The world descended into chaos.
Fire rained from the skies. Screams echoed across the broken rooftops. The shimmering fragments of the shattered dome dissolved into ash, and with it, Bai Village was laid bare.
And war began.
Old Bai moved first.
He shot forward like a spear, his body surrounded by a faint gray glow—dark matter, dense and heavy, warping the air around him. He met the fire-wielding youth in midair with a thunderous clash.
The young man laughed as he hurled another fireball the size of a wagon, eyes gleaming with mad glee. "You're strong, old man! But not strong enough! You've been hiding like rats for too long, today you'll receive your judgement for challenging you owners!"
Old Bai didn't answer. He dodged the blast with a spin, closing the distance with frightening speed. His fist slammed into the youth's ribs, shattering the protective barrier around him and sending him flying through a house.
Before the dust settled, the youth soared back into the sky, eyes wild. Flames wreathed his arms like living serpents. "Let's BURN!"
They clashed again and again—flame against gravity, speed against ferocity. Every strike from Old Bai cracked the earth or bent the air. Every explosion from the youth melted stone and turned the battlefield into a furnace.
But it was clear: Old Bai was slowing.
Each burst of dark matter qi took its toll.
And across the square, another storm was brewing.
Old Zhou faced the masked leader in silence. The old master stood with a crooked staff in hand, his face grim, his body emanating quiet resolve.
The masked leader hovered above the ground, silver mask gleaming, crimson cloak flowing like blood in the wind. "I've came to reclaim my lost honor," he said calmly. "This time, I'll take your head."
Old Zhou didn't reply. He raised his staff—and the world cracked.
The ground ruptured as spiritual energy exploded outward. The air twisted under the sheer force of his aura. The masked man smiled behind his mask—and drew a blade that screamed when unsheathed, its edge devouring the very light around it.
Their battle was a blur of destruction.
Old Zhou moved like a mountain collapsing in slow motion—inevitable, massive, deadly. The masked leader danced like wind and lightning, his blade slicing through the air, deflecting each strike with barely an inch to spare. Craters formed where they landed. Whole buildings turned to dust from the aftershocks.
Further down the field, Madam Yue and Lin Kuan fought their own war.
Lin Kuan, silent and cold, was a tempest. His sword was no longer just a weapon—it was a force of nature. Each swing sent shockwaves that tore through enemies like paper. His movements were clean, lethal, beautiful.
Madam Yue fought with deadly grace. Her long sleeves danced through the air, charged with qi that left wounds trailing behind her like phantom blades. Her opponent, a grandmaster with spiked gauntlets and brutal strength, met her strike for strike—until Lin Kuan joined the fray.
Their synergy was perfect.
One cut low. One struck high. They moved as one. Their opponent faltered, then screamed as Lin Kuan's blade pierced his throat.
But there were more.
More grandmasters and more enemies.
The battlefield was choked with combatants—rank ones, twos, and threes.
Adam fought among them.
He had no time to think. No time to plan. Only react.
He blocked a strike from a robed invader, spun low, and drove his fist into their chest. Bones cracked. A second attacker came from the side. Adam ducked, disarmed them, then bashed their face in with the pommel of their own sword.
Everywhere around him, the fight was vicious.
Tier threes fought in desperation, blood and sweat blinding their eyes. Tier twos were faster, stronger—already dangerous. Tier ones were even more inhumane.
At first both sides were equal with them both losing men, this especially hurt Adam. To see that despite all his efforts, villagers were still losing their lives around without him being able to do anything.
After a few hours of deadly battles, with both sides advancing and retreating.
But the balance was finally broken.
The moment the forbidden arts began… everything changed.
Adam saw it—he felt it.
A sudden surge. Screams. Then madness.
The tier twos howled as dark qi burst from their veins, marking their skin with ancient sigils. Their eyes bled. Their nails blackened. And their power multiplied.
One by one, the defenders were overrun.
A masked man screamed nearby, his chest pierced by a burning blade. Another fell, his body split in two by a talisman-infused spear. But the enemy kept advancing with relentless fury.
Adam fought harder.
He had trained. Suffered. Endured. And now—he let it all out.
He ducked a cursed blade, drove his elbow into an enemy's jaw, and stole their weapon in the same motion. He fought side-by-side with a tier 3 villager, then watched her die a second later.
It was carnage.
But for a moment—just a moment—it looked like they might win.
The enemy's front lines began to thin. A group of elite defenders broke through their left flank. Lin Kuan and Madam Yue had carved a path through the enemy ranks. Even Old Zhou seemed to be gaining ground, pushing the masked leader back with each devastating blow.
Hope flickered in Adam's chest.
He turned, searching the sky.
And his heart dropped.
Old Bai was falling.
A fireball had struck him mid-air, the explosion sending him hurtling toward the ground. His body spiraled, flames trailing from his robe, the dark matter surrounding him scattered.
Adam screamed. "NO!"
The fire youth grinned, floating higher with another fireball forming in his palm—twice as large as before. "DIE, OLD SLAVE!"
He hurled it down.
The fire roared toward the falling elder like a miniature sun.
Adam took a step forward—but he was too far.
Too slow.
Too late.
And most importantly, he was too weak.
Then—
CRACK.
A jagged ice barrier burst into existence midair.
The fireball struck it—and shattered into steam.
The temperature plummeted.
The battlefield froze.
Adam's eyes widened as a familiar chill swept across the land.
Everyone—ally and enemy alike—turned toward the sky.
The ice shimmered, glistening like diamonds in the sun.
And behind it… a silhouette was descending.
Wrapped in snow. Eyes cold as winter.