrayed in a neat row and ordered by color. His gaze lingered on a set of azure robes, an exact duplicate of the one he was presently wearing, that represented his allegiance to the Heavenly Sky Sect.

Had it been any other day, he would have donned a fresh pair of azure robes without a second thought. Perhaps he would have even chosen to make his grand entrance seated upon Cumulus, an artifact that symbolized the seat of the Heavenly Sky Sect’s Patriarch and his indomitable might— for it was an honor bestowed only to the most powerful cultivator of each generation.

However, for better or worse, Yao Shen represented the Heavenly Sky Sect no longer. His gaze shifted to a set of satin, pure white robes, a color unadorned by the three major sects of the Azlak Plains. A part of him was instinctively drawn to the color, bearing resemblance to the transient, milky white Human Qi that swirled within his soul lake— while not a perfect representation, it would serve his purposes well.

Yao Shen channelled some Water Qi to cleanse his body, before changing into the new set of robes. He walked a few steps in the direction of the wall mirror, pausing as his reflection came into sight— the satin white robes complimented Yao Shen’s sharp, angular features, adding an air of disarming purity to his otherwise intimidating presence. In that moment, he knew that he had found the sect colors— for now, the unclaimed satin-white would represent his Human Dao, but one day Yao Shen hoped that it would come to represent the humanity of the Modern Sect.

‘Gather’ Yao Shen thought, and Cumulus rushed to his side— the floating clouds enveloping him from all directions.

‘Re-form,’ he commanded, and a second later the clouds began to rapidly compress, until Yao Shen’s figure emerged from within— a flowing, weightless white cloak and a pair of cloud boots concluding his outfit.

Finally, he withdrew a sheathed sword from his spatial ring and securely tied it to his waist, before exiting his personal abode. On his way down, he instructed Shadow, who was the only one that chose to cultivate instead of sleeping, to stay within the tower's bounds along with her fellow disciples until his return. He did not expect anything to go awry in his brief absence, but it was always better to tread on the side of caution.

Since the last of his concerns were addressed, Yao Shen exited the tower. He was not surprised to see a small contingent comprising of Zhou Hui, Meili Zhu and Jie Tang awaiting his presence, likely chosen to accompany him as representatives of the Heavenly Sky Sect while the others stayed behind in order to defend the Sect’s interests.

After exchanging a few pleasantries, they quietly departed the sect.

The wind buffetted Yao Shen’s face as his silhouette flitted across the sky, closely accompanied by the sect elders. If Zhou Hui and the others were surprised by the color he chose to wear on this historic day, they hid it well; perhaps having already expected something in a similar vein.

As they grew nearer to their destination, his thoughts inevitably wandered in the direction of the upcoming battle. There were only a few methods Yao Shen could employ against such a powerful force, and even then it would be a complex fight— his Human Dao Domain was perfectly suited to a battle of attrition, and even though he had yet to fully incorporate his three Major Daos into his patchwork domain, it boasted of an entirely different level of capability now. If he alternated between the two, he would eventually attain a glacial, but likely victory.

However, Yao Shen knew that such a victory would only ring hollow. The foundation of a Sect was the very first entry in any Sect’s records, and as the challenger, his objective had always been complete and absolute domination— to let his reputation act as a deterrent against those that held nefarious intent towards their sect and serve as the binding that unified the Modern Sect.

He cut his musings short as his destination came into sight, the charred ground that bore the mark of heavenly tribulation unmistakably the site of his ascension. There were no words exchanged as they began their descent, gently landing upon the ground; opposing the congregation of cultivators dressed in red, brown and grey robes.

The aged men and women in grey robes started walking in their direction, led by Zixin Ren who stood at the very forefront— his expression carefree and relaxed, despite having spent the last twenty four hours in enemy territory. They took their places at the back of their small contingent without uttering a single word, content to watch the chaos unfold for now.

“Patriarch Yao Shen,” A cultivator dressed in vibrant red robes stepped forward, his expression firm and his jaw held taut from tension. “As per the agreement between our sects, the Sacred Flame Palace and the Divine Mountain Sect has arrived today to accept your challenge," Patriarch Lei Weiyuan of the Sacred Flame Palace loudly proclaimed, attracting the attention of all the elders in attendance.

Yao Shen’s gaze fell upon the lone core formation guardian that stood a distance away from the elders of the two sects, a peak quality communication mirror held in his hand that was beyond anything available in the Azlak Plains.

‘Interesting,’ Yao Shen mused, forming a vague idea of the ploy the two sects were formulating.

Patriarch Kang Long of the Divine Mountain Sect stepped forth next, in solidarity with his fellow sect leader. “Patriarch Yao Shen, you shall meet the combined force of our two sects in combat without any assistance from the elders of the Heavenly Sky Sect. This duel shall be fought until one side yields or is unable to fight any longer. If you win, all the elders present from both our sects shall swear an oath of first betrayal to the Modern Sect. In the event that you lose, you will swear an oath upon your honor to grant the Divine Mountain Sect and the Sacred Flame Palace independence for the next hundred years. Are those terms amenable to you, Patriarch Yao Shen?” he asked, failing in his attempts to conceal the tension in his voice.

