Muramaki Jin's laughter rang out as the battlefield trembled underfoot. "We weren't first—fine. But we won't crawl behind the rest!"
Hei Xu's gaze stayed forward, unblinking. His voice was low, but every word carried a chill.
"We're done measuring strength. Now they'll see why I'm called the Obsidian Shadow's Heir."
As he raised his hand, the shadows around him began to twist unnaturally. The air rippled, and from behind him, a dark robe emerged, weaving itself onto his back as though alive. The temperature plummeted. Darkness clung to him like a second skin.
"The Void Cloak…" one of the enemy lieutenants whispered, his face paling. "He's really using that here?"
Another clenched his weapon tighter. "That Death Arm's supposed to grant him full intangibility. How do we even fight that?"
Muramaki Jin grinned, stepping forward beside his commander. "By dying well, I suppose."
Hei Xu's eyes flared with a violet hue as he extended his hand—and with a hum of ancient power, an obsidian sword materialized, pulsing with a void-like energy.
"This blade," Hei Xu muttered, "was born from the dead stars above the Eternal Abyss. And it only tastes the blood of the worthy."
One of the enemy lieutenants shouted, "Formations! Eternal Arms, now!"
They charged—blades glowing, axes sparking, spears crackling with spirit force—but Hei Xu didn't move. He simply walked forward.
Every attack phased right through him.
"Wh–what?!" one lieutenant shouted, stumbling as his spear passed through Hei Xu's chest without even shifting his robes.
"The Void Cloak… it's not just for defense—he's not even here!" another cried out.
"No," Muramaki Jin corrected, a wild grin on his face, "he is here. You're just already dead."
At that moment, Jin lunged forward. His long sword, now glowing a deep blood-red, whistled through the air. The blade pulled crimson energy from the ground and the corpses nearby, drawing it into itself with a sickening thirst.
The blood pulsed along the runes on his blade, and he smirked as his open wounds began to seal.
"Thanks for the blood. I'll return it… in pieces."
As chaos broke out, the lieutenants tried everything—Eternal Arms techniques, coordinated attacks, elemental bombardments. But nothing worked. Hei Xu moved like a ghost, his robe shifting reality itself. Each strike that should've cut him down passed through harmlessly, while his obsidian sword answered with terrifying finality.
Muramaki Jin danced through the confusion, carving down all who hesitated.
Eventually, only one lieutenant remained, bleeding and exhausted. He dropped to his knees, gasping.
"You monsters… you weren't supposed to be this strong…"
Hei Xu approached, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Then you weren't supposed to stand in our way."
With one slash, it ended.
---
Above the battlefield, Xian Lihua saw the shadow descend. Her eyes widened at the sight of the cloak, the sword, and the devastation.
Yan Mai's smirk faltered.
"Tch… that's the genius of the Obsidian Shadow Empire?"
Xian Lihua didn't answer, her voice caught in her throat.
Hei Xu floated down between them, obsidian blade dripping shadow.
"You've already lost," he said coldly, his gaze settling on Lihua.
Her hands trembled. Not in fear—but in knowing.
She had seen war. She had fought monsters. But never had she seen someone who no longer fought to prove something—only to end it.
She sheathed her blade, knelt slightly, and gave her answer with silence.
On the final battlefield, word of the Obsidian Shadow Empire's victory and the fall of Wu Feng spread like wildfire. But the chaos here was unrelenting—none of the geniuses had the luxury to process it.
"Shin Guo! Keep tearing through their ranks! Let's not stop until we catch up with the others!" Hou Jin roared, slicing down another enemy with a flaming arc of his blade.
Shin Guo grunted in response, his lightning gauntlets cracking the skull of a charging soldier—but his movements were slowing, his breathing heavy. The golden arcs dancing across his arms flickered, unstable.
Just as a barrage of enemy spears closed in, Torra Yun and Shin Aoren flashed beside him. Torra raised both of his soul-grade tonfas, intercepting the barrage with brute force, the sound of metal shattering beneath his Iron Body reverberating through the battlefield.
Shin Aoren, spear spinning like a silver tempest, created a wide arc of destruction, forcing the enemies back. "Guo, fall behind and breathe. We'll cover you."
Elsewhere, Hou Ren appeared beside Hou Jin and Hou Liang, his dual sabers already slick with blood. After cutting down two advancing foes, he spoke quickly, but firmly.
"Don't push forward, cousins. Raikai and Shinryu didn't dive into enemy ranks for glory—they did it to keep our losses low. They're hunting the commander. We just have to hold this line until they succeed."
Hou Liang grit his teeth, slashing his blade through a foe's chest. "You trust them that much?"
"I do," Hou Ren replied. "And you should too."
"Then let's give them the chance," Hou Jin bellowed, raising his blade skyward. "Hold the line! No one moves an inch until they return!"
The shout reinvigorated their side. A temporary calm steadied the ranks—even as bodies dropped and steel rang, the defenders dug in.
Meanwhile, two hundred feet deeper, the battlefield was warping.
Shinryu's gravitational field pulsed out with an eerie hum, the weight of space folding in around him. Every step closer to him felt like dragging one's soul through a black hole. The weaker Sentinels couldn't withstand the pressure. Armor cracked. Bones shattered.
And so, they did the only thing they could—they ran.
Past the two monsters in the storm's eye. Past Raikai, who stood smiling amidst blood and chain, and past Shinryu, whose calm stare crushed morale faster than any blow.
Suddenly, a booming laugh cracked through the air like thunder.
BOOM.
The ground shook. From behind the dust-choked rise, a massive figure stepped forward—a muscular man cloaked in jagged steel, the ground breaking beneath his feet. Behind him stood four lieutenants, their auras sharp, each one radiating power at the peak of the Flesh-on-Bone Fornication Realm.
Raikai let out a short, sharp laugh, twirling one of his chain blades.
"Finally! Their bosses show up."
Shinryu's eyes narrowed as he stared at the commander, reading every twitch of his posture, every vibration in his killing intent.
He didn't speak—but internally, his thoughts were crystal clear:
This one's different.
The pressure this man exuded wasn't just strength—it was command. Leadership honed through blood, trial, and brutality. The lieutenants behind him weren't following him out of fear—they were devoted.
Raikai grinned wide. "Well, Shinryu... it's about time we pushed past our limits, yeah?"
Shinryu finally spoke, calm and resolute.
"No more words. Get ready. This is the real trial."
The wind stilled.
The chains snapped tight in Raikai's hands.
The gravity thickened around Shinryu like a celestial cage.
The true battle had begun.