Dust still drifted through the air like the last shreds of a nightmare.
The Grandmist Primeval Halberd's arc was already gone, but its afterimage lingered in the bones of everyone who had watched it. The palace plaza was split by twin craters; cracks webbed out from them like dried blood lines.
In those craters, Situ Haotian and Situ Bonan lay half-buried.
Their dragon-robe and pale-green robes were stained with dust and blood. The phantom of the Giant Demon behind Haotian had collapsed entirely; only a few dim, twitching lines of demonic light still clung to his frame. Bonan's Bronze Battle Spirit was in worse shape—its form had shattered outright, leaving only broken chunks of bronze aura fading away like scraps of a ruined statue.
Their Divine Sea foundations were cracked.
Everyone with enough strength to sense such things could feel it: their Seas were shaking on the verge of collapse, Dao structures broken, meridians torn, lifeblood surging chaotically. If they'd taken one more breath's worth of that halberd's power, they would already be corpses.
They couldn't stand.
They could barely breathe.
High above, Ren floated alone in the sky.
He drifted a little lower, as if for the sake of politeness, hands still tucked lazily in his pockets. His aura had withdrawn to a great degree; the world-splitting sense from before was pushed back, folded inward. What remained was a heavy pressure that sat over the Asura Divine Kingdom like a second firmament—present, unmistakable, but no longer actively crushing.
He looked down at Haotian and Bonan.
His gaze was calm, casual.
It was the way a man might look at two interesting weapons he'd just tested and found flawed. Not hateful. Not even particularly contemptuous. Just… slightly entertained by how easily they broke.
Then he lifted one hand out of his pocket.
His fingers moved as if brushing away dust.
A thin glow of dark-rainbow lotus light flowed down from his palm, gentle as drifting snow. It didn't scream or blaze or roar; it simply slipped through the air and fell into the twin craters like a quiet rain.
The light touched Haotian first.
Under his shattered skin and torn meridians, bones that had been split by Grandmist force gave a series of crisp pops, like someone snapping a string of firecrackers in reverse. Fractures stitched themselves. His Divine Sea, cracked like a bowl dropped on stone, pressed back together just enough that true essence stopped spilling out in wild torrents.
The agony dragging at his mind receded.
From "I'm going to die" it dropped to "I might live long enough to regret this."
The other stream seeped into Bonan's body.
The Emperors' Uncle felt the Bronze Battle Spirit's fragments pulled closer together—not restored, but stabilized, prevented from crumbling into dust. His marrow stopped boiling. His spine remained cracked in several places, but the lines no longer deepened; his Divine Sea tremors eased just enough that he could draw a full breath without blacking out.
The two old monsters sucked in the air greedily.
They were still half-buried in their own craters.
But now… they could move.
Slowly, with the stubborn pride that had carried them to the top of the demonic path, they forced their bodies to obey.
Stone grated.
Situ Haotian pressed his palms into the shattered plaza and dragged himself upright. Dust slid from his dragon robe in dull cascades. Blood stained the corner of his mouth, and his face was gray beneath the imperial lines—but his spine straightened. Double pupils burned again, even as pain made his vision swim.
He would stand.
Even if it felt like every bone in his body might fall apart if he breathed wrong.
Beside him, Situ Bonan pushed himself out of the stone, the Wishful Green Spear serving more as a cane than a weapon. The bronze phantom behind him was tattered and incomplete, like a statue smashed and desperately held together by threads of will.
He still stood.
He was old, and he had been broken by a single swing.
But he was still Situ Bonan.
Murmurs swept across the plaza.
"He broke them with one move…"
"…Divine Sea foundations cracked…"
"And then… he fixed them? Just like that?"
Demon Envoys who'd once walked through rivers of blood stared with pale faces. Some of them had seen Divine Sea elders crippled by enemies; none of them had seen someone shatter and then pull those same experts half-back from the brink with a lazy gesture.
Imperial Scholars swallowed down the dryness in their throats. Even the most composed among them—Imperial Scholar Xuan—couldn't quite stop the faint trembling in his fingers.
