Villain System in a Cultivation World-Chapter 28: An Old Man’s Grudge

At the cave's mouth stood a towering figure, a monolith of flesh and fury forged from the very bones of the earth. Old Man Tie loomed with menacing presence, his gray robes—tattered and stained with the dust of countless battles—snapping wildly in the howling wind.

His gnarled hand clutched a longsword, its blade notched and scarred, glinting faintly under the dim, oppressive light. His aura was unshakable, a mountain defying the tempest, and his hawk-sharp gaze fixed on the cave's shadowed maw with a sneer curling his weathered lips.

The wind carried whispers of his legend throughout the continent: Old Man Tie, the rogue cultivator who had clawed his way to the Divine Platform Realm through decades of solitary bloodshed. No sect claimed him, no clan bound him.

His name was a curse on the lips of the Eastern Wilderness, a specter of dread born from the forgotten techniques he'd unearthed in a crumbling realm during his reckless youth. Once, he'd been a wanderer seeking only power. Now, he was a grandfather consumed by vengeance.

"I've waited days for this, Ye Qiu!" His voice erupted like a landslide, a gravelly roar that shattered the stillness and reverberated off the cliffs. "Tell me—should I sever your head before or after I grind every bone in your miserable body to dust?"

His bloodthirsty grin widened, yellowed teeth flashing as his eyes gleamed with feral delight, twin coals burning in the furnace of his rage. The overwhelming aura rolling off him left no doubt—he was a giant among men, his power a tidal wave that could drown lesser souls.

It pulsed through the earth, a rhythm of ruin that made the pebbles at his feet tremble. This was no petty elder skulking in the shadows of a sect's hierarchy. This was Old Man Tie, whose grandson, Tie Feng, had perished mere days ago in a calamity that razed valleys and splintered mountains—a tragedy he blamed on Ye Qiu, the man he'd hunted across this forsaken wilderness.

"Feng'er," he muttered, his voice softening to a rough whisper, thick with grief and resolve. "Be patient, my boy. Grandfather will send this dog to the depths of hell to atone for your death."

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His expression hardened, grief transmuting into a cold, unyielding fury that etched new lines into his craggy face. He raised his longsword with a single, decisive motion, its tip aimed at the cave like a judge's gavel.

The air screamed as he thrust it forward, a deafening boom splitting the silence. The cave's entrance erupted in a cascade of rubble and dust, the earth quaking beneath the weight of his wrath.

Shards of stone rained down, sharp as broken promises, and the wind howled louder, as if mourning what was to come. "Cough... cough..." From the swirling haze stumbled a disheveled figure, his steps faltering, his breath a ragged gasp that cut through the chaos.

Ye Qiu emerged, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, staining his torn robes a deeper crimson. His dark hair hung in matted strands over a face pale as death, his eyes—once sharp with defiance—now clouded with exhaustion.

He locked gazes with Old Man Tie, and fear clawed at his insides, a ravenous beast sinking its teeth into his resolve. 'He knows I'm spent,' Ye Qiu thought, the realization bitter as bile. 'No strength, no stamina—every breath is a gamble now. One misstep and I'm done.'

Ye Qiu tried to run, but his legs betrayed him, managing only a feeble walk. He was that drained.

Old Man Tie's sneer deepened, his eyes narrowing to slits as he drank in his prey's weakness. "You little beast," he growled, his voice low and venomous, dripping with contempt, "where do you think you're scurrying off to? Face your death like a man, at least!"

He raised his blade, the air around it crackling with latent power, a storm brewing in the steel. With a roar, he swung downward. Thunder erupted from the sword, a torrent of destructive energy surging forth like a tidal wave, intent on reducing Ye Qiu to ash and memory.

Hatred burned in the old man's chest, a wildfire consuming every shred of restraint. Once, he'd dreamed of capturing Ye Qiu alive—binding him in chains forged from his own despair, flaying his spirit with slow, exquisite torment until he begged for the mercy of oblivion.

But now, standing before the man he held responsible for Tie Feng's death, reason melted away. All he craved was annihilation—a single, crushing blow to erase Ye Qiu from the tapestry of existence. The ground beneath his feet cracked, mirroring the fracture in his soul.

