A fate worse than death for the 'pure'.
Xiaochen looked at the words, then up at the high arched windows, beyond which the mountain slept. He felt no remorse, no hesitation. The boy who had feared the Elders, who had longed for their approval, was long gone. He was a weapon, a force, and his target was the very foundation of their world.
He turned and moved towards the grand doors of the Main Sword Hall. They were heavy, made of dark, ancient wood, usually locked from the inside at night. Xiaochen placed a hand on them. Tendrils of black Void Qi pulsed from his palm, seeping into the wood, dissolving the complex locking mechanism within seconds. The doors clicked open silently.
He stepped out into the cool night air, the crescent moon now directly overhead, casting long, stark shadows.