High above, Ren watched the two old men struggle to their feet.
His eyes curved a little at the corners, as if mildly pleased they weren't completely useless.
"Relax," he said.
His voice was light, conversational. It carried easily through the demonic domain, every syllable threading through the Giant Demon Minor Realm like a needle through cloth.
"If I wanted this throne, Haotian, you wouldn't have arms left to swing that halberd."
The content of the words was cruel.
The tone, however, was almost friendly. Casual. As if he were stating the weather.
That mismatch made more than a few hearts clench.
Situ Haotian's fists tightened until fresh blood seeped from his palms. His double pupils flashed, battling humiliation and rage. The Battle Demon Emperor Body phantom behind him twitched as if wanting to roar, but the cracks in his foundation made it wheeze instead.
Ren went on as if nothing were wrong.
"I'm not here for a hostile takeover," he said lazily. "Thrones bore me. Sitting in one place just to listen to other people squabble… not my thing."
He gestured vaguely.
Demonic palaces. Blood lakes. Black fortresses. The vast demonic domain overlaying the capital and the Giant Demon Minor Realm roiling under his feet.
"I came because your Asura Divine Kingdom is sitting on decent foundations," he said, voice almost indulgent. "And wasting them."
That line landed like another halberd.
Demon Envoys flinched.
Imperial Scholars' faces tightened.
Countless demonic path experts who'd grown up hearing "Asura Divine Kingdom" spoken with awe felt their hearts twist.
Decent foundations?
Wasting them?
Situ Haotian sucked in a breath.
He forced his fury down. His double pupils steadied, the imperial light in them sharpening. The Battle Demon Emperor Body's phantom behind him hunched low, as if bowing its head under a mountain—but it did not fall.
He cupped his fists, paying the respect that strength demanded.
"Senior's strength is truly like the legends of the upper realms," he said, voice hoarse but steady. "This Haotian… wishes to understand. If you are not here to seize my Divine Kingdom… then for what do you descend with such overwhelming might?"
Ren's gaze slipped back to him.
A small smile touched his lips.
"To spread my Dao," he said simply.
The capital went quiet.
"To spread… your Dao?" someone whispered.
Ren's eyes half-lidded. His voice was soft, but it rolled out over the kingdom like distant thunder.
"I can drag this little kingdom past the level of the other Divine Kingdoms," he said. "I can push you toward the realm those 'highest under the heavens' crawled their way to—Old Man Good Fortune, Nine Furnace, Sublime Smelting and the rest of that crowd you all gossip about."
He shrugged faintly.
"I can make your pillars into something that doesn't break after one swing."
Around the capital, countless hearts began to beat faster.
Beyond the other Divine Kingdoms?
Beyond the level of the top Sky Spill figures they'd heard of but never seen?
The words sounded insane.
But they had just seen him fold their Divine Emperor and Old Ancestor like paper.
Insane… was no longer the same as impossible.
Inside Ren's Sea of Consciousness, deep behind his relaxed eyes, something stirred.
The Immortal Soul Bone turned slowly in the depths of his soul, like an ancient wheel grinding through a thousand subtle patterns. The Asura Divine Kingdom's demonic domain, its overlapping Giant Demon Minor Realm, the laws of this land, the hearts under his gaze—all of it flowed into that bone and came back out stripped of noise.
He let his eyes wander.
Situ Haotian—ambition like a sword rammed into the sky, corroded at the edges by fear of decline.
Situ Bonan—pride in his status, refusal to accept age, obsession with holding authority even as his body failed.
Demon Envoys—love of killing, loyalty to the crown laced with self-interest.
Imperial Scholars—calculating minds, fear of losing their rank on the Destiny Decree.
Situ Chuan, Situ Yangon, Situ Bai, other princes—anxiety about their own futures, resentment toward Yaoyue's talent, greed toward power that didn't require them to bleed.