Ye Qiu clenched his teeth, desperation igniting a frail spark of defiance in his hollow chest. "Mystic Flame Ascension: Cauldron of the Mountain Blaze!" he roared, his voice hoarse but resolute, a dying ember flaring one last time.

Above him, a blazing cauldron materialized, birthed from writhing tongues of crimson flame. It hung in the air, humming with raw, untamed power, its surface etched with the faint outlines of ancient runes that pulsed like a heartbeat.

The heat warped the space around it, bending light into shimmering mirages, and its fiery maw yawned wide. The thunderbolts along with Old Man Tie's sword were pulled into its depths, devoured in a burst of searing light that painted the ravaged landscape in hues of blue and gold.

Sparks erupted, casting light across the fractured earth, but the effort exacted a brutal toll on Ye Qiu's body. His face paled, color leaching away, and his knees gave out beneath him. He coughed, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the ground, his aura wavering, faint and fragile.

Old Man Tie's eyes widened, his sneer faltering for a heartbeat. He hadn't expected Ye Qiu—battered, broken, teetering on the edge of collapse—to withstand that strike.

But as he studied his foe's trembling form—the shallow breaths, the hands shaking with exhaustion—a cruel certainty settled over him like a shroud. The end was inevitable. A cold, guttural laugh rumbled from his throat as he summoned thunder once more.

His palm crackled with energy, arcs of lightning dancing between his fingers like serpents eager to strike. "Such weakness," he spat, his voice a blade honed with disdain. "You think your feeble gimmicks can save you? I'll grind your soul to dust and scatter it to the winds!"

A deafening roar split the air as a jagged bolt of lightning, thick with ruinous intent, hurtled toward Ye Qiu, tearing furrows in the earth as it closed the distance. Despair gripped Ye Qiu's heart, squeezing until his ribs ached.

His reserves were ash, his body a hollow shell barely clinging to life. 'Is this it?' he thought, his mind a whirlwind of panic and defiance. 'Am I to die here, beneath this old monster's heel? No—I refuse! My revenge remains unfulfilled. I won't let it end like this!'

The lightning bore down, a heartbeat from striking, its blinding glare searing his vision. Hopelessness flooded his eyes as he squeezed them shut, bracing for the oblivion he could no longer outrun.

Then, a hand emerged from the ether—long, pale fingers seizing the lightning mid-flight. With a gentle clench, the bolt dissolved into a shower of harmless sparks, scattering like fireflies into the wind.

The unseen figure stepped forward, and with a casual flick of their wrist, launched a palm strike toward Old Man Tie. The motion was effortless, almost bored, yet the old man reacted as if facing a mortal foe.

Their palms collided with a thunderous bang that shook the heavens, the air fracturing behind Old Man Tie in a web of splintering light. He groaned, his towering frame staggering back as the ground beneath him buckled.

The wind erupted into a tempest, whipping dust and debris into a blinding storm. The surrounding peaks crumbled, their jagged crowns reduced to powder under the sheer force of the clash.

Ye Qiu shielded his face with an arm, peering through the maelstrom as a figure emerged from the chaos. A man clad in flowing white robes materialized, his presence a divine weight that pressed against the world itself.

His black hair fluttered gently in the wind, framing a face both serene and unreadable, like a lake hiding fathomless depths. The air seemed to bow before him, heavy with the quiet menace of his power—an aura that dwarfed even Old Man Tie's towering might.

He stood as if descended from the celestial peaks, a god gracing the mortal realm with his indifference. Old Man Tie's face twisted in alarm, his bravado crumbling like dry earth.

This newcomer's strength was a mountain atop a pebble, an oppressive force that crushed his spirit. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice icy but threaded with a tremor he couldn't suppress. "Why do you meddle in my vengeance?"

The man in white tilted his head slightly, his gaze distant, as if peering through the old man to some unseen horizon. "Leave," he murmured, the single word soft yet carrying the weight of a decree.

Fury flared in Old Man Tie's chest, his pride surging like a beast unchained. He, too, was a master of the Divine Platform Realm—a titan who had walked the Eastern Wilderness for over a century.

Why should he cower before this intruder? And how could he turn away when Ye Qiu's blood was within reach, the culmination of his grief and rage so close he could taste it?

"Leave?" he snarled, his voice rising to a furious crescendo. "You dare command me? I'll bury you alongside this whelp!"

