The Spider Demon nearly leaped out of its skin. In the heat of sending a distress call, it had forgotten all about prior conflicts between William and the Clan of Crimson Tail. If only it had realized earlier how deeply entangled William was with the Crimson Clan, never in a hundred lifetimes would it have spoken. It would have sent out the signal directly instead, summoning mighty elders of its own tribe for help. True, such aid came at extreme cost, yet better the price of survival than actual death.
Channeling its will, the Spider Demon pushed off the ground, suddenly shooting into the air. From its grimacing mouth spurt forth a streak of brilliant crimson which it shot skyward.
William, however, darted through the air in the blink of an eye and caught the ascending crimson spark before reappearing right in front of the stunned arachnid, a cruel smirk tugging at his lips as he surveyed his prey with silent disdain.
“You—don’t dare! There’s a standing rule here! We’re not meant to tear into each other!” stammered the creature, fear distorting its tongue as panic set in full force.
“Who said I’d be the one to finish you off?” William taunted in reply. “Other hands await to spill your black blood, and far more eager at that.”
“You… You wouldn’t—!” it shrieked.
Before another sound could form, William transformed once more, turning into his ethereal silver wolf state, biting onto the creature with a snap of bone and talons, ascending to the black embrace of night and vanishing beyond the horizon.
William flew with ungodlike speeds across Nuzhui City—an entire half traversed in but a single breath. As he sped past Zhao Luansong’s encampment mid-flight, an eerie quiet gripped that section of battlefield like a storm’s unrelenting core: untouched, unmoving.
Even in this burning war surrounding the city’s night, a chilling vacuum encircled the Zhao’s great base—it exuded a presence so still all around that even warriors from Eternight dared not approach or challenge it head-on. Yet now, William became the first among Eternight’s champions ever bold—or reckless enough—to cut straight through its sacred airspace.
No sooner had he passed than multiple sharp, chilling pulses of killing intent erupted from beneath his shadow.
Each force coiled into blades rising toward the sky’s height, threatening to pierce intruding nightfall—but William twisted through each with unnatural precision, like shadow dancing within moonlight’s veil, evading every piercing intent. Finally, he let out a great cry and released the still-screaming Spider at the encampment below. Its form tumbled toward the depths below, then turned utterly still—both its cry and shape seemingly vanished midair, dropped from time itself to tumble into oblivion. Zhao’s encampment remained tranquil and unfathomable, like hidden vortex stirring deep in oceanic shadow—ready to swallow any who dare intrude in utter silence.
Within the base, the hooded woman abruptly stood to her feet, anger chilling in her voice.
“One dares overfly master’s domain. How dare they! Let me deal him punishment for so rudely soaring past.”
She readied to spring from seat, only for Zhao Jundu to lift a single hand in restraint.
“Do not act in haste. We were given something worth value tonight. A trespass of small consequence should not anger you, my lady.”
“But he—” she protested, hesitating before the logic of Zhao’s word.
“A man driven to desperation may harbor ill feeling. Such is the nature of vengeance.”
She let out a breath of resignation but pressed the point no further. Her eyes flicked upward questioningly.
“What of the Spider? What is your will regarding that beast?”
“Weigh all the use to be drawn from such prey.” Jundu answered calmly. “Transform him into materials for our ends, if you wish.”
Far across invisible distances, high in heavens beyond mortal reach—unrecorded in chronicles, and untouched by earthly laws—great forces gathered in veiled contest.
From across the stars where cosmic minds collided with shadowless clarity, voices echoed like thunder.
Locksa, Warlord General of the Spiders, howled across thought:
“By right we stood! Your treachery dares tramp upon covenant! Does your kind seek to provoke open war this night, Abromos?”
Abromos countered, his thoughts as vast and echoing as storm-wrapped summits:
“Speak truth, for though your soldier bled beneath claw, it was under mortal blade, in mortal war. William spilled not their life.”
“Yet none but him denied aid to my kind, silencing signals meant to summon life’s rescue,” Locksa growled coldly.
“A cripple with half his limbs gone… Why salvage rot? The fallen waste more time if dragged back. Better lost in fire than to falter your might further with such weakness,” Abromos scoffed, his presence undimmed and even growing stronger against Locksa.
Fury stalled tongue for a moment in Spider Warlord’s being. There rang some cruel truth to this.
The laws of Eternight declared that a Spider Commander would rather cast a dishonored underling into the crucible, condemned to ultimate sacrifice rather than reclaim lost pride, but the sting of submission to a wolf’s arrogance was hard to bear. Yet the matter could still be pressed, until—
From distant black silence came the presence of No-Light Monarch who thrust a psychic barrier through the wrangling giants.
“Focus now—we risk greater ruin! The path of war is deviating! The course ahead grows unpredictable!” commanded the presence.
They had watched closely since the invasion started—their younger elite were stronger in number, yet three imperial stars tore into ranks and hearts like celestial tempests.
Ji Tianqing struck in unarmed form yet every punch struck thunderous ruin: her bare, blunt motions crushed Spiders like kindling fire logs as she shattered every creature across limbs and soul alike.
Li Kuanglan danced with blade in hand faster than eye could track, leaving behind only flashes of ghostly blue light before revealing her enemy torn by ten-fold death. In swift elegance, she wove sword-song across death’s threshold.
They were enough, but a riddle wrapped in familiarity, yet unknown in origin—that was until…
Then there was Qian Ye—stranger still.
He danced the crude art of war—those mundane forms trained by countless imperial troops across ages. His sword, nothing but simple drills and strokes taught in a beginner’s course—but yet he danced in a strange harmony between brutality and grace unlike ordinary forms. The sheer raw execution of every attack sent terror rippling from every enemy’s heart: opponents fell beneath mere moments of combat, and were only just managing escape.