Yao Shen immediately understood their gambit, a last-ditch attempt to preserve their autonomy. The Sects in attendance may have deeply flawed systems, but Yao Shen had never forgotten that they were heavily skewed in favor of those in attendance. No tyrant wished to cede power, and by broadcasting this fight to what Yao Shen suspected was one of the eastern righteous path sects, they had brought his reputation into play. Once he accepted, he would not be able to renege upon the terms of the agreement without dire consequences.

“I accept,” Yao Shen’s voice boomed out with confidence, a small smile resting on his face as he stared down a force that alone had the ability to devastate the Azlak Plains.

The two Patriarchs, along with each of the elders in presence repeated those words. Zhou Hui and the other elders retreated until they were a distant dot in the sky, while the core formation cultivator continued recording, albeit from a greater distance.

Soon, only Yao Shen and twelve elders from each sect were remaining, including Patriarchs Kang and Lei.

One of the elders stepped forward, withdrawing a large hourglass from his storage ring and placing it in the middle of the two parties. There was no explanation needed as the cultivators present focused an insignificant strand of their divine sense upon the hourglass, registering each grain of sand trickle down into its lower half.

The elders unsheathed their weapons, a collection of primarily swords, followed by sabres, spears, axes and a solitary greatbow. The elders began cycling their Qi in tandem with each other, in order to burst out with the pinnacle of their strength the moment the final grain of sand tumbled down the hourglass, and Yao Shen did not miss the protective rings, amulets and talismans they wore or carried upon their person, a single sweep of his divine sense revealing all.

The elders clearly did not intend for this to be a long, drawn out battle, and that was fine with Yao Shen. He made no attempt to draw his weapon, simply content to cycle his Qi as he mentally prepared himself for what came next.

The tension in the air grew with every passing second, their experience the only thing that allowed the elders to maintain their stoic expressions in face of a force they could not claim to fully understand.

Finally, the last grain of sand trickled down the hourglass.

The elders had considered many factors in their attempts to anticipate their foe’s opening move, but they were all astounded when they met Yao Shen’s hollow gaze, before he collapsed backwards, like a puppet whose strings had been severed.

No one present could explain what happened, and the two Patriarchs present were equally confounded. However, none present believed that a Soul Emperor could be subdued so easily, and for a majority of them it was too late to recant their attacks.

With a stomp of his foot, an elder reshaped the Earth into sharp spikes and sent them flying in Yao Shen’s direction.

Another elder rapidly slashed out with his thin, curved sword, sending a succession of Fire Blades precisely aimed at Yao Shen’s chest.

The greatbow user released the solitary arrow he carried, its body constructed entirely of a dense grey metal and easily boasting ten times the thickness of a normal arrow. The tip of the arrow burst into flames, as it whizzed off towards its target.

All these attacks blended together to form the first wave of attacks they had prepared, a melange of Fire, Earth, Darkness and Wind Qi devastating everything that stood in its path to Yao Shen.

The elders were shocked as their attacks continued unimpeded, Yao Shen’s body simply lying upon the ground as if it had been discarded.

When merely five meters separated Yao Shen from certain death, the elder’s shock transformed into incredulity. Without their domains, this was the most powerful attack the elders were capable of unleashing. It was as if the wave of devastation they had met a force field or an invisible wall of some sort— the metallic arrow harmlessly bouncing off before it could even get close to harming Yao Shen, the Fire Blades spreading across the seemingly flat surface of the ‘wall’ before fizzling out and the Earth Spikes simply shattering upon contact.

The attacks had failed in their original purpose, but as the smoke from the aftermath of the attack cleared, a vague silhoutte was revealed.

The Elder who was closest to Yao Shen faltered in his charge, the sword held in his hands trembling as he craned his neck to make eye contact with the one protecting Yao Shen.

A ten foot tall ghastly, translucent giant towered over the elder, bearing an unmistakable resemblance to Yao Shen— A gentle blue halo outlined the giant’s silhouette, giving the impression that the translucent robes that covered its body, an exact replica of the one’s Yao Shen wore, were light blue instead.

“Impossible… Impossible…,” The Elder whispered under his breath, instinctively knowing that Yao Shen had chosen to engage in combat directly with his soul. His own Nascent Soul bore resemblance to a mortal infant that rested in his dantian region, and it had had no ability to assume a physical from— although that gave it superb mobility, any Qi-based attack at the Nascent Soul level could easily shatter his soul. To cultivate to an extent where the soul becomes solid…. It was simply unfathomable.

The Elder’s willpower clamped down on his desire to flee, as he refused to break eyecontact with Yao Shen.

The next instant, Yao Shen let out a deafening roar— releasing a concentrated blast of divine sense in all directions, in its most potent, unrestrained form.

The Elder had prepared many weaker artifacts that guarded against divine sense attacks, but they all shattered at the same time. He made a conscious effort to shield his soul from the torrent of divine sense that battered against it, but it was like a mortal trying to swim against the tide— a foolishly brave, but ultimately futile effort.

Only two words echoed in his mind before he lost consciousness, two words that carved a deep fear and reverence into his heart:

‘Soul Emperor’