Chapter Twenty-Five: Kneel and Wait

“Brazen fiend, come forth and meet your death!”
“We, the tribes of the Western Domain, are here. How dare you act so recklessly, fiend!”
“Cowardly rat, hiding in the shadows—don’t test my patience. Come out and die at once!”
As that rough voice resounded, several others followed in quick succession.
Dozens of terrifying presences instantly blanketed the entire valley where the Moonstream Tribe resided.

“Follow me.”
The Prince of Shadows betrayed no emotion, issuing a calm order to the two behind him as he strode forward.
Little Jin and Ling Ye wasted no time, following closely in silence.
Mo Sen, after a moment's hesitation, soothed his clansmen and joined the trio, saying nothing.

Soon, the four appeared outside the valley.
Now, in the void beyond, dozens of figures radiating overwhelming power stood suspended in the air, arrogant and disdainful, their expressions fierce and unyielding.
Before each, a variety of magical artifacts were displayed, ready for battle.
But when their eyes fell upon the young man in the black-gold embroidered robe, calm-faced and collected, a sudden sense of unease stirred within them.
Who is he? Why does his presence unsettle us so deeply…
Exchanging glances, they saw the same grave and frantic look mirrored in each other's eyes.
Such dread was unprecedented, yet today, this seemingly ordinary youth inspired a terror beyond words.

“Countless ages have passed. Perhaps you have forgotten my true face, but…”
His gaze swept the figures in the void above. The Prince of Shadows remained serene, a faint chill emanating from him as he slowly raised his left hand. Three inches above his palm, the illusory image of an ancient mask appeared.
“Does this artifact… look familiar to any of you?”
As his words echoed, all eyes turned toward the mask.
Its base was white, ancient and austere, covered in intricate patterns of blood-red and black, with several ethereal lines deeply etched upon it.
Just a glance at its visage invoked a nameless fear.
It was as if the mask embodied endless abyss—boundless death—like the ruler of the Infernal Hell, the very source of terror in the world.
Within its depths, a sinister and noble dominance pervaded, a desolation, and upon closer inspection, an unprecedented murderous intent flowed forth.
Perhaps, over the ages, the Prince of Shadows’ appearance had faded from memory amid generations of inheritance.
But the mask in his hand, symbolizing slaughter, blood, and nobility, had been passed down to this day, dreaded by all!

The figure bearing the mask, standing proudly above the cosmos, worshipped by countless beings, was recorded in the clan’s annals.
For countless ages the chaos went unquelled; yet once the Prince’s divine palace was established, all changed!
The Shura Blood Mask ignited murderous thoughts; the black-gold robe suppressed the heavens!
That mask belonged only to the Prince of Shadows, who ranked above the Ten Lords of Hell!
Thus…
The identity of the man standing before them needed no further explanation.
The Prince of Shadows!
The sovereign who had suppressed the myriad worlds for endless ages!
The tyrant who slaughtered countless gods and demons, who cut down all fiends and monsters!
The heavenly blade suspended above all, usurping the very mandate of heaven itself!

“Greetings, Your Highness!”
“We pay our respects, Your Highness!”
Their composure shattered, eyes brimming with terror, they bowed with fists clasped toward the Prince of Shadows.
Not long ago, after mastering the forbidden art of reversing countless cycles of reincarnation, he returned and slew tens of thousands of foreign quasi-emperors.
All of Tianyuan knew of this!
And among them, the strongest were mere Great Saints—who would dare act arrogantly before the Prince of Shadows?
Thinking thus, their hatred toward the messenger who warned of fiendish invaders in the Moonstream Tribe reached its peak.
Clearly, they had been set up—set up for certain doom!

“Kneel and wait.”
Sweeping his gaze over those who, a moment before, had been fierce and imposing, but now, like stray dogs by the roadside, the Prince of Shadows gave a calm command.
“Yes…”
None dared delay. All bowed and knelt in proper order, waiting in silence.
No one spoke, and none knew what the Prince of Shadows intended.
Their fear surpassed all thought—they dared not entertain a single stray idea in his presence, lest they inadvertently provoke his displeasure and perish on the spot…

While dread quaked their bodies and hearts, a distant shadow suddenly appeared on the horizon!
A presence matching the pinnacle of the Saintly Realm swept toward them.
Then a domineering voice, amplified by spiritual energy, echoed in all directions:
“Who dares act so brazenly!”

“To inflict such grievous wounds upon the Divine Tribe, here in the Western Domain!”
“Foolish wretches—your grandfather is here! Come forth and die!”
…
Witnessing this, those kneeling below broke out in cold sweat, cursing the fool inwardly, their resentment mounting.
The Prince of Shadows had not yet unleashed his murderous intent, but that did not mean he wouldn’t later…
Such reckless provocation might well lead him to slaughter them all as collateral damage.
The more they dwelled on it, the greater their terror—and their hatred for the newcomer grew ever deeper.

Yet the next scene chilled their hearts and intensified their fear.
The Prince of Shadows simply regarded the newcomer calmly, saying nothing. He raised his hand slowly, extended a finger, and tapped lightly.
The newcomer’s spiritual energy instantly went haywire.
His legs exploded into mist of blood; a vast hole appeared in his dantian.
He collapsed headlong to the ground, mouth opening soundlessly, unable even to scream.
He had been stripped of all cultivation and sealed from speech by the Prince of Shadows.

After him, dozens more arrived in succession.
Those who dared shout were crippled, their cultivation and legs destroyed.
The shrewder ones, seeing the devastation outside the valley and recognizing the Prince of Shadows, hastily knelt down, not daring to breathe aloud.
Yet a few, clinging to hope, sensed the anomaly from afar and tried to flee.
But without exception, each was obliterated by a single gesture from the Prince of Shadows, leaving not a trace behind.

Later, Mo Sen fetched a set of exquisite tables and chairs from the Moonstream Tribe and placed them outside the valley.
Once the Prince of Shadows sat, Mo Sen respectfully brewed tea for him.
This scene gave some of the more cunning elders a sudden insight…
The Prince of Shadows remained seated, eyes lowered, sipping tea, waiting quietly…
Time passed slowly; in the blink of an eye, several hours slipped by.
The sun climbed high, its rays scorching, the air dry.
The Western Domain, already sweltering, now became nearly unbearable.
And by this time, the number of respectful figures kneeling outside the Moonstream Tribe’s valley had already surpassed a thousand…