Then an ephemeral thought quivered across the realm: “Twas his strike that claimed Churmen’s life.”
The great warlords fixed their sight with renewed suspicion—but Qian Ye remained shrouded within an inexplicable veil like ghost within storm fog, elusive beyond grasp.
Locksa growled. “Divinations masked again? You dare attempt such illusions before I, the all-seeing?”
Then his intent surged forth into a psychic javelin—aimed squarely toward Qian Ye far down amidst battlefields.
The moment launched his assault, Qian Ye, as though sensing a mountain of death descending from sky, looked instinctively upward.
His short hair quivered involuntarily with raw peril flooding every cell.
He understood with clarity: this blow would end him. It could be nothing but final.
In the next fraction of thoughtless instinct, he dropped heavily upon Yue, summoned forth Huabiansha from within in lightning-like pull; then in unison, a weighty and ancient air arose about him, opposing the colossal consciousness descending with grim intent.
In moment between end and beginning, only Origin’s spear may pierce a slim margin of hope against fate.
But before Locksa could fully exult… a ripple of awareness interrupted his thought—a distant voice rose from shadow.
“This is Yuan Zhang Boqian. Interfering once more, you’ll find yourself removed without further hesitation!”
“What insolence!” roared Locksa, fury mingling with deep fear. “Should you dare shed immortal blood, even you won’t remain unpunished in Council Hall!”
“You speak of Council in future, perhaps,” Zhang Boqian replied in chilling blandness.”But present… your fate will rest upon this battlefield—while every Eternight presence that dares set foot within our capital—will stay buried alongside their mistakes.”
And with that, Locksa’s dominance faltered.
Their prior mental clash ended instantly with the overwhelming mastery wielded by Zhang Boqian, whose combat techniques needed only fleeting instants to seal decisive death. Even amongst Eternight champions—some could survive defeat and flee.
But to confront Zhang? Death would follow in the shadow of a breath unless one claimed total and utter victory.
Thus was it that his mere solo presence on Imperial battlefields held entire factions of enemy warlords at a stalemate when dispatched. His blade danced in absolute domination.
Moreover, here tonight—it was Locksa who broke covenant first.
Though betrayal was common between warring factions, timing determined consequence—a thousand youthful nightborne scions remained vulnerable deep within imperial territory. Should they all fall because a single Spider General’s arrogance, especially when considering Mirthfeather’s witch and her fate, he dared not guess what the Eternal Flame might do back home.
Yet amidst the storm another message rose like whispering fire:
“Enough of childish squabbles!” boomed the presence of Amirós, the lofty one. “Our battle rests solely with matters of Vortex. For this, let these elders refrain interference. Let it be a battlefield shaped solely by young ones!”
Zhang Boqian, calm as dawn, simply gave one short, chilling agreement: “Better.”
Silence fell in higher void again.
On the ground, within city borders, bloodbath escalated by each breath of time.
The imperial champions now aware of Eternight intrusions joined combat frenzied.
However—ambitious youth from darkness fell swiftly into the fight with brutal finesse. Even imperial ranks found wounded and fallen emerging across lines in swift pace as night devoured men whole.
Despite their valor, darkness’ forces began to bend and break beneath the onslaught. This owed much to unrelenting brutality shown by Ji Tianqing and Li Kuanglan, but equal credit must go to Qian Ye’s plain but terrifying efficiency. Since his moment with Locksa’s intent attack—few dared judge lightly his deadly simplicity.
Beyond these top combatants—Zhao Yuying and Song Zining were likewise carving deep into opposition lines, easily overwhelming those once believed worthy rivals—leaving them no breath of respite.
Yet—missing from imperial line was Wepetian Raving Heaven.
When youthful Eternight champions first breached within into his home courtyard—that quiet, modest abode suddenly spewed a swarm from hell itself as ancient beasts surged through darkness beyond gate. Frenzied monsters now hunted every Eternight invader mercilessly.
Unless tempered, for battlefield destruction would threaten Nuzhui defenses further—they all refrained from full power release… otherwise doom might strike even greater and sooner.
And so as the losses accumulated within Eternight ranks, three great figures began whisper in dark circles:
Amirós scoffed first, his voice dripping mockery like blood across snow:
“You saw victory within your witch’s blade—Feng Duozhe should’ve decided it alone. Yet still you meddled… sent young ones. Reaping nothing but defeat after blow?”
Mie Danzuo spat, frost thick in tone:
“A master of Peaks Unseen, yet do you even move one hand while aiding rivals with blades from your kind toward one another? Let that be known come Assembly—it shall burn as stain to your legacy.”
“Crow’s fate,” Amirós replied.
“You focus upon your task. Should anything befall poor Edward, I do hope—Lady of Eternal Night receives your regret properly.”
These words clenched ice upon Mitz Danzo’s mind.
Yes… Edward should’ve reigned supreme—bound by punishment but possessing vast power beyond most emperors. Yet Ji and Lian’s sudden arrival brought new variables even to fate’s thread.
Yet—Qian Ye’s momentary rise of strange ancient pressure still shook even him: such force should not even be conceivable among ordinary imperial ranks.
Thus with no further words, he redirected focus toward Nuzhui battlefield—watching silently from stars the path soon set for the fabled Edward’s return.
In another command tent elsewhere within Nuzhui’s vast war base, Zhao Jundu was laying out a long, jade-green rifle case upon a polished table—fingers trailing slowly along cold surface—
… as final steps were being taken in preparation of fated reckoning.
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