"You're not going to tell me that you were just joking back then, are you?" the Lord of Darkness asked, her smile playful yet knowing as she eyed Ying Huanhuan.
"Senior Sister, you…"
Ying Huanhuan hesitated, but before she could explain, the Lord of Darkness chuckled.
"So you weren't joking. That's good. I've lived an entire lifetime serving others. Now, without the Dark Ancestral Talisman tying me down, I plan to live for myself."
With that, she raised the black tower in her hand. Darkness surged, expanding into a towering construct that loomed tens of thousands of feet tall. Her gaze fell on Ye Feng, shimmering with something between mischief and intent.
"Hey, shall we go in?"
"Ah?" Ye Feng blinked in confusion.
"Ah, what? This was our agreement: what's hers is mine, and what's mine is hers. Since you're my junior sister's man, you're naturally mine too." With a hungry grin, the Lord of Darkness grabbed Ye Feng with one hand and Ying Huanhuan with the other. "Come on. Junior sister, let's go together."
Before either of them could react, she dragged them both into the Tower of Darkness.
"Eh...?" Tang Xinlian stood frozen in place.
"What are Big Brother and Big Sister doing?" Mu Lingshan asked innocently, tilting her head.
Tang Xinlian opened her mouth, wanting to answer, but her words faltered. How could she explain what just happened?
She knew what her master Mo Luo had truly meant when he sent her to follow Ye Feng. On the surface, it was a punishment for offending him. But in truth, it was a veiled encouragement to get close to him—to become his.
Ye Feng was powerful, beyond what words could describe.
But more than that, he was… thoughtful.
He cared in ways that few men did—quietly, but with deep meaning. From time to time, he'd gift her small, thoughtful items—not flamboyant, but always personal. Cold on the outside, yet romantic at heart.
Tang Xinlian couldn't deny it. She liked Ye Feng.
She truly did.
Huu… huu… huu…
A series of soft panting sounds echoed from within the tower.
Boom.
The doors of the black tower slammed shut.
No further sound came out.
"That guy…" Tang Xinlian clenched her fists, a mix of frustration and helplessness flashing in her eyes.
They had just met—and things had already developed that quickly?
She kept glancing back at the black tower, biting her lip.
Finally, with a huff—
Bang!
She kicked the doors open and stepped inside.
With a firm thud, the doors closed behind her.
If Lin Dong had been present, he probably would've muttered, "Master's luck is truly heaven-defying…"
…
In the distant Western Xuan Territory, once counted among the four great Xuan Regions, the land had changed drastically.
The skies were pitch black. The ground, once fertile and vast, was now tainted and cracked. Heavy black clouds gathered above, thick with demonic energy. Acidic demonic rain fell without pause.
From within the darkness came guttural howls and inhuman screeches.
In the mountain ranges that dotted the territory, tranquility had long vanished. Scarlet eyes flickered in the dark—dozens, hundreds, thousands. Like predators, they stalked through forests and valleys, emitting bone-chilling laughter.
Demonic energy flooded the land, devouring everything—beast or human alike.
The air reeked of blood, the screams of the dying carried on the wind like a twisted lullaby.
This was no longer a battlefield.
It was a massacre.
A year ago, the Demon Territory had claimed the entire West Xuan Region.
But now—
Boom!
A sharp burst of wind broke through the sky. Armies of cultivators descended from the heavens—like a plague of locusts, darkening the sky.
It was a coalition of powerful forces: the Flame Temple, Dao Sect, and the Dragon Clan, among many others.
As they descended, the demonic energy momentarily stilled.
"Feng," Ying Huanhuan said, her tone firm.
Ye Feng nodded. "Surround the entire region. No one escapes."
Under his command, the coalition army fanned out, surrounding the tainted lands of West Xuan like an unbreakable net.
The Great West Xuan Desert, once golden and beautiful, had turned into a pitch-black wasteland. Demonic energy oozed from the very sand, tainting everything it touched.
At the heart of the desert stood a city.
A twisted, hellish city covered in dense demonic miasma.
"After so many years, we finally don't have to hide anymore."
"Is everything ready?"
"Ready."
"Then this time… we win."
Inside the city, the demons stirred. Battle-ready and bloodthirsty, they stood with pride.
Over the past year, they had freed numerous sealed demon kings and generals. While the humans defended cautiously, the demons had struck boldly, liberating their kin from two of the three great Demon Suppression Prisons.
The demon seeds that once lay dormant in human hosts had now awakened—each one reclaiming its original body and power.
"Hehehe… Demon Prison, obey my command. In the name of the Demon Emperor—slaughter them all!"
From within the Heavenly King Palace, a sharp, echoing voice rang out. The alien demon general raised his hand.
"Kill!!"
A tidal wave of demonic energy surged forward, crashing into the human lines like a black tsunami.
"It's my turn now." Ying Huanhuan stepped forward, calm yet resolute.
"Ice Lord, you're still no match for me!" the demon general roared.
Ying Huanhuan simply smiled.
She summoned her jade zither and plucked the strings.
The melody of "House of Flying Daggers" echoed across the battlefield.
In that instant, strange phenomena began to unfold.
Countless alien demons fell into disarray, their expressions twisted as they were trapped in an invisible web of sound and law. Before long, entire waves of demon soldiers collapsed, lifeless.
The battlefield tilted.
"Hold your positions!" the demon general shouted in panic.
That command gave them brief reprieve. Remaining still lessened the effect of Ying Huanhuan's law-infused melody. The demon army halted its charge, and the human coalition mirrored the move—stalling the clash.
But in the silence that followed, a dark presence emerged.
A man stood at the front of the demon army. Forming a seal with one hand, he raised it to the sky. Black blood trickled down his cheek, thickening into runes that pulsed with malice.
A vile energy spread, carried by the wind.
Sticky, black blood rained from above, landing on the desecrated ground.
Boom!
The earth trembled.
A towering demonic shadow slowly rose from the depths—its form endless, incomprehensible.
Like a nightmare given shape, it crawled out of the abyss.
With every step, the ground cracked beneath its colossal weight. Its presence blotted out the sky, exuding an aura of supremacy.
"…What is that?" Tang Xinlian gasped, her pupils shrinking.
"The Demon King's Image!" Ying Huanhuan said, her tone tense. "They're trying to awaken the Demon Emperor Statue."
She clenched her fists.
"Activating that statue channels power close to that of the Alien Demon Emperor himself. But it's temporary… they need the Demon Emperor's flesh and blood as a catalyst. And to activate it—"
"They must offer a blood sacrifice to the Alien Demon."
Crackle… Bilibili…
The Demon King's Image had countless arms, and with each one, an eye slowly opened.
Every time one did, thousands of demons—their own kind—died in a gruesome sacrifice.
This was no ordinary trump card.
This was the alien demons' most desperate gamble.
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