Imperial Scholar Xuan—calm on the surface, but in the Samsara Devil Arts coiling in his Sea of Consciousness he saw one thought burning brighter than the rest: if I can grasp this man's Dao, I can cut apart reincarnation itself.
Ren did not create any of this.
Greed was already there, festering in them like a shark circling under dark water.
He simply nudged it.
Not with brute force, not with soul-crushing domination, but with a gentle, inexorable pressure. A small adjustment here, a thread tightened there, enough to take the greed they already held and pull it out of the polite shadows into the open.
Enough that they stopped hiding it behind courtly words.
Crucially, he let his gaze slip lightly over five figures and did nothing more than confirm what was already written in their souls.
Situ Yaoyue—Extreme Violet Dantian spinning hard in her lower abdomen, Heavy Darkness Law like a cloak around it. At her core: a sharp, cold desire for absolute strength and control of her own fate.
Situ Meiyue—a quieter violet light, shadowed by the weight of comparison. Her will was milder, but beneath it there was stubbornness: to protect her family, to not be left behind.
Situ Yaoxi—Soul Sea deep and cold, full of curse marks and soul chains. Under the layer of viciousness, a fierce pride and a hateful resentment at being treated as nothing but a useful, aging tool.
Situ Qingzhao—Darkness Laws braided around a cultivation base she had once carved back herself for beauty's sake. The fear of losing that beauty still clung like frost; regret for the road she'd cut away beat quietly under her ribs.
Bi Ruyu—curses and demonic resentment floating around her like a storm, but in the center of it all a tired wish: that just once, someone would look at her and not flinch back from the smell of death.
He touched none of that.
He merely took note.
His pressure flowed past, letting their core selves stand on their own.
Then, as the Immortal Soul Bone made one more slow revolution, his smile thinned.
"Of course," he said, tone turning a shade dryer, "I'm not a charity. I won't spread my Dao for free."
The plaza went still.
Every demonic heart tightened.
"So tell me, Haotian. Bonan. All of you." His gaze swept lazily over the gathered powerhouses. "What can you give me?"
Situ Haotian's jaw flexed.
In the depths of his heart, the greed Ren had brought to the surface whispered sweetly.
If I can get his Dao, I can repair my foundation. I can regain face. I can rule the central region again. I can lead the Asura Divine Kingdom to swallow the others…
He bowed.
His voice was steady.
It was also just a shade too eager.
"Senior's Dao is like the heavens," he said. "If Senior is willing to elevate my Asura Divine Kingdom, then this Emperor will naturally offer his highest position, the greatest resources, and…" he drew in a breath, made the choice, "…all beauties under the heavens as needed."
The last clause hit the plaza like a splash of ice water.
Situ Yaoyue's fingers curled inside her sleeves.
Situ Meiyue's heart dropped, her lips pressed so hard together that the color drained from them.
Even some Demon Envoys shifted uncomfortably. The demonic path was cruel, but rarely was it stated this openly in front of the subjects being sold.
Ren's brows rose, an amused glint flickering in his eyes.
"Resources and titles are boring," he said openly. "They never mean what people say they mean."
He smiled, lips quirking.
"'All beauties under the heavens', huh? That's at least honest. How many women would you offer, Haotian?"
He tilted his head.
"I'm a greedy man. I don't settle for one."
He said it lightly, as if discussing wine instead of lives.
Situ Haotian didn't even hesitate.
"As long as Senior is willing to help the Divine Kingdom," he said firmly, "this Emperor will naturally dedicate the finest of our royal blood. Yaoyue, Meiyue…" He turned his head, double pupils sweeping over the two women with a detached gaze he'd once reserved for enemy kingdoms. "If Senior fancies them, then their bodies and futures are yours to dispose of."
The words were knives.
Situ Yaoyue felt the chill run down her spine, like someone had dumped a bucket of black ice over her bones. For a heartbeat, she couldn't even feel the Extreme Violet Dantian in her lower abdomen; the spinning core of power that had always been her pride felt strangely hollow.
Situ Meiyue's face went white.
