High atop the Endless Sun Sect’s grand citadel, Sect Master Yuan Zhen stood at the edge of the vast balcony that overlooked the sprawling complex below. The gleaming marble halls and sunfire-bathed courtyards sprawled beneath him, bathed in the rich, golden light of the setting sun. It was a view that never failed to fill him with a sense of purpose, of divine righteousness.
He clasped his hands behind his back, his white robes fluttering lightly in the warm breeze, embroidered with the brilliant sun emblem of Bavdall, the Day God, and shining with a lustrous gold sheen in the fading light.
Yuan Zhen, a man who radiated authority, looked every bit the embodiment of the sect he ruled—the sun incarnate, glowing with divine power.
But there was something beneath the surface, a palpable tension that came from running the Endless Sun Sect that never quite left his presence. A simmering heat that always seemed to hover beneath his calm facade, like the core of a burning sun.
Behind him, a group of his most trusted Sect Elders waited in silence, their expressions a mix of awe and reverence in his presence. Among them were those who had served him faithfully for centuries, and others, more recently promoted as they quickly used their sect’s newest resource, the Sun Drops, to advance higher in cultivation.
These newer elders seemed to follow his orders with a zealotry that mirrored Yuan Zhen’s own devotion to the Day God.
As the sun began to dip below the horizon on another day, Yuan Zhen turned to face his gathered Elders, his eyes glowing with the light of a man touched by divine purpose. His voice, deep and resonant, carried across the balcony with the weight of authority.
"The time is upon us," he began, his gaze sweeping over the assembled Elders. "The Day God has blessed us with this opportunity to rise. The endless years of being the second star to the Lightning Sect, watching as they controlled the southern continent, denying us the glory that is rightfully ours, are finally coming to an end. Our light shall shine down upon the entirety of the Southern Continent."
Some of the Elders nodded, their expressions hardening in agreement.
Others, however, glanced at one another uneasily. They had followed Yuan Zhen into this war, driven by loyalty and a shared desire to see their sect rise to power, but the ferocity of the conflict, and the recent setbacks—particularly the loss of Amberlight City—had sown seeds of doubt in more than a few.
One of the Elders, a tall man with a long, graying beard, stepped forward. Elder Heng had been with the sect for centuries, his wisdom and patience earning him a seat among Yuan Zhen’s closest advisors. He cleared his throat, his voice steady but tinged with concern.
"Sect Master Yuan Zhen," Elder Heng began, his tone respectful but firm, "we have all followed your lead, knowing that you are divinely guided by Bavdall. Yet... the loss of Amberlight is a blow to our morale. Our forces are stretched thin, and the Lightning Sect still holds control over the majority of the southern continent.
We see young disciples quickly gaining power thanks to the Sun Drops you’ve willingly given up to foster their growth. However… Some among us wonder if this war is truly the path the Day God wishes us to walk?"
A murmur ran through the gathered Elders. The doubts were not new—Yuan Zhen had anticipated them—but hearing them voiced aloud for the fifth time in recent weeks was still a bitter taste in his mouth.
Yuan Zhen’s gaze hardened, and for a moment, the air around him seemed to grow heavy with heat. He stepped forward, his eyes burning with an intensity that made even the most battle-hardened Elders among them flinch.
"Elder Heng," Yuan Zhen said, his voice cold as steel, "do you question the will of the Day God? Do you doubt the divine vision that has been bestowed upon me? Do you doubt the righteousness of our cause?"
The weight of his words hung in the air, and Elder Heng’s resolve faltered. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Yuan Zhen’s voice rose again, cutting through the gathering tension like a blade.
"Do not forget why we fight!" Yuan Zhen’s voice rang out, a commanding roar that reverberated through the balcony. "The Day God has chosen us to bring light to this continent, to cleanse it of the Lightning Sect’s stranglehold, and to claim the glory that is rightfully ours. Famthar may lead the pantheon but with our support we can cause a shift in the HEAVENS!
Fret not, the loss of Amberlight is a setback, yes, but it is not the end. It is a lesson—a test of our faith and our resolve."
He raised his hand toward the sun, which now hovered just above the horizon, casting long shadows across the citadel.
His voice softened, but the intensity in his eyes remained. "Bavdall himself speaks through me. His light guides me. And in that light, I have seen the future. We will prevail, no matter the cost. The Lightning Sect will fall, and the southern continent will bask in the glory of the Endless Sun.
We will take over their God’s Trial and make it our own. We shall convert it to show our patronage to Bavdall! This war is not just for our right to be the top power; it is for salvation. Our salvation!"
Several of the Elders bowed their heads, their doubts melting away in the face of Yuan Zhen’s fervor. Even those who had hesitated found themselves swayed by the certainty in his words. Yuan Zhen spoke with such conviction, such unshakable faith, that it was impossible not to be drawn into his vision.
