The crimson portal did not open; it hemorrhaged. Lin Chen stepped through and was baptized into an eternity of conflict. There was no ground, only a churning, infinite River of Blood, its waves the color of rust and rage. The corpses of forgotten Immortals formed temporary islands, while in the distance, swords the size of mountain ranges clashed in a slow, perpetual dance of annihilation.
This was the Crimson War Court, a realm where battle was not an event, but the very state of existence.
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At the heart of the maelstrom stood a figure who was the embodiment of the realm. The Crimson War God, Zhan Kuang. His body was a tapestry of scarred celestial steel, his hair a raging corona of blood-flame, and his eyes held the raw, undiluted lust for combat. In his hands, the axes Blood Reaper and Soul Cleaver wept divine ichor.
His laughter was the sound of shattering shields and breaking bones.
"FIRST FLAME!I SMELL THE SCENT OF A THOUSAND BATTLES ON YOU! THE ASH OF CONQUERED REALMS CLINGS TO YOUR SOUL! FIGHT ME, AND LET US CREATE A LEGEND… OR BE SWEPT AWAY AND BECOME A FOOTNOTE IN MY ETERNAL GLORY!"
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Zhan Kuang did not wait for a reply. He charged, and the river charged with him.
Blood Reaper: First Form — River Sever
The entire River of Blood rose as a single,sentient tsunami, a wall of liquid carnage intent on drowning Lin Chen's very essence. Lin Chen met it with Heavenslayer.
Heavenslayer: Sixth Form — Blood Ash Tide
His slash did not part the wave;it purified it. The blood did not fall back as liquid, but turned to fine, grey ash, the inherent violence within it burned away.
Second Form: Soul Cleaver — War God's Fury
A hundred thousand axe shadows filled the space,each one a phantom capable of shearing a soul from its moorings. Lin Chen became a vortex of motion, his Solar Phoenix Wings of ash flaring.
Ashen Starblade: Seventh Form — War Phoenix Dance
A million counter-strikes met the onslaught,a beautiful, deadly ballet that shattered every axe shadow into harmless light. For the first time, Zhan Kuang bled, his celestial steel skin cracking.
Third Form: Crimson Annihilation
Enraged,Zhan Kuang ignited his own domain. The river turned to plasma, a superheated explosion of divine violence that vaporized the very air. Lin Chen's True Immortal Body was unmade, melted to his very bones. But the Jade Lotus Seed in his palm pulsed, and from the cinders, he was Reborn, his body reforged, harder and more resilient than before.
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In that cycle of death and rebirth, amidst the absolute chaos of battle, Lin Chen understood. This was not mere combat; it was a language, and he was becoming fluent. He roared, and the power within him evolved.
First Flame Mantra: Eleventh Stage — War Authority
He did not just fight; he began to consume the conflict itself. The ambient blood-Qi, the clashing wills, the very essence of slaughter—his Ascendant Flame drank it all, growing denser, hotter, more potent. His will expanded, becoming a palpable force that could command legions. The River of Blood itself seemed to still, kneeling before this new master of war.
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To his astonishment, Zhan Kuang stopped. The battle-lust in his eyes cleared, replaced by a profound, weary clarity. His axes lowered.
"You fight… not like a challenger, but like a True War God returned,"his voice was a gravelly rumble, stripped of its earlier frenzy. "But you are not my enemy. They are."
He pointed a trembling finger, not at Lin Chen, but at a phantom that materialized behind him—a perfect, hollow copy of Zhan Kuang, its eyes glowing with sterile gold, a visible seal of the False Gods pulsing on its forehead. The true Crimson War God had been a prisoner in his own realm, a puppet forced to wage endless war for the amusement of the Citadel.
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The revelation cut deeper than any axe. Lin Chen moved not with anger, but with purpose. Heavenslayer flashed, its edge singing a song of severance. It did not strike the puppet, but the invisible chains of divine law that bound the true Zhan Kuang to his own fury.
The chains shattered. The golden-eyed puppet dissolved into mist.
Freed from his eons-long imprisonment, the immense power of the Crimson War God compacted. He flowed into Lin Chen, not as a submission, but as a merger, branding his chest with a fierce, swirling blood tattoo. The Crimson War Bloodline was his. His War Authority solidified, becoming absolute.
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With Zhan Kuang's liberation, the entire realm awoke to its true master. The River of Blood surged, and from its depths rose the spirits of millions of warriors who had fallen in this eternal conflict, their eyes now clear, their wills unified.
The Crimson War Army was born.
A voice, familiar and fierce, echoed in Lin Chen's mind, the voice of the tattoo on his chest: "LEAD THEM, BURNER OF HEAVEN. I AM YOUR FURY, YOUR UNLEASHED AXE."
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The sky of the war-torn realm split with a sound like tearing metal. The Third Executioner, Wu Dao, descended. He was a being of pure, absolute void, a walking absence with a blank, featureless face. In his hands, he held not a weapon, but the Mirror of Truth.
"BY ETERNAL EDICT," his voice was the silence of erased history, "THE FIRST FLAME IS TO BE REFLECTED, UNDERSTOOD, AND SUBSEQUENTLY ERASED."
The mirror glowed, and it showed Lin Chen not one future, but a thousand. A thousand different, gruesome, inescapable deaths.
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Wu Dao: Reflection of Annihilation
The thousand deaths in the mirror became real.Lin Chen was struck by all of them simultaneously. He was beheaded, disintegrated, soul-scoured, unmade. He died a thousand times in a single, agonizing moment.
And a thousand times, the combined power of the Jade Lotus Rebirth and his newfound War Authority brought him back. Each death was a lesson; each rebirth, a refinement.
He looked into the mirror, at the thousand dying versions of himself, and saw not his end, but his defiance. Heavenslayer rose.
Eighth Form — Flame That Defies Reflection
He did not strike the mirror's surface.He struck the idea that his fate could be captured and contained. The Mirror of Truth, unable to hold a will that rejected all predetermined outcomes, cracked from edge to edge.
Wu Dao's blank face shattered like porcelain, revealing not a being, but a hollow puppet, its strings pulled by a distant, cold intelligence.
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The puppet dissolved, and in its place, a shimmering hologram resolved. It was a man of severe, imposing beauty, clad in robes of absolute order. The False God of Order, Tian Xu.
His voice was devoid of any emotion, a perfect, cold calculus.
"You break our toys.You disrupt the balance we have meticulously maintained. We have tolerated your disruption long enough. The Celestial Citadel will no longer send its hounds. We will come ourselves."
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As his words hung in the air, the entire River of Blood froze solid. From the torn sky, a magnificent, terrifying Golden Staircase descended, each step carved from divine law, leading up into the clouds towards the shimmering spires of the Celestial Citadel.
At the top, in a throne room visible through the rift, were nine thrones. Eight were occupied by figures of immense, dreadful power. One, the central throne, stood empty.
A single voice, composed of nine perfect, harmonized wills, spoke directly into Lin Chen's soul:
"FIRST FLAME.A SEAT AT THE TABLE OF CREATION AWAITS. COME, TAKE YOUR PLACE AMONG US… OR COME, AND BE THE FLAME THAT BURNS THIS ENTIRE PANTHEON TO THE GROUND."
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