Leon's blade moved.
There was no flourish, no blinding flash of light, no dramatic roar of qi tearing through the heavens. It was a single, clean swing, executed with the calm precision of a man who had killed far too many things to find excitement in it anymore.
Yet the moment the blade completed its arc, the world reacted.
The air screamed as space itself warped, a crescent-shaped pressure wave carving through the sky. Clouds were severed cleanly in two, the cut so precise it looked as though the heavens had been sliced by an invisible god. The battlefield froze, every cultivator instinctively holding their breath.
The **Crimson Devourer** took the hit head-on.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then the chains binding the War Corpse shattered, exploding outward like shrapnel. Ancient demonic runes ignited violently across its body, flaring bright crimson as they struggled to compensate for the overwhelming force bearing down on them.
The massive corpse staggered.
Its chest split open along a perfect diagonal line.
A deep, resonant crack echoed as the demonic core embedded within its torso fractured.
The Black Fang commander's smile vanished.
"No—!"
The Crimson Devourer let out a roar of agony, its soundwave rolling across the battlefield like a physical удар. Ironblood disciples were forced to brace themselves as rocks were torn from the mountainside and hurled into the air.
But Leon didn't stop.
He stepped forward.
The pressure around him intensified, compressing the air until it glowed faintly red. Ironblood Peak itself seemed to lean toward him, ancient formations responding to his presence like loyal hounds answering their master's call.
Leon raised his blade again.
"This is your flaw," he said calmly, his voice carrying unnaturally far. "You rely on things that cannot adapt."
He brought the blade down.
The second strike wasn't aimed at the corpse.
It was aimed at the **formation** controlling it.
The invisible lines of demonic energy anchoring the Crimson Devourer to the war barges were severed instantly. Runes flickered, destabilized, then collapsed in a chain reaction of violent implosions.
High above, the war barges shook.
Elders aboard them screamed in panic.
"FORMATION FAILURE!"
"STABILIZE IT—NOW!"
Too late.
The Crimson Devourer's core imploded.
The explosion was silent for a fraction of a second—then reality caught up.
A shockwave of demonic energy erupted outward, devouring everything in its path. Ironblood's defensive arrays flared at maximum output, layers upon layers reinforcing each other as Leon extended one hand, his aura wrapping around the mountain like an unbreakable shield.
The explosion slammed into the barriers.
The first layer shattered.
The second cracked.
The third held.
Barely.
But Ironblood Peak stood.
When the light faded, the Crimson Devourer was gone—nothing left but fragments of ash drifting through the sky like black snow.
Silence fell over the battlefield.
Even the wind dared not move.
Then—
A roar erupted from Ironblood's ranks.
They had just witnessed something legendary.
A War Corpse.
A weapon meant to exterminate entire sects.
Destroyed in moments.
Ye Tian hovered above the battlefield, chest tight, eyes fixed on Leon's back. He felt it—deep in his bones.
This was the gap.
This was what true power looked like.
Not borrowed strength.
Not forbidden weapons.
But absolute control.
---
The Black Fang commander trembled.
Not from injury.
From rage.
"You… destroyed it," he hissed. "Do you know how many lives—how many years—went into creating that War Corpse?!"
Leon turned slowly.
His gaze locked onto the commander like a guillotine descending.
"I don't care."
The commander screamed and unleashed his full aura, demonic qi exploding outward in a storm of crimson lightning. The sky darkened again as he charged Leon, clawed gauntlets igniting with killing intent.
"I'LL KILL YOU MYSELF!"
Leon didn't retreat.
He didn't dodge.
He met the charge head-on.
The two collided in midair.
BOOM!
The impact was catastrophic. Space fractured, shockwaves rippling outward and flattening everything beneath them. Mountains cracked. Trees were uprooted. Cultivators on both sides were forced back, barely able to withstand the pressure of two Nascent Soul titans clashing.
The Black Fang commander struck first, his claws tearing through the air toward Leon's chest.
Leon blocked with the flat of his blade.
CLANG!
The sound rang like a divine bell.
The commander's eyes widened as his arms went numb from the impact.
"What—?!"
Leon countered.
A punch.
No technique.
Just raw, overwhelming power.
The commander was sent flying, smashing into a distant cliff and embedding himself deep into solid rock. He coughed blood violently, bones cracking under the force.
Before he could recover, Leon was already there.
"You're slow," Leon said.
He kicked.
The cliff exploded as the commander was driven back into the battlefield below, creating a massive crater upon impact.
Ironblood disciples stared in awe.
"This is… sect master-level combat…"
"No—this is Leon."
---
Ye Tian snapped out of his daze.
"First Division!" he roared. "Push them back! Enemy morale is broken!"
The effect was immediate.
With the War Corpse destroyed and their commander being dominated, the Black Fang Division began to falter. Demonic cultivators hesitated, their formations unraveling as fear crept in.
Fang Chen led a brutal charge, laughing wildly as he smashed through enemy lines.
Lan Mei's frost spread like a plague, freezing fleeing enemies midair and shattering them into pieces.
Ye Tian moved like a wraith, his blade harvesting lives with ruthless efficiency. His war talent pulsed violently, feeding on the chaos, refining his killing intent with every fallen foe.
**Ding!
War Contribution Increased Significantly.
Dominance of the Slain – Proficiency Rising.**
He barely noticed.
His eyes were fixed on the crater where Leon and the Black Fang commander clashed.
---
The commander staggered to his feet, blood streaming down his face.
"You think this is over?" he snarled. "The Demon Sect has more weapons. More elites. This war—"
Leon appeared in front of him.
"So do we."
He grabbed the commander by the throat and lifted him effortlessly off the ground.
The battlefield went silent.
"This war," Leon continued calmly, "ends the moment your sect forgets how to threaten Ironblood Peak."
The commander struggled, clawing at Leon's arm, but it was useless.
Leon tightened his grip.
Crack.
The Black Fang commander's neck snapped.
His body fell lifelessly to the ground.
For a moment, no one moved.
Then Ironblood erupted.
The remaining Demon Sect cultivators broke completely, fleeing in all directions. Some were cut down. Others escaped, carrying terror back to their sect.
Leon looked across the battlefield once more, then turned toward Ye Tian.
"Clean up," he ordered. "Interrogate prisoners. Gather intelligence."
Ye Tian bowed deeply. "Yes, Sect Master."
Leon's gaze lingered on him for a brief moment.
"You're growing faster than expected," he said. "Be careful. The higher you climb, the more eyes will follow."
Ye Tian nodded. "I understand."
Leon turned and walked back toward Ironblood Peak, his presence receding but his authority lingering like an unmovable mountain.
As the sun finally broke through the clouds, its light illuminated a battlefield soaked in blood—and a sect that had just declared its dominance to the entire region.
Far away, in the depths of the Demon Sect, alarms rang.
New strategies were being formed.
New monsters were being prepared.
And at the center of it all, a single name was being whispered with fear and hatred.
Ye Tian.