NOVPUBA day later, Riley received another reply in the form of a letter. This time, it was delivered personally, left waiting on his doorstep at the Thousand Stars Summit.
The letter bore the same signature, spiritual energy, and sword intent as before, a silent declaration of the sender's power and identity.
Breaking the seal, Riley scanned the contents. The message was brief, almost indifferent, but the meaning was clear—they would meet in a week.
There was no hint of urgency, no excessive formality, just a simple statement of intent. It was as if the sender already knew he would accept.
Riley, of course, had no objections. He lived as he pleased within the sect, unbothered by the passage of time.
Days blurred together as he indulged in the pleasures of life, whether it was spending intimate nights with his women, savoring the warmth of their company, or engaging in ridiculous eating contests with Fluffy, his gluttonous companion.
And just like that, the week passed in the blink of an eye.
On the morning of his departure, Ruby approached him, her expression calm yet tinged with concern. "Are you sure you don't want me to accompany you, Young Master Riley?"
Ruby was the strongest among his subordinates, second only to him. Though she was not his lover, she was utterly devoted to her role, unwavering in her responsibilities. Her presence was a constant, a silent force that ensured everything in his domain remained in order.
Riley waved a hand dismissively. "No need. It's just a bunch of fools playing around. Nothing serious."
Though she remained composed, Ruby's sharp eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, as if searching for any trace of hesitation. Finding none, she simply nodded.
"As you wish, Young Master," she said, bowing slightly.
Without another word, Riley turned and took a single step forward.
"Whoosh!"
In an instant, he was gone, vanishing without a trace.
Ruby instinctively activated her divine sense, attempting to track his movements, but within three breaths, he had disappeared from her perception entirely. She didn't even have the time to count a fourth before his presence was erased from the world around her.
She sighed. It was to be expected. Riley possessed the Divine Step technique, a movement art so profound that it granted him the ability to traverse the multiverse without a hint of strain. Even among ancient cultivators, few could claim mastery over such a skill.
"Young Master Riley is truly deep and mysterious," Ruby murmured to herself, shaking her head. Despite serving him for so long, there were still depths to him she could not comprehend.
But she had no time to dwell on it. Her duties remained. Turning away from the empty space where Riley once stood, she resumed her tasks. In the end, she was a maid, and her work never ceased.
***
Riley arrived in a desolate wasteland where devastation stretched as far as the eye could see. The land was barren, cracked, and lifeless, as if the very essence of vitality had been stripped away.
Jagged remnants of mountains jutted from the ground like broken teeth, their once-majestic peaks shattered beyond recognition.
Rivers had dried into deep, lifeless chasms, and the air carried the faint scent of scorched earth and lingering resentment, the aftermath of a battle so fierce that its echoes remained imprinted on the land itself.
It wasn't difficult to deduce what had happened here. A great battle had taken place, one so violent that even time had failed to fully erase its scars.
There was no telling how many cultivators had fallen, how many souls had been extinguished in the chaos of clashing techniques and obliterating divine arts. 𝖓𝔬𝖛𝔭𝔲𝖇.𝔠𝔬𝖒
For ordinary cultivators, reaching such a forsaken battlefield would have required immense effort—perhaps weeks aboard a flying boat or months of arduous travel through treacherous terrain.
But for Riley, a Void Tribulation expert, such distances were meaningless. A single step through the void, and he arrived as effortlessly as one might stroll through their courtyard.
He exhaled, his gaze sweeping across the ruined landscape. Then, in a calm but commanding voice, he spoke.
"Come out. I'm already inside your killing formation, aren't I?"
The wind howled in response, stirring the dust in ghostly swirls.
For a brief moment, the silence stretched, as if the very world was holding its breath.
Then, without warning, three shadows emerged from the void.
They did not approach him directly. Instead, they positioned themselves around him in a precise triangle formation, encircling him without leaving a single gap.
Their movements were methodical, calculated—proof that this was no hastily thrown-together ambush. They had planned for this.
