Heaven Trampling Severance

The air within the Black Mist Auction hall hung heavy with gasps of awe and wonder, whispers following Chen Tian's perceived idiocy, and cynical laughter dismissing him as a country bumpkin. Yet, for Elder Zhao, now seated in his hidden, velvet-lined private box, all those sounds were but a disturbing melody, unsettling his focus.

His cup of tea lay forgotten, cooling, its thin steam vanishing into the rich yet bitter spiritual aromas that filled the air. His withered, yet still robust, fingers slowly tapped the gold-plated armrest, their rhythm like the ancient ticking of a clock counting down to an inevitable fate.

His gaze was fixed upon the red-haired youth in the corner, his slender silhouette and drab black robe appearing so… ordinary, almost transparent.

A Gold Grade Beast Essence Bead? Elder Zhao's mind, a trove of wisdom and cunning accumulated over centuries of cultivation, spun rapidly, dissecting every variable. It was not the bead itself that shocked him—he had witnessed far grander, rarer treasures traded within this very Black Mist Auction, bought and sold by cultivators whose realms soared beyond even the Martial Grandmasters. What held him spellbound was… the insane decision the youth had made.

Trading a rare gem of immense value, a coveted ticket into the underworld's dominion, for a piece of scrap metal that even a beggar would scorn to pluck from a gutter. Was it an absolute, indescribable folly, or a stroke of genius he had never once witnessed in his long existence?

Elder Zhao's eyes, as if forged from ancient, time-worn ice, narrowed to mere slits, piercing the youth with terrifying intensity. He had tasted a thousand Qis, sensed a thousand different auras, unraveling the threads of destiny from every cultivator who had passed beneath his authority as a senior Martial Grandmaster of the Iron Dragon Sect. And when the severely damaged sword fragment trembled faintly in the youth's hand, a strange, ancient, yet fragile vibration resonated through him. That tremor, cold as the touch of death yet holding the pulse of defiance from ancient life, was an anomaly he did not recognize.

It was not Qi, at least not in the common understanding he knew. There was an aura of ruin, like the breath from a newly opened ancient tomb, yet also a faint primordial essence, like a whisper from an age long dead, an era existing only in forgotten legends. Something was there. Something that even he, with centuries of experience identifying artifacts and cultivators, could not precisely discern. And it made him uneasy. A rarely felt disquiet crept up his spine, cold and sharp, like an ice blade slicing through the darkness.

"Find him," he murmured to the rigid guard standing beside him, a Peak Stage Martial Master named Li Feng. Elder Zhao's voice was low, almost a whisper, yet it carried an undeniable command, like thunder rolling in the chasm's depths, shaking the air within the narrow box.

"Do not let him leave this city. Find his tracks, investigate his background. I wish to know everything about that red-haired youth and, more importantly, from where he acquired that Gold Bead."

Li Feng nodded silently, his form seemingly wrought of shadows that merged with the gloom. Without a single word, he darted away, his efficient movements making barely a sound. His body vanished from sight even before Elder Zhao's last whisper faded into the air, as if he were a phantom dispatched by darkness itself.

Elder Zhao leaned back in his comfortable chair, yet his mind still spun furiously, like the gears of fate beginning to turn. The Iron Dragon Sect disliked variables. Stone-Gloom City, with its eternal mist and shadows of criminality, lay firmly within their grasp, a dominion they had forged over centuries.

Every major transaction, every rising faction, every powerful individual entering their domain, had to be under strict surveillance, controlled, or eliminated. This youth, with his strange actions and perplexing aura, was an unexpected ripple in a long-calm pond, a ripple threatening to ignite a greater wave.

That sword fragment… Elder Zhao mused, his eyes closing for a moment. He knew of ancient legends concerning divine artifacts shattered in epic battles of the past, conflicts that reshaped the cosmos. The remaining fragments, though broken and diminished in much of their original might, often contained unforeseen power or essence, waiting to be reawakened.

