The pressure descended like a mountain falling from the sky.
Wang Ben dropped to his knees, gasping. Around him, cultivators who had just survived one impossible battle found themselves crushed by something far worse. Foundation establishment elders collapsed where they stood. Core formation cultivators staggered, their defensive techniques shattering like glass.
[ALERT: EXTREME SPIRITUAL PRESSURE - NASCENT SOUL CLASS]
[Designation: Jin Wolf faction (leadership tier probable)]
[Combat capability: Beyond host survival parameters]
[Recommendation: FLEE IMMEDIATELY]
But there was nowhere to run.
The figure descended from the northern sky like a falling star wrapped in shadow. He was tall, lean, with features that might have been handsome once before centuries of demonic cultivation carved them into something predatory and hollow. His robes were black trimmed with gold, the colors of the Jin Wolf faction, and his eyes burned with killing intent so thick it was almost visible.
Jin Lang. The Golden Wolf. Leader of the expedition that had just lost three of its most valuable assets.
And he was furious.
"Where." The single word crashed through the courtyard like a physical force. "Where is the one who killed my brothers?"
No one answered. No one could. The pressure was too intense, too overwhelming. Wang Ben could barely breathe, let alone speak.
Jin Lang's gaze swept across the battlefield, taking in the destruction, the bodies of his subordinates, the cultivators cowering before his presence. His lip curled in disgust.
"A mortal shedding cultivator." His voice was eerily calm now, controlled in the way of someone who had already decided to kill everyone present. "A single mortal shedding cultivator killed Jin Wei. Jin Hu. Jin Bao." He paused. "I will find her. I will tear her apart piece by piece. And then I will do the same to everyone in this pathetic city."
"That sounds tedious."
The voice came from behind him.
Jin Lang spun, and for the first time since his arrival, his expression changed. Shock. Then fury. Then something that might have been the beginning of fear.
Shen Ruoxi stood on a ruined wall, examining her nails with the casual disinterest of someone who had not just killed three mortal shedding cultivators. Her white robes were pristine. Her hair was perfect. She looked like she was attending a garden party, not facing down a nascent soul cultivator.
"You." Jin Lang's voice was ice. "You killed them."
"Did I?" Ruoxi finally looked up. Her smile was the smile of a predator who had found bigger prey. "I killed so many today. Which ones were yours?"
"You dare mock me?" The pressure doubled. Tripled. Wang Ben felt something crack in his chest, ribs straining under the weight. Around him, weaker cultivators were losing consciousness. "Do you have any idea who I am?"
"Jin Lang. Mid-stage nascent soul. Field commander of the Jin Wolf faction's western expansion." Ruoxi began walking along the wall, forcing Jin Lang to turn to track her. "Did I miss anything important?"
"How do you know that?"
"I asked your subordinates before they died." Her smile widened. "They were very cooperative once they realized death was inevitable."
Jin Lang's killing intent spiked so violently that the air itself seemed to shatter. Shadow qi erupted from his body, forming into a massive wolf's head that loomed over the courtyard, jaws wide enough to swallow buildings.
"I'm going to enjoy killing you," he said. "Slowly. Painfully. I'm going to make you watch as I destroy everything you protect. And when you finally beg for death, I'll..."
"You talk too much."
Ruoxi vanished.
She reappeared directly in front of Jin Lang, her hand already moving toward his throat. It was the same attack she had used on the Jin brothers. The same casual, almost dismissive strike.
But Jin Lang was nascent soul.
He caught her wrist.
"Fast," he admitted, his grip tightening until bones creaked. "But not fast enough. You're mortal shedding, girl. Peak stage or not, you cannot..."
Ruoxi's free hand came up, palm glowing with spiritual energy concentrated to a point that could have pierced steel. She drove it toward his chest.
Jin Lang released her wrist and stepped back, the attack grazing his robes but not his flesh. His eyes narrowed.
"You actually thought you could..."
She attacked again. And again. And again.
Wang Ben watched through vision blurred by pain and pressure, his System struggling to track movements that happened too fast for mortal eyes. Ruoxi fought with demonic ferocity, every strike aimed to kill, every movement designed to end the battle in a single blow.
But Jin Lang was stronger.
He blocked. He countered. He began to push back.
"Is this it?" His voice carried over the chaos of their exchange. "Is this the extent of your power? You killed my brothers because they underestimated you, but I am not my brothers." His hand caught her next strike and twisted. Ruoxi spun with the motion, but not fast enough. "I am nascent soul. And you are nothing but..."
The sky went dark.
For a moment, Wang Ben thought he had died. The pressure crushing him vanished so suddenly that its absence felt like a physical blow. The sounds of battle stopped. The world itself seemed to hold its breath.
Then the new presence made itself known.
It was like comparing a candle to the sun. Jin Lang's aura had been overwhelming, terrifying, beyond anything Wang Ben had ever experienced. This was something else entirely. This was power so vast, so absolute, that it made the nascent soul cultivator look like a child pretending to be a warrior.
[ALERT: CATASTROPHIC PRESSURE SPIKE]
[Classification: Nascent Soul class - peak tier (pressure magnitude analysis)]
[Comparative assessment: Current threat exceeds previous by factor of approximately 4x]
[Host survival probability: Negligible if hostile]
[Note: Subject was concealing cultivation. True level now visible through pressure release.]
Shen Wuyan descended from somewhere above, his normally mild expression carved from ice. He wore the same simple robes Wang Ben had always seen him in, the same understated appearance of a wealthy merchant or minor cultivator. But now his true cultivation was revealed, and everything about him screamed predator.