Riley's eyes flickered over them, analyzing their presence.
The first was an elderly man with a long, white beard, his face weathered with the weight of countless years.
His eyes were deep and hollow, carrying a sense of detached cruelty, as though life itself had long ceased to interest him.
The second was another old man, his posture straight, his robes flowing with an air of authority.
Unlike the first, he held no overt malice, but his gaze was cold and indifferent, as if Riley was already a dead man, a mere formality before the inevitable conclusion.
The third figure stood in stark contrast to the others. He appeared young—barely in his twenties—but Riley knew better than to be deceived by appearances.
His sharp features and arrogant stance suggested a man accustomed to being obeyed, someone who had never tasted true defeat. His youthful skin belied the sheer power pulsing within him.
Three Void Tribulation powerhouses. Equal to Riley in cultivation, yet standing before him with a sense of superiority, as if the outcome of this confrontation had already been decided.
"Bang!"
A tremendous surge of spiritual energy erupted, encasing Riley in an oppressive domain. The air around him solidified, as if reality itself was locking him in place. The killing formation activated instantly, sealing him within a cage of pure power.
The sky darkened, and the ground beneath him trembled. The weight of the formation pressed down on him like an unbreakable chain, designed to crush and suppress him before the battle even began.
Laughter echoed through the wasteland.
"Hahaha!" The first old man smirked, amusement flashing in his aged eyes. "You truly are a reincarnated expert, Riley Mason. Or do you have a daoist name we should address you by?" He chuckled, shaking his head. "Not that it matters—you're going to die today."
The second old man, the one Riley had exchanged letters with, stroked his beard thoughtfully. His voice was calm, measured.
"There is no need for this to end in conflict, Fellow Daoist Riley. Swear a Dao Oath to serve us, and we will allow you to live. There is no shame in bending the knee to those stronger than you."
The younger looking cultivator snorted, crossing his arms. His gaze held no patience, only cold amusement.
"Why waste time? The slave dao oath isn't foolproof. Sooner or later, he'll find a way to break free. Let's just kill him now and save ourselves the trouble. What's more is that we don't know anything about him and this makes him very dangerous." This daoist looked ahead and wanted to play it safer.
Riley stood in the center of it all, unmoving. The oppressive force of the killing formation swirled around him, the three powerhouses exuding their killing intent like an unspoken decree.
And yet, his expression remained unchanged.
He did not panic.
He did not even frown.
Instead, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at his lips.
These three truly believed they had already won.
Foolish.
"I don't talk trash. It's just a waste of my precious time. Make your move and be done with it," Riley said, his tone laced with indifference.
He shrugged, as if this entire situation was nothing more than a trivial distraction.
"Give it your best shot—for it will be the last move you ever make."
His relaxed demeanor, the way he carried himself without a hint of fear, would have been enough to unnerve lesser cultivators.
But the three Void Tribulation experts surrounding him did not falter. To them, his confidence was misplaced arrogance.
After all, Riley was already inside their killing formation. The domain had been set, and the battlefield had been chosen. Three against one—an impossible disadvantage, even for a genius.
To escape would take a miracle.
Or so they thought.
"How laughable," the first old man sneered, amusement flickering in his eyes. But then his expression turned thoughtful, his curiosity getting the better of him.
"Before we kill you, Daoist Riley... tell me, how did you know this was a trap?"
Their plan had been seamless. They had used the identity of a righteous sect master, a well-respected figure, to lure him here.
No ordinary cultivator could have seen through such a flawless deception.
Riley chuckled, shaking his head. "I could smell the stench of rotting evil from a mile away."
His words were casual, almost lazy, yet they carried an undeniable weight.
The three daoists did not react with anger. They simply smiled back, unfazed. Their confidence remained absolute, their killing intent only growing stronger.
The air crackled with tension.
Power surged, distorting the space around them.
The killing formation pulsed with ominous energy, sealing off all possible escape routes.
The trap had been set. The only thing left was for Riley to die.
Or so they believed.