Yet, for a Martial Adept cultivator, even if it were a fragment of a legendary artifact, to trade it for a Gold Grade Beast Essence Bead was an act that, on the surface, defied all reason. The Gold Grade Bead itself was a treasure, a vital resource for cultivation, particularly at the Martial Adept or even Master realm, capable of accelerating one's cultivation manifold.

"Unless," he murmured softly, his voice like the whisper of wind among ruins, "he knows something we do not. Or he has someone whispering to him from the shadows."

That second possibility was what disturbed Elder Zhao the most. If this youth was merely a pawn controlled by a larger, hidden entity, an unknown puppet master, it could pose a far greater threat to the Iron Dragon Sect's dominance in Stone-Gloom. Elder Zhao's eyes pierced the darkness, as if trying to peer into every crevice and corner of the hall, searching for shadows that might stir beyond his observation, seeking invisible threads that might connect the youth to hidden powers.

Several minutes elapsed. The auction continued, with more conventional and valuable items selling at high prices. The voices of the auctioneer and bidders filled the air, yet for Elder Zhao, it was all but background noise. His focus remained on the red-haired youth. Then, he sensed a shift. A small Qi signature moved through the crowd. The youth was stirring.

"Li Feng," he murmured, though he knew his guard was long gone, already rushing to execute his command. He activated his Martial Soul. On his wrist, instead of the usual beast or weapon-shaped Martial Soul, there appeared the faint etching of the Raven's Eye Martial Soul, a solitary raven's eye emitting a dim, silvery glow. The eye possessed no physical form, merely a mystical, swirling symbol, yet it was renowned as the finest tracking and information-gathering Martial Soul in all of Tengjian Province.

With this Martial Soul, Elder Zhao could sense even the faintest Qi fluctuations throughout Stone-Gloom City, and even several miles beyond.

He felt the youth moving toward the exit, slipping past the stationed guards. His Qi flow was faint, expertly concealed, a sign of unusual skill. He masked his aura well. Not like an impulsive, careless village bumpkin. This was intriguing, and perilous.

Elder Zhao channeled more Qi into his Martial Soul. The raven's eye spun faster, projecting a faint image of the darkened Stone-Gloom City in his mind. He saw the youth's Qi signature moving swiftly through the dark passage underground, then emerging into the temple ruins above.

"He does not delay,"

Elder Zhao murmured, a hint of impression in his tone. "Clever."

Then, he saw it. A different flash of Qi, faster, higher. The youth's Qi signature shot into the sky, leaving a faint yet swift Qi trail that cut through the night's darkness.

"A flying sword!" Elder Zhao hissed, his palm slamming the armrest with uncontrolled force, pure shock flashing across his usually rigid face.

"Where did he acquire that flying sword?! I am certain the auctioneer made no mention of it as part of the bid… Unless it was a secret gift? But why?"

His Raven's Eye Martial Soul widened. He watched the pinpoint diminish, speeding northward at a startling pace for a Martial Adept. The boy was not only cunning, he was also fortunate, or… he had planned this, anticipating every move his adversaries would make. Frustration began to creep into Elder Zhao, a bitter taste he rarely experienced. He had underestimated the youth.

A Spirit-Forged Grade Martial Weapon as a gift? A hidden insult from the Iron Dragon Sect itself to the "foolish" bidder had instead become wings for their unknown foe, granting him a freedom he should not possess. The irony tasted bitter on his tongue, like venom creeping down his throat.

He growled, his fist clutching the velvet-lined armrest.

"Send more men! All tracking units! Focus on that Qi signature! He cannot run that far!"

The next few minutes were an intense dance of pursuit, a game of cat and mouse in the night sky. Elder Zhao sat upright, his Raven's Eye Martial Soul glowing brightly, projecting a complex Qi map in his mind. He directed several of the Iron Dragon Sect's finest tracking units—Martial Masters and a few Martial Grandmasters specializing in pursuit—to sweep the northern skies of Stone-Gloom City, forming an invisible net.

