Nine Venoms Sect Founder

"Magnificent!" Jiyan's eyes sparkled at the jet-black gates like an archeologist in an eldorado of ancient monuments. Known as the God-Defying Gates, they predated the Dark Stone Country, going back to the Lost Era that preceded the Serpent Emperor's hegemony. As its name implied, not much was known about the Lost Era. From the races and lords to the peak cultivators, the current generation knew virtually nothing. However, remnants of that time like the Ancient Inheritance Grounds, Eternal Monuments and World Beasts, existed to remind the future generations of the glory forgotten with those days.

According to hearsay, the God-Defying Gates were built by a group of mortals who imbued their life-force, souls and hatred for Gods in Obsidian Soul Stones, using them to erect this massive monument that prevented all between the Ascending God and Empyrean Monarch Realms from moving past these gates. Dynasties collapsed, countries succeeded one another. But the God-Defying Gates stood unbroken across millions of years, challenging the Gods' supremacy.

Of course, this didn't stop the Gods from exerting their influence by proxy, or summon Door Gods and Divine Hosts to launch brutal assaults. Still, the mere fact that a place where Gods couldn't set foot into existed, was enough to lift the mortals' spirits.

Flocks of black flying birds, falcons, eagles, cranes and swans, spread their wings above the gates, with their eyes aiming for the Heavens above. All that glanced at those lifelike statues would hear the call of freedom stir their souls. But as Jiyan marveled at the Eternal Monument, Harun shook his head.

"Nerd." Jiyan's love for exploration and world wonders was a long-proven topic. But seeing how she lost herself before the God-Defying Gates, Harun had to admit that he underestimated her infatuation for those world wonders.

"Hush, gluttonous ape. Do you know that in the Mountain Edge World's history, all mortals that conquered the First Range started here? Do you know that the gates open and close automatically, and that all Gods that attempted to force their way in turned into roasted pigs? This place is of inestimable historical and cultural worth. Can we take pictures and make recordings?" Like a child giddy before rows of ice creams, Jiyan held her cheeks, swaying back and forth, then spun toward Harun.

Rolling his eyes, Harun avoided her gaze, but after three seconds of false struggle, still conceded, "Sure, darling. After we're done with the proper business, we can record all you want to in memory crystals. Happy?" Harun rhetorically asked. Satisfied, Jiyan smooched his cheek and whispered in his ear, "Don't pretend. I know you love me best."

To that, Harun had nothing to add.

The gates opened to let rows of chariots in. Guards barred the entrance to check the newcomers' identity and purpose. And thus, the pair entered the Dark Stone Capital. What they saw inside robbed their breaths.

An ancient stone city built upon and across a verdant hill took shape before them, with organized districts and quarters split into layers of increasingly more affluent neighborhoods. Perched on the hilltop was a massive temple-styled palace with sky high pillars shouldering the dark-brown ceilings, and the entrance open to all that dared dive in. Surrounding it, however, was a network of barbicans and reinforced walls, with intimidating cannons that fired deadly metallic projectiles at assailants.

Yet, startling as it might be, this city couldn't sway either Harun or Jiyan who'd seen the wonders of the Highest Heaven. No, a much simpler, yet harrowing scene grabbed their attention. Not even five meters west from the entrance, a crowd formed around five bare-chested men and women, tied against poles, and battered to death by relentless stone projectiles. The lynching went on even though the five had long lost their lives, with the crowd howling "dirty thief," with each stone they threw.

Nine meters to the right, six burned at the stake. Twelve meters north, a nobleman's carriage dragged bound captives across the ground, and at the city's center, 32 horses quartered eight men of various frames.

It was as if the city drowned its thirst and hunger in mayhem, galvanized by screams and blood thirst. The faces of commoners and aristocrats had twisted into fiendish grimaces, and processions of hundreds of citizens from all walks of life held plaques high in the sky with one bold word written on all surfaces: "ABDICATION!"

In that instant, Harun was reminded that images spoke louder than words. Jiyan, who'd never seen such a barbaric picture floundered for a moment, and held tighter onto Harun's arm. But even after she regained her composure, her stretched eyes spoke tales of her fright. Reddened by burning houses and wanton looting, the air choked under all the asphyxiating smoke. Hissing sounds left, metallic clashes right. The smells of fear and raging wrath entangling with a paradoxical affinity. Chaos in its purest form took shape before the pair, and all this...occurred right at the entrance door!

The guards turned a blind eye to the chaos, some dead drunk, others preferring watch duty. A substantial number of law enforcers took part in the looting, disguised as bandits. Those that aimed to do their sworn duty were trampled by stampedes of horses and men—with the cultivators sneak attacked by other cultivators that hoped to see the carnage go on unstopped.

"Are they controlled?" Jiyan said. Despite all she saw, Jiyan couldn't accept that such madness was the product of conscious activity. Harun, however, remained stoic, "Have you ever seen a city's state after a successful siege, or the darker sides of a revolution? Those are the types of things we hide to maintain the holy image of our nature. Don't worry, as one once claimed, this misery is just the passing of greed, and the bitterness of men. The hate will pass...after we meddle, of course," Harun said in a nonchalant tone. Used to the roads, the carriage driver took the least crowded one to lead the pair toward the Hypnotic Lute Tavern, number one drinking establishment of the Dark Stone Country.

When the man left to fetch Harun and Jiyan, the situation was nowhere near this chaotic. But within three weeks, the city went from disturbing to outright nightmarish. Yet, even if he could foresee the future, he wouldn't refuse the assignment. The Hypnotic Lute Tavern controlled 90% of the alcohol supply in the Dark Stone City, and possessed large water reserves. For that water alone, many were willing to submit to them. At the same time, the owner created the Fancy Wife Inn, which supplied nobles and cultivators with high-grade meals and courtesans. In a measly 15 years, his influence in the Dark Stone Country reached legendary proportions. Three mercenary companies answered his command, a loophole few could use to own private soldiers.

That meteoric rise and resources brought many enemies. But all their attempts seemed thwarted by destiny itself, giving many the misconception that the Hypnotic Lute Tavern's owner was protected by Heaven itself.

Who could imagine that such a blessed man, still in his prime, would one day break his legs, and have to bring his nephew to the capital to inherit the business? Many aristocrats and cultivators' eyes watched out for that young master, who'd soon become one of the wealthiest, if not the wealthiest man of the Dark Stone City.

But as his carriage approached the tavern, Harun looked out the window, spotting a scene that grabbed his interest. One bald cultivator dressed in a black monastic robe faced three teenagers and their respective parents. Besides two of the teenagers, all prostrated themselves before the bald cultivator.

"Why aren't you kneeling?" The baldy asked in a level tone that carried nothing besides a hint of curiosity.

The two teenagers were of diametrically opposed frames. The left teen was tall and burly, and the right one slender, of average height, but with a strikingly handsome face. But while the burly teen seemed pensive and a bit out of place, the boy at the right kept his back straight, oozing confidence and a scholarly aloofness.

"I only kneel to Heaven and my parents," the scholarly pretty boy boldly claimed. Hearing this, the bald cultivator nodded in understanding, and slapped the scholar's head off his neck. Not caring for the gore and screams he just caused, the cultivator turned toward the remaining youth, and again asked the same thing.

"Why aren't you kneeling?"