Starting Out As The God of Beasts

The heavy, suffocating silence that fell over the grand hall was thick with unspoken resentment.

The seated Elders made little effort to conceal the dark, bitter scowls twisting their faces.

For over a century, the Glorious Mythical Sect had proudly stood as one of the few ancient martial factions in the Northern Hashian Mountains that refused to bend the knee to divine institutions.

They were proud cultivators who relied on their own steel, blood, and meridian techniques—not the fickle grace of distant gods.

Maintaining absolute independence was an unwritten, sacred law passed down by their founding ancestors.

Yet, with a few casual words, their Sect Leader was shattering that century-old tradition, opening their gates to welcome the foreign proselytizers of the Church of the God of the Sky.

Displeasure burned hot in the veins of every Martial General at the mahogany table. Yet, despite their silent fury, not a single Elder dared open his mouth to protest.

The source of their restraint stood casually near the marble pillars.

Priest Arnold’s gentle, pleasant smile belied the terrifying, suffocating reality of his existence: he was a bonafide Martial Lord.

To speak out against the Sect Leader’s decree in the presence of an armed, foreign Martial Lord was an act of pure suicidal foolishness.

They knew all too well that Priest Arnold could crush their soul cores before their hands could even touch their sword hilts.

The Sect Leader swept his piercing green eyes across the silent council, deeply satisfied by the total lack of verbal opposition.

”The matter is settled,” the Sect Leader declared coldly, rising to his feet. ”Prepare the strike force. Council dismissed.”

The Elders stood in unison, cupping their hands in a stiff, reluctant bow before filing out of the grand chamber, their golden robes sweeping furiously against the polished floorboards.

Within minutes, the vast hall emptied completely, leaving only two men standing in the quiet, shadow-drenched sanctuary.

”Mao Zedion,” Priest Arnold called out smoothly, stepping forward as his white-and-gold priestly robes rustled against the stone.

A warm, serene smile rested on his handsome face. ”I offer you my personal gratitude for accepting the holy faith of the Sky God.”

Sect Leader Mao Zedion grinned, a dark, ambitious light flashing in his green eyes as he stepped down from his dragon throne.

”Do not waste your breath thanking me, Priest Arnold,” Mao Zedion replied, his voice echoing through the high rafters. ”We are business partners, nothing more. This is a mutual transaction.”

Mao Zedion walked toward the grand balcony overlooking the cloud-shrouded mountain peaks, resting his heavy hands on the carved stone railing.

”The terms of our alliance are absolute,” Mao Zedion continued, his tone turning sharp and calculating.

”Your Church of the God of the Sky shall use my sect’s authority to absorb the Northern Hashian Mountains, establishing your cathedrals and spreading your faith deeper into the eastern and southern Hashian ranges.

In exchange, your Church will provide the raw resources, divine arts, and backing necessary for the Glorious Mythical Sect to rise, expand, and completely overthrow the Myriad Heaven Sect as the absolute ruler of this continent.”

Priest Arnold stepped up beside the Sect Leader, placing a gentle, reassuring hand upon Mao Zedion’s broad shoulder.

”The Church of the God of the Sky always honors its covenants, Sect Leader,” Priest Arnold assured him softly, his icy blue eyes gleaming with absolute confidence.

”The divine favor of our Lord shall elevate your sect beyond your wild dreams. But first, we shall begin by making a terrifying name for your faction across the northern territories—by punishing absolute heresy.”

The priest turned his gaze toward the distant horizon, his smile sharpening into something cruel.

”We shall publicly execute every dog involved in the slaughter of Brother Silver Lotus. We will use his death as the perfect, righteous catalyst to march our combined forces out of these mountains and sweep into the surrounding territories.”

Priest Arnold withdrew his hand and turned his back, his long priestly robes trailing behind him as he walked toward the shadows of the exit.

”The era of conquest has officially begun, Mao Zedion,” Priest Arnold declared, his rich, melodic laugh echoing through the empty hall.

His voice slowly faded into the darkness of the corridor, leaving behind an ominous chill.

Mao Zedion stood alone on the high balcony, staring out over his thousands of practicing disciples in the courtyards below.

He let out a long, heavy sigh, his grey beard fluttering in the cold mountain wind.

”I hope so too...” Mao Zedion whispered softly to the empty sky. ”...for both our sakes.”

Five Days Later.

The high mountain winds howled across the rocky, barren plains leading into the southern borders of the Northern Hashian region.

A powerful, high-tier investigation team swept across the sky like four shooting stars.

Leading the advance force were three of the sect’s most formidable martial pillars.

The Heaven’s Honored Elder, the Peerless Supreme Elder, and the Divine Scarlet Elder. Trailing closely behind them, gliding effortlessly through the clouds without touching a single blade of grass, was Priest Arnold.

All three Elders were Middle enlightened stage-Martial Generals, their bodies clad in heavy, battle-tested armor, their faces set into grim masks of righteous vengeance.

They had traveled non-stop for five days, fully prepared to confront an invading army, arrest a rogue faction, or slaughter a rebellious city garrison.

”We are approaching the valley coordinates,” the Heaven’s Honored Elder barked, his voice carrying over the wind as he unsheathed a massive, glowing broadsword.

”Be ready! The moment we breach the outer gates of Kaelos City, unleash your domain arrays! Leave no path of escape for those border fools!”

”Understood!” the Peerless Supreme Elder roared, his hands weaving complex, explosive mana signs in mid-air.

The four powerful figures crested the final mountain ridge at hyper-speed, descending toward the lush valley where the prosperous border hub of Kaelos City had stood for generations.

WHOOSH.

They landed simultaneously upon a high cliff overlooking the basin, weapons drawn, their crushing Martial General’s auras bursting outward to suppress the entire valley

And completely froze.

The broadsword in Heaven’s Honored Elder’s grip slipped an inch. The Peerless Supreme Elder’s mana array sputtered and dissolved into thin air.

Even Priest Arnold, who landed gracefully beside them seconds later, lost the calm, serene smile that had rested on his face for days.

There were no massive granite walls.

There were no bustling market districts, no administrative palaces, no guard towers, and no human souls.

Instead of a thriving, fortified border metropolis housing tens of thousands of citizens, a desolate, apocalyptic expanse stretched out as far as the eye could see.

Where Kaelos City once stood lay a colossal, featureless crater miles wide.

The ground inside the pit was smooth, black, and glassy—baked into a dead, sterile lake of slag under a heat so absolute that even the surrounding riverbeds had been completely evaporated into dry, cracked mud.

Pale wisps of cold smoke still drifted lazily from the abyss into the silent grey sky.

Kaelos City no longer existed..