Eternal life begins with saving my clan

Ye Zhen stood rooted to the spot, his carefully crafted plan disintegrating into dust. The world around him seemed to shift, reality distorting under the weight of the unexpected.

He, who had envisioned himself as a hero, now felt like a clown, his grand entrance reduced to a mere blip in the grand scheme of things.

His carefully chosen words, designed to provoke and challenge, now tasted like ash in his mouth.

The arrogant statement from Ai on the podium amplified his humiliation, turning him into a laughingstock in the eyes of the crowd.

His carefully nurtured anger boiled over. He clenched his fists, veins bulging from his forehead like knotted cords.

His teeth ground together, the fury in his heart an inferno threatening to consume him.

"Who are you to tell me how I will survive today?" he snarled, his voice laced with scorn and barely contained rage.

"I have heard the exaggerated tales of your attendants' strength, and perhaps that is the source of your arrogance." He spat the words out, each syllable a burning ember.

"But here and now," he declared, his voice echoing through the stunned silence, "I challenge any of you to prove your worth!"

The air crackled with tension as he stood tall, his defiance a beacon against the backdrop of the crowd's hushed whispers.

It was a gamble, a desperate attempt to salvage his pride, to prove that he was not the others.

A thick, suffocating silence descended upon the crowd. The festive atmosphere had evaporated, replaced by a chilling fear that gripped everyone by their throats.

Cold sweat trickled down their backs, and those closest to Ye Zhen scrambled back, their faces contorted in terror.

The joyous event, meant to celebrate the achievements of the chosen participants, had been turned on its head by Ye Zhen's impulsive challenge.

He, who had once stood tall as a proud young master, now stood as a symbol of defiance in the face of unknown and terrifying power.

Those watching through You Connect, initially relieved they hadn't been present, now found their smiles frozen in place.

The casual joy of the event had been shattered, replaced by a chilling realization of the dangers lurking beneath the surface.

On the podium, Ai gazed at the defiant Ye Zhen. A fleeting flicker of pity crossed her features, visible only to the most observant eyes.

Just as the crowd began to question the meaning behind her expression, a horrifying object was hurled in Ye Zhen's direction.

Without a moment's hesitation, Ye Zhen launched into a defensive maneuver, anticipating a sneak attack. But as he met the object in mid-air, his eyes widened in horror.

It was the heads of the three elders who had accompanied him to the event.

Their faces, frozen in a mask of unknowing terror, revealed the brutality and speed of their demise.

Foundation Building realm experts, slain without a whisper, without a hint of warning. The sheer power of the act sent shivers down everyone's spine.

The tension in the air grew thicker, suffocating. The crowd, both present and online, felt their legs turn to jelly, their bodies wracked with fear.

How could such powerful individuals be killed without anyone noticing? What lurked in the shadows, capable of such swift and silent brutality?

Ye Zhen's heart pounded against his ribs, a terrifying orchestra conducted by fear and regret.

He stared at the lifeless faces of the fallen elders, a piercing pain tearing through his chest. His breath came in ragged gasps, sweat streaming down his face.

Ai, her voice calm and chilling, spoke again, her words echoing through the suffocating silence, "Those heads... were a reminder."

A reminder? The crowd shivered. The killing, so swift and brutal, was merely a WARNING. If this was a mere warning, what horrors would they unleash if truly enraged?

The question hung heavy in the air, a chilling reminder of the power they had dared to challenge.

"WHY!" Ye Zhen screamed, his voice cracking with rage. His eyes bulged, bloodshot and tinged with madness.

He whipped out his sword, the air crackling with the force of his unleashed aura.

The Qi Refinement people around him gasped, their faces pale as they retreated under the suffocating pressure.

But Ai remained unfazed. Her gaze, calm and serene, met Ye Zhen's storm with an unsettling tranquility.

"Can you bear the weight and responsibility of what you are about to do?" she asked, her voice as soft as a whisper yet carrying the weight of a thousand judgments.

"I'll care about that after I've killed every last one of you!" roared Ye Zhen, launching himself into the air. His sword swung in a deadly arc, poised to decimate the figures on the podium.

The crowd held their breath, curiosity and fear warring in their eyes. They yearned to witness how the Celestial Heavenly store would react to this brazen attack, yet trembled at the potential consequences of the ensuing conflict.

Ye Zhen, consumed by his rage, saw only destruction in his mind. He cared for nothing but the annihilation of the Celestial Heavenly store members.

But as he neared the podium, a silent shift occurred. The ever-composed Aiguo raised his hand, and a sliver of light, swift as a thought, shot out, piercing Ye Zhen's forehead.

