Scene 1 - Strength

Master Mo led his disciples outside followed by a dozen black clothed men and women; his aura suppressed into a point. Every motion he made seemed to carry a bone-chilling purpose. As he exited the Tavern he seemed like a tiger in human skin, ready to tear his prey asunder.

He turned back, facing the black robed outer disciples, the crescent tattoo in his eyes dancing like blades made for reaping, “Protect them if anything should occur or I shall have your heads!”

The black robed men bowed their heads, clasping a hand over their hearts in a single smooth fashion, “May your will be done, Master Mo!”

With the fading daylight, shadows played upon the buildings like demons ready to devour man and beast alike.Three hundred men stalked out from within the darkness with eyes bathed in greed, armed with swords and knifes made out of bone and steel. Their expressions reminded one of wolves and hyenas ready to jump on a fat lamb in the fading light.

After the mob appeared, a man sitting on a throne made of bones and skulls appeared with an expression of ecstasy. Six men and women carried him forward on their bloodied backs and hands, their expressions dull and lifeless, devoid of all emotion.Master Mo had made preparations beforehand to conceal his aura, not wanting to startle them; he wanted to destroy the evil that ruined his good time. Yet despite his best efforts, his voice resounded in a domineering manner, making some in the mob shake with fear, “So you are the people troubling my students?”

Master Mo had made preparations beforehand to conceal his aura, not wanting to startle them; he wanted to destroy the evil that ruined his good time. Yet despite his best efforts, his voice resounded in a domineering manner, making some in the mob shake with fear, “So you are the people troubling my students?”

The man sat in his throne with arrogance, not the slightest bit scared. He even leisurely took a sip of the blood within his goblet. He smiled, lips and teeth stained bloody red and shining in the fading sunset. He stared at Master Mo, eyes filled with scorn and ridicule as if he found an annoying fly.

The man stood up from his seat and laughed heavily, eyes changing from scorn to filled with coldness, staring directly at Master Mo, “I don’t know who you are and I don’t give a shit! I rule these streets, but since I’m a handsome and understanding leader. I’ll give you to the count of three tails to hand over the little shits or you'll regret pissing me off in the netherworld!”

Cracking his knuckles, Master Mo’s blood boiled, he turned his sideways towards the siblings, showing them a grin, “Lesson one my students! Always remember your bottom line!”

With his left-hand Master Mo slowly unsheathed his sword from his side, and as he did so the sword began to flicker in a frosty golden light. It wasn’t a long blade, merely a one-handed sword that seemed simple to the eye. No furnishings were on the blade and hilt, but its glow gave off a majestic air that couldn’t be called simple.

With his free hand, he summoned a snowstorm across the street, making it a winter wonderland... Of Death!

Wherever these snowflakes landed, various ice flowers a meter wide would bloom on the streets. The street started to fill with flowers that would bloom rapidly on top of each other, enclosing the space around the men. Soon, the street was filled with the sound of shouts and screams of three hundred men as the flowers squeezed and cut apart their body parts with ease.

Blood and limbs started to fly around, staining the icy flowers red and causing them to appear like blood lilies. The luckily died without knowing why; while others were torn limb from limb by the razor sharp lilies.

One person was extremely unlucky and ate a snowflake only to have his body directly explode into a mass of blood and gore, dying the flower bloody red. The massacre was both beautiful and terrifying, lasted for just a short minute.

The only people left alive were the man on the throne who had clearly pissed himself, and the people carrying the large chair he sat on. Master Mo had intentionally left the man alive to allow the piss stained slaver to regret his actions before his death.

Master Mo coldly snorted, “All talk with no bite, eh? Now lesson two my students. Those who lack a backbone shall forever be weak, no matter how talented they are! Take this man for example; see how he bullies the weak for his own personal gain. This is not a true man! He is the scum of the earth and must be killed before he ruins more lives!” Sword in hand, Master Mo strengthened the veins and muscles within his arm, causing it to bulge three times its normal size. The sword's size grew, quickly becoming a giant war blade and turning red as runes covered the face of the blade. He casually threw the war blade towards the white-robed piss stained man, the sword streaked through the air as fast as lightning!

In an instant, the war blade cleaved the man in twain.