The narrow basalt gorge leading into the mist-shrouded swamp was quiet, save for the howling mountain wind. Black mud squelched under the heavy, synchronized boots of twenty-three cultivators clad in pale-blue ice-silk armor.
At the head of the column marched three elders of the Nether-Frost Sect—the dominant power of the Shadow-Veil Realm's eastern territories. Their faces were grim, their aura signatures hovering at the absolute peak of Late-Stage Foundation Establishment.
"Keep your eyes open," Elder Chen, the lead scout, ordered coldly, his voice laced with frosted spiritual energy. "The spatial beacon for the Abyssal Lotus Grotto flickered and died minutes ago. Either the ancient array collapsed... or someone breached it before us."
"Impossible, Senior Brother," Elder Guan sneered, resting his hand on the hilt of a frost-tempered longsword. "Only our sect possessed the ancestral key map. No rogue trash in this desolate borderland has the strength to shatter a Golden-Core barrier without raising an alarm."
Above them, perched silently on the jagged, sulfur-stained cliffs overlooking the gorge, Clone Three—the Assassin—hung in complete shadow. His pale, slitted pupils tracked the exact movement vector of every disciple below.
Through the shared neural bridge, Clone Eighteen (the Soul Collector) and Clone Twenty-Three (the Beast Master) took their positions at the rear exit of the canyon.
"Perimeter locked," the Assassin communicated through the mental link. "Fate Weaver has severed their karmic feedback. No emergency transmission will breach this canyon."
"Begin," Lylin’s voice resonated coldly from thirty miles away in the Sinkhole Sanctuary.
The Beast Master raised his dark wooden flute and blew a low, sub-audible frequency directly into the subterranean rock.
BOOM.
The canyon floor shattered. Forty armored Obsidian Salamanders erupted from the basalt mud like a tide of living magma. Their thirty-foot bodies slammed into the middle of the Nether-Frost formation, spewing white-hot torrents of molten rock. Cryo-shield arrays shattered instantly under the thermal shock, and screams of agony echoed off the stone walls as six elite disciples were incinerated in seconds.
"An ambush!" Elder Chen roared, drawing his ice-crystal saber. "Form the Frost-Guard Array! Kill the beasts!"
Before the elders could deploy their defensive formation, the Assassin dropped from the sky like a fallen star.
PHASE.
The Assassin materialized in the dead space between Elder Guan and his junior elder. A blade forged of solid, refined shadow sliced through Elder Guan’s neck before the man could even channel his spiritual energy. Head and body parted ways in a fountain of crimson that froze instantly in the ambient cold.
"Guan!" Elder Chen shrieked, his face turning pale with absolute horror. "Who are you?!"
The Assassin did not answer. He vanished back into the mist as Clone Twenty-Two—the Siege Breaker—leaped into the canyon from the opposite ridge, slamming his twin gravity war-hammers into the canyon floor.
FORTRESS CRUSH.
A localized wave of thirty-fold gravity slammed down upon the surviving disciples and Elder Chen. Their knees buckled, bone fractures snapped loudly through the canyon, and their spiritual seas collapsed under the sheer, unyielding physical weight.
Clone Eighteen stepped slowly into the blood-soaked gorge, his chained iron tome floating before him, glowing with an unholy, pale-blue flame.
SOUL HARVEST.
Translucent, screaming blue phantoms were dragged forcibly from the dying bodies of the Nether-Frost elders and disciples, flowing in a continuous stream into the open pages of the iron book.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION:
AMBUSH COMPLETE: NETHER-FROST EXPEDITION ANNIHILATED.
TARGETS ELIMINATED: 3 LATE FOUNDATION ELDERS, 20 ELITE DISCIPLES.
SOUL HARVEST YIELD: +850 ENERGY UNITS.
STORAGE RINGS CLAIMED: HIGH-GRADE ICE-CRYSTAL ORES, NETHER-FROST SECT MAPS, AND 12,000 SPIRIT CRYSTALS.
Back in the Sinkhole Sanctuary, Lylin sat cross-legged atop his obsidian dais, holding the dark-purple Nine-Leaf Abyssal Lotus in his right hand. The immense energy of the lotus, combined with the fresh harvest from the massacre, pulsed through his meridians.
His Foundation Establishment core burned with golden, liquid fire.
"The Nether-Frost Sect will find only a crushed canyon and a collapsed spatial rift," Lylin murmured, his eyes burning with a terrifying, absolute confidence. "By the time they realize their elders are dead... I will be standing in the Golden Core realm."