Her nails dug into her palms until blood welled, hidden by her sleeves. She stared at her emperor—her elder, the man she'd been raised to respect—and realized that in his eyes, she was worth less than a cultivation technique.
Around them, even Demon Envoys paused.
For us, that's… blunt, one thought, throat tightening.
But before the discomfort could bloom into resistance, the Immortal Soul Bone's subtle nudge rolled over them again. Their existing cruelty and self-interest came to the surface, smoothed over the prickling instinct that said this was too much. In its place… a flat acceptance.
That's just the price.
Ren let out a low, amused breath.
"Oh?" he said lightly. "That generous already?"
His gaze slid from Yaoyue and Meiyue and, in a slow, lazy sweep, drifted to three other figures.
Situ Yaoxi, wrapped in dark bone-patterned robes.
Situ Qingzhao, with her mature beauty and blade-sharp eyes.
Bi Ruyu, the fierce old witch whose very presence reeked of curses and death.
"What about Yaoxi, Qingzhao, Bi Ruyu?" he asked, tone almost playful. "My tastes are wide. I don't mind age, curses, or sharp tongues."
The three women jolted.
Situ Yaoxi's expression froze. The soul chains around her body flared with a faint, dangerous light.
Situ Qingzhao's smile—carefully maintained for decades—flickered and died at the edges, leaving only coldness in her eyes.
Bi Ruyu's tired gaze sharpened like a knife pulled out of a sheath, old fury and old wounds stirring at once.
Situ Haotian's greed twisted tighter.
He could feel his Divine Sea trembling, his Battle Demon Emperor Body barely holding together. He could feel the weight of his kingdom's eyes, the shame of his defeat.
If I can get this man's Dao, it won't matter, that greed whispered. I can fix all of it later. For the rise of the Asura Divine Kingdom, what are a few women?
"If Senior is willing to guide my Divine Kingdom's future," he said coldly, "then even Royal Princess, Supreme Elders, and curse masters are simply offerings for the greater good. Just one word from Senior, and they…"
He turned his head fully this time.
His double pupils swept Yaoxi, Qingzhao, Bi Ruyu as if they were mere assets on a ledger.
"…will obey."
Situ Bonan added his weight, voice low and rough.
"For the rise of the Asura Divine Kingdom, what are a few women's lives and bodies?" he said harshly. "Yaoxi, Qingzhao, Bi Ruyu—you should feel honored to be noticed by such a character."
All around, the power structure moved.
Situ Chuan, Situ Yangon, Situ Bai, other princes.
Imperial Scholar Xuan.
Other Demon Envoys and Imperial Scholars.
They bowed, almost as one.
Some did it because they truly believed the kingdom's rise justified anything.
Some did it because their own greed for Ren's Dao had eaten their hesitation.
Some—particularly those who resented the influence these women wielded—did it with a faint, secret satisfaction.
Get them out of the way, a quiet thought gleamed in a few eyes. Let them be sacrificed. I'll climb higher in the vacuum they leave.
Situ Yaoxi's temper, honed over centuries of walking the demonic path, snapped.
Soul force surged around her, curses flaring like ghostly flames.
"Haotian," she hissed, aged face twisting. "Old woman though I am, I am still the Asura Divine Kingdom's Royal Princess! You dare—"
Situ Haotian cut across her words without even looking at her.
"Royal Princess," he said, voice cold and flat. "This is for the Divine Kingdom's rise. Your opinion does not matter. Nor does theirs. Only results."
That line hit harder than any attack he'd launched earlier.
It wasn't just that he was selling them.
It was the casualness.
The ease with which he denied even their right to object.
For a heartbeat, even the demonic wind seemed to stop.
Ren watched the entire tableau with a light chuckle.
"You really are quick to hand them over," he said softly.
His eyes were bright now—amused, yes, but with a sharp edge glinting beneath the surface.
"All for the 'greater good', right?" he added. "How touching."
A thin, cold feeling began to creep up Situ Haotian's spine.
