The corridor was a monument to arrogance: floors of polished void-dragon bone, walls inlaid with the crystallized souls of extinct leviathans that still screamed silently when you walked past, chandeliers made from frozen starlight harvested from dead universes. Every footstep echoed like the death knell of a god.
Zhao Xun walked naked from the waist up, silver hair loose, the lower half of his body wrapped only in a loose black silk robe stained with blood and other fluids. Frost still clung to his skin from his earlier killing intent outburst.
Nine figures waited for him at measured intervals along the corridor, each radiating pressure that would crush a normal awakener to paste.
The Ten Sovereigns of the Zhao New Blood—the youngest generation, all between nineteen and twenty-five, all SSS-rank or higher, all Level 150+.
They fell in beside him without a word, forming a perfect phalanx of death.
1. Zhao Xun – Level 147 → 158 after tonight's harvest
SSS-rank Twin Harvester of Purity and Despair
The Virgin Reaper. Eyes crimson, smile lazy and obscene.
2. Zhao Mei – Level 172
SSS-rank Crimson Scripture of Ten Thousand Poisons
Petite, doll-faced, long black hair in twin tails. Her fingernails drip constantly with venom that can rot a soul in 0.7 seconds.
3. Zhao Feng – Level 169
SSS-rank Heavenly Thunder Dominion
Tall, golden-eyed, crackling with chained lightning. Every breath releases ozone and the smell of burned flesh.
4. Zhao Linglong – Level 165
SSS-rank Myriad Bone Imperial Throne
Androgynous beauty, skin white as bone porcelain. Carries a throne made of living spines on her back that writhes when she's angry.
5. Zhao Wuyin – Level 161
SSS-rank Absolute Silence Domain
Hooded, face never seen. Where he walks, sound dies. Even heartbeats stop if he wills it.
6. Zhao Xue – Level 159
SSS-rank Blood Mirror Reversal
Crimson twin buns, always smiling. Can reflect any attack back a thousandfold—physical, magical, or emotional.
7. Zhao Hen – Level 157
SSS-rank Eternal Grudge Incarnate
Covered in self-inflicted scars that bleed black fire. Every injury he has ever taken is stored and can be released as a curse.
8. Zhao Tianwu – Level 155
SSS-rank World-Splitting Halberd Intent
Bare-chested giant, three meters tall, carrying a halberd made from a dead god's femur.
9. Zhao Ying – Level 154
SSS-rank Phantom Dream Devourer
Ethereal, half-transparent. Feeds on nightmares. Can trap entire cities in illusions of their worst memories.
10. Zhao Lingsha – Level 152
Mutated SSS-rank Nine Nether Serpent Empress
Lower body fused with nine serpent tails, each head whispering different temptations. Venom turns men into loyal breeding slaves.
Ten monsters.
Ten walking calamities.
Their killing intent merged into a single wave so dense it warped space, creating heat shimmers and black lightning in the air.
None of them spoke until they reached the gates of the Blood Council Hall.
Then Zhao Xun broke the silence, voice soft, almost affectionate:
"She's coming to kill us all."
A pause.
"I want her alive. I want to break her for a thousand years."
Zhao Mei giggled, licking venom from her lips. "Only if I get to poison her womb first. I've always wanted to see what devil-contracted ovaries taste like when they melt."
Zhao Feng cracked his neck, lightning exploding outward and incinerating a priceless tapestry. "I'll fry the bitch until her eyeballs boil. Then we can all take turns."
One by one, they all added their claims—graphic, obscene, creative beyond sanity.
The gates opened.
The hall was a sphere of rippling void. Elders floated in lotus positions—no floor, no ceiling, only endless black starred with captive galaxies. Twenty-three ancients, each centuries old, bodies long since replaced with constructs of blood and shadow.
The Ten Sovereigns stepped into the center. Gravity reoriented so they stood "upright" before the floating elders.
The air was so thick with killing intent it had physical weight. Blood dripped upward from old wounds and hung in the air like red rain frozen mid-fall.
Grand Elder Zhao Tian spoke first, voice like grinding continents:
"We do not bend. We do not hide. We did it once for the Three Calamities and choked on our own pride for fifteen years."
Second Elder Zhao Kui snarled: "This is no Calamity. This is a child. A raped, burned, devil-puppet child. And she dares name us?"
Third Elder, a woman whose face was just a mask of writhing shadows: "She destroyed Sublevel 4 in nine minutes. Alone. The footage shows Original Sin resonance at 94% match with Zhou Ling's prime."
Zhao Xun smiled lazily. "Then we collect her. Break her. Breed her until the devil contract drowns in our seed. The Zhao will turn the Devil Queen's own weapon into our broodmare."
Zhao Mei stepped forward, voice sweet and poisonous: "I say we poison the entire New Beijing zone. Let a billion civilians rot so she has no place to hide."
Zhao Feng slammed his fist into his palm, lightning chaining between the elders. "No. We hunt. We bring her back in chains. Publicly. Let every zone see what happens when trash bares fangs at dragons."
Zhao Hen's scars opened wider, black fire pouring out. "I want her soul. I will wear her hatred as a cloak."
The argument exploded.
Voices overlapped—some demanding immediate extermination, others prolonged torture, others suggesting they wake Zhao Hu's sleeping soul fragment sealed in the clan's heart, others proposing they shatter the fragile peace and simply glass every safe zone until she crawls out.
The void sphere trembled. Captive galaxies shattered from the pressure.
Finally, Grand Elder Zhao Tian raised one withered hand. Silence fell like a guillotine.
"We seal her," he declared. "Not kill. Seal. The Forbidden Nine Blood Lock Array. The same formation we once prepared for Zhou Jun himself, before he escaped hell. Ten Sovereigns as anchors. Twenty-three elders as chains. We will bind her body, soul, and talent into the deepest abyss beneath this citadel. Eternal torment. Eternal pregnancy. Eternal harvest."
The Ten Sovereigns grinned in perfect unison.
Zhao Xun licked his lips. "I volunteer to be the first key in the lock."
Meanwhile…
**Lower Atmosphere – 400 km from Zhaohold Citadel**
A single rift tore open the night sky.
Xia Rou stepped out, barefoot on empty air, devil wings fully unfurled—thirteen pairs now, each feather a screaming face.
Her armor of damned souls had grown. The five rapists' faces now writhed largest across her chest, mouths open in eternal agony.
In her right hand she dragged a chain made of their melted neural dampeners.
Her left hand held a beating black heart—ripped from the warden captain who had tried to stop her escape.
She looked toward the distant Himalayan spire, eyes burning with inverted crosses.
Zhou Ling's voice whispered inside her skull, tender and proud:
*They are gathering to seal you, child.
All thirty-three of them.
Go.
Show them what happens when you try to chain hatred itself.*
Xia Rou smiled.
The smile of something that had already died twice.
She took one step forward across the sky.
And the war began.