He landed between Ruoxi and Jin Lang, and the nascent soul demonic cultivator froze mid-strike.
"You dare." Wuyan's voice was quiet. Conversational. And somehow more terrifying than Jin Lang's screaming fury. "You dare attack my sister."
Jin Lang's face went through a rapid series of expressions. Confusion. Recognition. And finally, the pure, primal terror of a wolf who had stumbled into the den of something far more dangerous.
"Phantom Gate," he whispered. "You're Phantom Gate."
"We are." Wuyan's eyes held depths that spoke of centuries of patience and violence. "Did you think you could move into our territory without consequence? Did you think we wouldn't notice three mortal shedding cultivators stomping through a city we've been watching?"
"I didn't know..." Jin Lang was stepping backward now, his earlier fury completely forgotten. "The regional accords, the non-interference agreements, your faction was supposed to be neutral in frontier matters..."
"We are neutral." Wuyan smiled. It was not a pleasant smile. "We were content to watch. To observe. But you attacked my sister."
"She killed my subordinates!"
"She killed three lesser cultivators who invaded territory under our observation." Wuyan's voice didn't change, but the pressure increased. Jin Lang dropped to one knee, gasping. "That was her right. Your retaliation was... poorly considered."
"I didn't attack her! I just..."
"You raised killing intent against her. You moved to strike. The only reason you still breathe is that I wanted to see your face when you realized your mistake."
Jin Lang's expression crumbled. Wang Ben had seen mortal shedding cultivators afraid. Now he saw a nascent soul cultivator break.
"Please." The word seemed to physically pain him. "The Jin Wolf faction can offer compensation. Resources. Information. Whatever Phantom Gate desires..."
"I don't want compensation." Wuyan took a step forward. Jin Lang scrambled backward, barely keeping his feet. "I want you to leave. I want you to run back to whatever hole your faction crawled out of. I want you to tell them what happened here. A peak late-stage nascent soul cultivator in this 'backwater frontier.' Phantom Gate presence confirmed. Territory now under active protection."
"Yes. Yes, I'll tell them. I'll..."
"Go."
Jin Lang ran.
He didn't look back. He didn't hesitate. One moment he was there, the next he was a streak of shadow across the sky, fleeing west with every ounce of speed his cultivation could provide.
Wang Ben watched him go, watched a nascent soul cultivator retreat in naked terror, and felt something fundamental shift in his understanding of power.
The silence that followed was profound.
Wuyan's aura withdrew slowly, the crushing weight of his presence fading like a receding tide. Cultivators who had collapsed began to stir. Those who had remained conscious took their first real breaths in what felt like hours.
Ruoxi appeared beside her brother, her expression somewhere between amused and annoyed.
"You could have let me handle it."
"You were about to lose."
"I was about to take a hit to set up a finishing blow. There's a difference."
"Mm." Wuyan didn't sound convinced. "And if the finishing blow failed?"
"Then I would have improvised."
"You would have died."
"Details." Ruoxi waved a dismissive hand. "He wasn't that much stronger than me. One realm is manageable with proper technique."
"It is not manageable. You are reckless, sister, and it will get you killed someday."
"But not today." She smiled at him, genuine affection breaking through her predatory facade. "Thank you for watching."
"I always watch." Wuyan's voice softened almost imperceptibly. "Now, shall we finish cleaning up?"
He turned to survey the battlefield, and his gaze found Wang Ben still on his knees, struggling to rise.
"Ah. My new debtor." The mild, pleasant tone was back, as if he hadn't just terrified a nascent soul cultivator into fleeing. "Still alive, I see. Good. You still owe me three favors."
"I remember," Wang Ben managed.
"Excellent. We'll discuss the first one once this mess is sorted." Wuyan gestured vaguely at the chaos around them. "Ruoxi, help the alliance forces deal with the remaining demonic cultivators. I'll ensure our friend Jin Lang truly leaves the region."
"And if he doesn't?"
"Then he dies." Said simply, as if discussing the weather. "But he will. He's more intelligent than his subordinates were. Cowardice can be a survival trait."
Wuyan vanished, his presence fading so completely that it was as if he had never been there at all.
Ruoxi looked down at Wang Ben with something that might have been respect. Or amusement. With her, it was always difficult to tell.
"Welcome to the real world, little cultivator," she said. "Try not to die before you pay your debts."
Then she too was gone, moving to intercept the fleeing demonic cultivators with the casual efficiency of a cat catching mice.
The cleanup took hours.
Wang Ben watched from the side, too exhausted to participate, as the combined forces of the Wang, Dao, and Huo clans hunted down the remaining demonic cultivators. Without their mortal shedding or nascent soul leadership, the core formation and foundation establishment forces were prey.
The Blood Wolf Company arrived near dawn, their timing impeccable. The Lang brothers led their men into the chase with the focused intensity of hunters who had finally found their quarry.
"These are the Jin Wolf faction's people," Lang Wei said when Grand Elder Wang Feng offered to coordinate. "We've been tracking them for months. Consider this a debt repaid."
By sunrise, not a single demonic cultivator remained alive within the region.
But Wang Ben couldn't stop thinking about what he had witnessed. Jin Lang, a mid-stage nascent soul cultivator, had fled in terror from Shen Wuyan. The gap between them had been so vast that fighting wasn't even a consideration.
And Wang Ben owed that man three favors.
He sat on the secondary wall, watching the sun rise over a city that had survived against impossible odds, and wondered what exactly he had gotten himself into.
Behind him, Dao Zhen still knelt beside two cloth-covered bodies, refusing to leave his father and grandmother even as the world moved on around him.
The war was over.
Something else was just beginning.
END OF CHAPTER 51