Elder Heng, still kneeling before him, lowered his gaze. "I do not question Bavdall’s will, Sect Master. I only seek to ensure that we remain on the path of righteousness as a united force against the Dragal’s future invasions."
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Yuan Zhen smiled—a slow, particularly deliberate smile that radiated both assurance and subtle menace. "We are on the path, Elder Heng. And soon, all will see the light. Those who doubt now will bow before the sun’s glory when the Day God’s will is fulfilled."
The Elders murmured in agreement, some visibly emboldened by Yuan Zhen’s speech. The tension had shifted, replaced by a renewed sense of purpose among most, if not all. The Sect Master’s words had reignited the fire within them.
Yuan Zhen turned his back to the group, staring out once more over his sect. "Return to your posts," he ordered calmly. "Prepare our forces for the next phase of the war. The Lightning Sect has tasted a victory, but it will be their last. We will strike back with the full force of Bavdall’s light. This time… we shall invite ourselves into their home..."
The Elders bowed deeply before they turned to leave, the doubt in their expressions replaced by fervor and determination. Yuan Zhen had not just reaffirmed their faith in their leader; he had reinforced their belief in the divine purpose of their conquest.
Once the last of the Elders had left the balcony, Yuan Zhen lingered for a moment, watching the sun finally dip below the horizon. The golden hues faded, leaving the world bathed in twilight.
A strange smile played across his lips as the light disappeared; the encroaching darkness covering and touching the walls and faces of every disciple in the sect’s city below.
Finally, he turned and strode purposefully toward his private quarters. His steps were slow, measured, as if weighed down by something far heavier than the burdens of leadership.
The towering doors to his quarters opened at his approach, and Yuan Zhen entered the lavish chamber, the soft glow of enchanted lanterns casting a warm, golden light across the room.
His private quarters were a stark contrast to the divine radiance he projected to the outside world. Here, the light was subdued, the shadows long and deep. The room was adorned with symbols of the Sun God Bavdall—intricate carvings and golden tapestries—but the atmosphere was far from one would expect.
Yuan Zhen walked toward the large bathtub in the center of the room, filled with steaming water that gleamed faintly with a golden hue.
Slowly, methodically, he removed his outer robe, revealing the muscular frame filled with the scars of a man who had been through countless battles. He tossed the white jacket and shirt aside, the clothing landing in a crumpled heap.
It was then that the truth, hidden beneath layers of righteous zealotry, became horrifyingly clear.
Etched into the flesh of Yuan Zhen’s chest was a grotesque tattoo—a symbol of dark power that twisted and writhed unnaturally against his skin.
It was a horned skull, the eye sockets filled with a swirling darkness that seemed to devour the light around it. The tattoo had a sickly red hue, as if it was a festering wound that had never fully healed.
Lassim and many others at the top of the political spheres that had been forewarned would have recognized it immediately if any were present.
The symbol of the Abyssal Cult.
But this wasn’t just any mark. No, it was far more sinister than the one Lassim had encountered years ago when he was offered the chance to join the Cult by the man named Mercy before jumping off the cliff that led him to the Drow’s realm.
The red hue of the tattoo pulsated faintly, as if it were alive, feeding on something vile and corrupt. The edges of the skull seemed to blister across the skin, and the horns up above the skin almost and curled with unnatural sharpness.
Yuan Zhen’s fingers traced the edge of the symbol, his expression cold, almost detached. Though, the tinge of a slight tremble of ecstasy shot through his fingers, making his hand slightly shake. The burning zealotry he had shown his Elders was absent now, replaced by something far darker. Something malevolent and perverted.
Without a word, he reached for a small golden vial that sat on a nearby table. The vial gleamed with day-elemental energy, the same Sun Drops that Yuan Zhen had been distributing to his disciples since the beginning of the Sect War he launched—promising them to cultivate much faster with this divine power, something he explained as a resource born out of the favor in the eyes of Bavdall.
But as Yuan Zhen flicked his finger against the vial, something changed.
For a brief moment, the golden liquid inside the vial turned a sickening shade of red. The change was subtle, almost imperceptible, but to anyone watching, it was clear—this was no pure gift from the Day God. This was something tainted, something twisted by the dark power that had long coursed through Yuan Zhen’s veins.
He smiled then, a slow, dangerous smile, as the red hue faded back into the golden glow of the Sun Drops. He held the vial up to the light, watching it swirl, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement.
"All according to plan. You shall all become true servants soon, my dear disciples of Bavdall," Yuan Zhen murmured, his voice a whisper of triumph.
With that, he stepped into the tub, sinking into the warm water, the grotesque symbol on his chest partially submerged, but still pulsing faintly with its malevolent energy.
The Endless Sun Sect’s Sect Master, the man who had inspired such devotion, such faith, was far from the pious leader he appeared to be.
And the war he was waging? Was it not for the glory of Bavdall?
No...
Yuan Zhen’s smile deepened, and he closed his eyes, feeling the abyssal energies’ darkness continue to stir inside him as it had for centuries.