Below him, from various points within Stone-Gloom City, he could sense stronger Qi waves shooting into the air, forming a vast search grid. However, each time they drew near, the youth's Qi signature would dive sharply, or conceal itself behind the natural formations of dense mountains and thick forests. The boy maintained a cunning altitude, not too high to attract the attention of Martial Lords who could detect from afar, yet high enough to evade slower-moving Martial Masters on the ground. He moved with suspicious grace, as if he were already accustomed to aerial maneuvers.

"Damn him!"

Elder Zhao hissed, his fist pounding the armrest.

"He learns quickly. Or he has guidance. Who whispered this escape strategy to him? Who dares to challenge the Iron Dragon Sect's dominance from the shadows?"

The suspicion of an older, more knowledgeable entity's existence once again haunted him, fueling his doubts.

The youth's Qi trail gradually faded, moving further north, beyond the Iron Dragon Sect's primary sphere of influence. The mist aura of Stone-Gloom slowly dissipated, replaced by wilder mountain air and pure natural energy.

Finally, after approximately an hour of intense searching, the Qi signature vanished completely, as if swallowed by the earth, hidden behind natural formations too complex for his trackers to penetrate from a distance.

Elder Zhao closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to quell the storm of rage raging in his chest. His Raven's Eye Martial Soul dimmed, weariness settling into his mind. The youth had escaped. For now.

"Report the situation!" he commanded another guard who had just arrived, his face pale.

"Elder Zhao," the guard said, his voice strained, cold sweat trickling down his temples. "We… we lost his trail. He moved too swiftly and then vanished into the largely uncharted northern mountain region. That area is known to possess strong natural formations that can interfere with Qi tracking…"

"Silence!"

Elder Zhao snapped, his voice cold and sharp as a piercing ice blade.

"There are no excuses! He cannot simply vanish! Deploy ground forces into that territory! Send our best reconnaissance teams! Every village, every cave, every suspicious mountain peak must be thoroughly searched! I care not how many resources it requires! I want that youth found! Dead or alive!"

He stood, his aura now emanating the furious pressure of a Martial Grandmaster, a power capable of making mountains tremble. The entire box seemed to vibrate under his wrath. The Raven's Eye Martial Soul on his wrist flickered, as if mirroring its master's vexation.

"And ensure this auction proceeds normally. No one is to know we deployed such a massive force for a mere Martial Adept," he added, his voice returning to its flat tone, yet more menacing, filled with deadly warning.

"This is a disgrace to the Iron Dragon Sect. And anyone who fails in this task will pay the price in blood."

Elder Zhao stepped out of his box, leaving the auction hall to its false merriment, where the participants remained unaware of the storm that had just been unleashed outside.

He walked through the same dark corridor that Chen Tian had traversed moments before, but with a vastly different purpose. He headed to the central headquarters of the Iron Dragon Sect, deep beneath Stone-Gloom City. He had to report this. To those who sat far above him. The elder ancients, and most importantly, to the Sect Master himself.

A useless sword fragment. A Gold Grade Beast Essence Bead. The speed of a flying sword. A bewildering aura. All the puzzle pieces refused to fit. A new thread of destiny had just emerged, a thread promising a tempest for the Iron Dragon Sect's dominance. Elder Zhao knew. This hunt had only just begun. And he would not allow his prey to escape so easily. Not within the Iron Dragon Sect's dominion.

In the depths of the Iron Dragon Sect's headquarters, a dark hall with a colossal dragon statue forged from solid black iron loomed. Several potent auras that had long been concealed, their realms surpassing even Martial Grandmasters, now began to stir, like predators just awakened from their slumber. They had felt the same ripple. A small ripple caused by a youth considered foolish, yet bearing the potential for ruin.

"A small Martial Adept dares to challenge the Iron Dragon Sect?" A heavy, ancient voice echoed in the hall, its sound seemingly originating from the earth's core, shaking the stone pillars.

"Find him. And bring him back alive. I wish to know the secret behind the 'trash' he purchased, and the 'luck' that carried him this far. This is a lesson he must learn."

A golden trace in the night had been left behind, and far greater predators now unsheathed their fangs. The true battle had begun.