His aura surged, dark and roiling, a storm of shadow and malice. "Black Dragon Bell of Ten Thousand Arts!" he bellowed, his body trembling with the strain of his technique.

In an instant, his form twisted and expanded, morphing into an enormous black bell forged of shadow and spite. It tolled with a resonant clang that shook the earth, unleashing a chorus of dragon roars that echoed through the ravine.

Soundwaves rippled outward, a tidal wave of destruction that pulverized the nearby peaks into dust. The bell shifted again, its edges melting and reforming into a colossal black dragon, its obsidian scales glinting with malevolent light.

With a deafening roar, it lunged at the man in white, jaws gaping to swallow him whole. "Ignorant fool," the man in white said softly, his voice a whisper against the cacophony.

He raised his right hand, and the air behind him blazed with power. Seven streams of sword energy erupted, piercing the heavens like pillars of divine wrath.

They roared as they surged forward, their brilliance blinding, and in a heartbeat, they shredded the black dragon into fragments of dissipating shadow. The man moved then, a blur of white against the darkness.

In an instant, he closed the distance and struck—a single palm crashing down with the weight of a collapsing star. Old Man Tie's head exploded in a spray of blood and bone, his body crumpling like a marionette with severed strings.

The earth beneath him fissured, with cracks spreading outward. An expert of the Divine Platform Realm—a solitary legend who had carved his name into the Eastern Wilderness through a century of blood and solitude—gone, felled by a single, effortless blow. The audacity of it defied reason.

The man in white stood over the old man's lifeless form, his expression as calm as a still pond, as though he'd merely swatted a gnat. His white robes remained pristine, untouched by the carnage, and he turned to Ye Qiu with a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his tone gentle, almost warm, a stark contrast to the ruin at his feet.

Ye Qiu stared at him, his heart hammering against his ribs. He didn't recognize this man, yet his presence radiated danger—an ancient, primal threat cloaked in that disarming smile. 'He's a beast from the dawn of time,' Ye Qiu thought, a shiver racing down his spine. 'Terrifying. Utterly terrifying.'

His body screamed with pain, his reserves depleted, but suspicion and curiosity clawed through the fog of exhaustion. Frowning, he forced the words past his cracked lips. "Who are you?"

The man let out a soft chuckle, a rich, harmonious sound that seemed out of place amidst the shattered ruins. Hands clasped loosely behind his back, he stood with an air of ease that still carried an undeniable authority. "Jiang Zhongbai," he introduced himself smoothly, "True Disciple of the Xuantian Sect."

Ye Qiu's breath caught in his throat. The Xuantian Sect—the very name conjured memories of Qin Ting, the relentless shadow of his past who ruled there with an iron grip.

'Why would one of their elite step in for me?' Ye Qiu's gaze darted to Jiang Zhongbai's deep, unreadable eyes, probing for some flicker of motive, but they held only a serene stillness that gave nothing away.

"Why save me?" Ye Qiu demanded, his voice rough with suspicion and a spark of defiance. "What do you want from me?"

Jiang Zhongbai shook his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips, as though the question tickled his sense of humor. "Want?" he echoed, his tone playful yet edged with something unreadable. "Perhaps I dislike seeing talent extinguished before its time. Or perhaps..."

He paused, his gaze drifting to the horizon, where storm clouds gathered like a brewing omen. "Perhaps there's a grander design unfolding, and you, Ye Qiu, are a thread I'd rather not see snipped just yet."

Ye Qiu's fists clenched at his sides, nails biting into his palms. 'Grander design?' he thought bitterly. 'I'm no one's pawn.'

Yet he swallowed the retort, sensing the chasm of power between them—a gulf he couldn't cross in his broken state. Survival trumped pride, for now.

"Come," Jiang Zhongbai said, turning with a graceful sweep of his robes. "You're in no shape to linger here. The vultures will descend on Old Man Tie's corpse soon—best we avoid their squabble."

Ye Qiu hesitated, casting a final glance at the geezer's broken form. The wind carried the scent of blood and scorched earth, a requiem for the fallen titan.

Reluctantly, he nodded and followed the white-robed figure into the fading light, the weight of unanswered questions pressing heavy on his shoulders.