The sky above the Jia Nan Academy, usually a pristine blue, had turned a sickly, bruised shade of purple. A massive array—the [Heaven-Locking Blood Grid]—had been cast over the mountain basin, cutting off the Academy's communication with the outside world.
At the academy's main gates, the situation was dire. First Elder Su Qian stood suspended in the air, his grey robes fluttering in a violent wind. Opposite him stood Mo Tian Xing, the Sect Leader of the Black Emperor Sect, and beside him, a figure shrouded in a cloak of writhing black fog that seemed to swallow the very light around it.
"Su Qian," Mo Tian Xing's voice boomed, amplified by his 4-Star Dou Zong cultivation. "Hand over the two Xiao brats and the secrets of the tower, and we will leave the academy grounds. Refuse, and today the Jia Nan Academy becomes a mausoleum."
"The Xiao Clan is under our protection," Su Qian replied, though his voice held a trace of strain. He was looking at the cloaked figure—a Protector of the Hall of Souls. "Since when did the Black Emperor Sect become a lapdog for those soul-reaping ghosts?"
"In this world, Elder, there are no lapdogs—only survivors," the cloaked figure rasped. His voice sounded like metal grinding on bone. "Hand over the 'Key' to the Xiao Clan's ancient secrets, or I will harvest every soul in this valley."
The Pan Gate Vanguard
On the ground, the freshmen and seniors had formed a desperate defensive line. Xiao Yan stood at the center, the Green Lotus Core Flame (the sub-fire given by Chen) coating his Heavy Xuan Ruler.
"They're coming!" Wu Hao shouted, pointing to a swarm of mercenaries and Blood Sect disciples rushing the barricades.
"Pan Gate! Hold the line!" Xiao Yan roared. He swung his ruler, a wave of green fire incinerating the first ten attackers. But for every one he killed, ten more appeared. The "Anti-Academy Alliance" had brought thousands of fighters.
Xiao Yan looked toward the Archive mountain. "Chen... where are you? If you don't come soon, there won't be an academy left to study in."
The Library's Silent Opening
At that moment, a soft click echoed from the peak of the Archive mountain.
It wasn't a loud explosion. It was the sound of a spatial seal being gently folded. Xiao Chen stepped out of the darkness of the archives. He looked different—taller, his presence so dense that the air around him hummed with a 16x-multiplied frequency.
He looked up at the purple grid in the sky and sighed.
"Inefficient," Chen whispered. "The geometry of this array is full of flaws."
He didn't fly. He simply took a step into the air. With his 16x Physicality, he didn't need wings; he stood on the air molecules as if they were solid stone. With a second step, he was a mile away. With a third, he was hovering directly behind Mo Tian Xing and the Soul Hall Protector.
"You know," Chen said, his voice cutting through the roar of the battle like a cold razor. "You're making a lot of noise for people who are about to become fertilizer."
The 16x Erasure
Mo Tian Xing spun around, his pupils shrinking to pinpricks. As a 4-Star Dou Zong, he should have felt someone approaching. But Chen's 16x Soul had completely masked his existence.
"Who—?! You're the kid!" Mo Tian Xing roared, his Dou Qi erupting in a wave of black energy. "Die!"
He threw a punch, a [Grand Black Emperor Palm] that could level a forest.
Chen didn't even raise his hands. He simply exhaled.
[Skill: 16x Void Compression]
The space in front of Chen contracted. Mo Tian Xing's palm attack didn't hit anything; it was sucked into a microscopic spatial rift and neutralized instantly. Before the Sect Leader could react, Chen was in his face.
Chen's finger tapped Mo Tian Xing's forehead.
Puff.
The 4-Star Dou Zong's head didn't explode; his entire body was simply vaporized by a 16x-multiplied burst of Falling Heart Flame from the inside out. One of the strongest men in the Black-Corner Region was gone in a microsecond, leaving only a puff of grey ash.
The battlefield below went into a deathly silence. The mercenaries stopped fighting. Xiao Yan looked up, his jaw dropping.
"Ancestor?!" the Soul Hall Protector hissed, his black fog roiling in agitation. "You... you are the one who took the flame! A 16-year-old Ancestor? No... your soul... it is the soul of a monster!"
Interrogating the Mist
The Protector didn't try to fight; he turned into a streak of black smoke, attempting to tear through the spatial grid to escape.
"8x was for hunting," Chen whispered, his golden-slit eyes glowing with a terrifying light. "16x is for reigning."
Chen reached out his hand and closed his fist.
[Soul Skill: 16x Chains of the Starry Void]
Sixteen chains of emerald-colored fire erupted from the vacuum of space, lashing around the black mist. The Protector screamed, a sound of pure agony as the Falling Heart Flame within the chains began to cook his ethereal form.
Chen pulled the chains, dragging the Protector down to the academy's central plaza. He landed softly, the ground beneath his feet not even cracking—a sign of his absolute 16x control.
He looked at the trapped ghost. "Tell me about the Xiao Clan's Tou She Ancient God Jade. Tell me where my ancestors' souls are being kept, and I might make your death quick."
"You... you know of the Jade?" the Protector wheezed, his fog thinning. "The Hall of Souls... is just the shadow... of the Gu Clan and the Hun Clan... You are a dead man, Xiao Chen! The world will burn to find you!"
"The world can try," Chen said, his voice flat.
He didn't kill him yet. He turned to Xiao Yan, who had run over. "Yan-er, I'm going to seal this ghost into your ring. Use his soul-essence to help Yao Lao recover. It's high-grade fuel."
Yao Lao emerged from the ring, looking at Chen with a mixture of pride and profound wariness. "Little Chen... you've reached a level where I can no longer even see your ceiling."
"There is no ceiling, Master Yao," Chen replied, looking up at the purple grid, which was now shattering as the array-master (Mo Tian Xing) was dead. "Only more doublings."
Chen looked at the remaining Alliance members. He didn't say a word. He just let out a 1% release of his 16x Soul Pressure.
The thousands of mercenaries fell to their knees, vomiting blood. The "War" was over. It hadn't been a battle; it had been a demonstration