For a fleeting moment, Ye Zhen's eyes widened in shock. Then, a horrifying realization dawned on him.

He had lost control. His Qi, his very life force, had slipped away from his grasp.

Panic surged through him as he desperately tried to reassert control, to command his Qi back to his will.

But it was futile. The suppression, powerful and unrelenting, swept through his meridians, invaded his dantian, and extinguished the very flame of his cultivation.

His Qi, once a potent force, lay dormant, inaccessible. His dantian, the core of his being, felt cold and empty.

With a sickening thud, Ye Zhen crashed to the ground, coughing up a mouthful of blood. His eyes, once filled with rage, now reflected the depths of his despair.

He had been crippled, his power stripped away in an instant, a stark reminder of the Celestial Heavenly store's unfathomable power.

Ai looked down at Ye Zhen, her voice ringing with chilling authority. "Before us, you are nothing," she declared, her voice dripping with unbridled pride.

"Your pathetic plan was an insult to our very existence. Any other clan might condone your insolence and childish behavior, but not us, the Celestial. We are beyond your petty reach."

Her words were like icy daggers piercing through Ye Zhen's heart. His confidence, once soaring high, plummeted to the depths of despair.

He realized the magnitude of his mistake, the futility of his challenge against an entity beyond his comprehension.

"For fifty years, your clan ruled this city," Ai continued, her voice laced with scorn, "and that, perhaps, blinded you. It inflated your ego, gave you the delusion that you could challenge us, the Celestial. But know this, Ye Zhen – your power is an illusion, a mere flicker before the storm that is our wrath."

A wave of terror surged through the crowd as they witnessed the raw display of power.

The chilling pronouncements, the effortless domination of Ye Zhen, served as a stark reminder of the Celestial's absolute authority.

Their murmurs and gasps were the only sounds that dared to break the suffocating silence.

On the ground, Ye Zhen lay sprawled, his fear etched onto his face. His eyes, once filled with defiance, were now vacant pools reflecting the abyss of his despair.

He had fallen from the heights of his arrogance to the depths of his helplessness.

His body, once a conduit of power, was now a mere puppet, its strings firmly in the hands of Aiguo.

Every attempt to move, to speak, to even plead for mercy was met with an excruciating silence, a terrifying testament to the extent of the Celestial's control.

He remembered the old man's warning, the whispered caution about the Celestial's power.

He remembered his mother's tears, her pleas for him to accept his fate. He remembered the joyous event, meant to be a celebration, turned into a stage for his downfall.

As he wallowed in his self-pity, a sound pierced through the silence, a thud that reverberated in the hearts of everyone present.

An object, hurled with an unseen force, landed with a sickening impact at Ye Zhen's feet.

Everyone held their breath, their eyes fixed on the object in morbid fascination. A cold dread settled over the crowd as the truth dawned upon them.

It was a head, a woman's head, its lifeless eyes staring blankly at the sky. And as the horror sank in, they realized it was the head of Ye Zhen's mother.

In that instant, the festive atmosphere vanished.

The event, meant to celebrate the achievements of the chosen participants, had become a macabre spectacle, a stark reminder of the consequences of defying the Celestial Heavenly store.

Ye Zhen, witnessing the brutal display of his mother's demise, could only stare in numb horror.

His heart, already burdened with guilt and despair, now felt the crushing weight of his actions. He had not only brought his own downfall but also sealed the fate of his own mother.

The silence was deafening, so thick that each person could hear the frantic pounding of their own heart.

A suffocating terror gripped the crowd, paralyzing them with fear. They longed to escape this nightmare, to flee from the chilling presence of the Celestial Heavenly store, but their feet remained rooted to the spot, bound by a dread that defied explanation.

Their eyes darted between the serene faces of the two children on the podium and the lifeless form of Ye Zhen at their feet.

The contrast was stark and unsettling, a stark reminder of the vast power disparity between the two entities.

Each face was etched into their memories, a chilling reminder of the day they witnessed the true might of the Celestial Heavenly store.

Ai, her voice calm and unwavering, broke the suffocating silence. "You," she declared, her gaze sweeping across the terrified crowd, "have been kept alive for this very purpose. Take him," she commanded, gesturing towards Ye Zhen's broken body, "and report everything to your clan."

Confusion rippled through the crowd. Who was she addressing? Who was to be the bearer of this macabre message?

As if on cue, an old man emerged from the throng of faces, his wrinkled visage awash in cold sweat.

Each step he took was shaky, not from the frailty of age, but from the unyielding grip of terror.

The sorrow and brutality he witnessed had renewed his vast experience, etching upon his soul the terrifying truth: there are forces in the world best left undisturbed, and the Celestial Heavenly store stood firmly among one of them.