His instincts, dulled by greed, whispered that something had gone very, very wrong.
Ren ignored him.
He turned his attention to the five women whose fates had just been casually auctioned off.
He smiled, a little crooked.
"It's rarer than you think," he said dryly, "to find a Divine Emperor who can even pretend to care."
The tension that had strung them tight made that line land strangely.
Relief edged with wariness.
Situ Yaoyue's fingers loosened by a fraction.
Situ Meiyue sucked in a short breath, shoulders trembling.
Yaoxi's eyes narrowed, reading between the lines.
Qingzhao's lips tensed, but the harshness in her gaze eased just a fraction.
Bi Ruyu's knotted hands flexed once at her sides.
Ren's smile curved a little more.
"Seeing something on your faces besides that cold mask is pretty cute, honestly," he added, tone teasing.
Five pairs of eyes shot him glares of varying intensity.
Yaoyue's gaze was sharp and frosty.
Meiyue's was flustered, stung, unwilling to admit she'd felt anything at all.
Yaoxi snorted, chains around her soul giving a faint metallic clink.
Qingzhao's cheeks colored the barest bit, anger and unfamiliar heat tangled together.
Bi Ruyu gave him the kind of look people reserved for madmen and troublesome children they weren't sure how to scold.
The five of them scoffed, each in their own way.
Ren chuckled, easy and bright in the middle of the oppressive demonic sky.
"People like this are really fickle, aren't they?" he said lightly, jerking his chin toward the kneeling men.
His eyes turned faintly flat.
"Let's shut them up."
Before anyone could react, he flicked his fingers.
Again, there was no blazing light.
No thunder, no sea of flames.
Just a whisper of killing intent descending like hair-thin threads.
To an ordinary martial artist, nothing seemed to change.
To those with sharp souls, it was as if the bones of the world itself had suddenly grown quiet.
Invisible threads of annihilation lanced down through the demonic domain.
They did not pierce flesh.
They hooked into bones.
Situ Haotian's dragon-robe aura shuddered. The Battle Demon Emperor Body phantom behind him tried to roar, to resist—but the Grandmist-touched threads slid into the bones of that phantom like needles into rotten wood.
The Giant Demon's skeleton collapsed with a hollow, muffled crunch, its towering frame caving inward as if centuries of weight had finally broken it.
In the physical world, every bone in Situ Haotian's body fractured at once.
Not into powder, not yet—but into countless fine pieces, each break hair-thin, each one linked by a web of agony. His own true essence lunged in instinctively, wrapping those fragments, forcing them to hold shape.
His limbs buckled.
He slammed back into his crater like a puppet whose strings had been cut, his halberd tumbling from his grasp.
Situ Bonan's fate was the same.
The Bronze Battle Spirit behind him howled soundlessly. Its joints buckled. Its torso caved. The carefully tempered "bones" of that battle spirit splintered, echoing in the old man's body.
His arm bones shattered.
His spine cracked.
His legs folded wrong.
He fell, spear clattering uselessly beside him.
Around them, the nearby Demon Envoys and princes and Imperial Scholars—Situ Chuan, Situ Yangon, Situ Bai, Situ Feng, Imperial Scholar Xuan, others—felt the same threads slide into their joints, their ribs, their spines.
No time to dodge.
No chance to resist.
Knees snapped.
Hips shattered.
Ribs cracked with crisp, sickening pops.
They crumpled where they stood, some falling to their knees, some flat on their faces, their limbs suddenly unable to bear even the weight of their own bodies. True essence flared in panic, trying to hold shattered skeletons together.
Ren didn't kill any of them.
He watched them fall, then smiled—a small, cold curve of his lips.
"You won't die unless I say so," he said, voice mild. "I've got more important people to deal with than you ants."
Situ Haotian tried to roar.
Only a wet, broken croak escaped his throat.
Situ Bonan's eyes went bloodshot with rage and panic. He tried to lift a finger and couldn't. His body refused to obey, bones sending flares of pain through every attempt.