Qian Ye’s gaze swept over the four Secret Sword Envoys, then he nodded and said, “Interesting.”
The envoy who’d just previously self-detonated unleashed immense power—equivalent to a direct strike from a powerful Grand Duke. Moreover, the explosive directionality remained precise; with one breath of demonic energy, nearly the full brunt targeted Qian Ye.
But it did not stop there. Using the explosion’s force allowed him to summon nearby companions directly into the battle’s epicenter. In the explosion’s chaotic whirlwind, a strange, meaningful communication signal sped into empty void. Even an initial attempt by Qian Ye to divine it revealed the envoy’s final moments before suicide detonation—the last images captured.
At that point Qian Ye realized the truth of these envoys. This was a faction utterly indifferent to their lives, using despicable methods without restriction—slaughtering strong enemies indiscriminately via explosives and mass attacks. Utilizing such battle tactics, even someone below in strength could take down higher-tier enemies.
Encircling Qian Ye, the four Secret Sword Envoys ranged in kind—while not all demon-kin, there was even vampire in the group. Gazing particularly briefly at him, Qian Ye’s questioned coldly, “As a creature of vampire descent, are you also foolish enough to attempt my eradication?”
The Secret Sword Envoy revealed most of his obscured face behind an iron mask, eyes void of emotional flicker, cold and lifeless, only returning an icy reply: “At the moment I became a Secret Sword Envoy, everything—my heart’s yearning and existence alike—was dedicated eternally to the Covenant of Perpetual Night.”
“So be it,” said Qian Ye before turning away, unperturbed. A demon-born envoy then stepped forward, saying cautiously, “Lord Qian Ye, should you consider cooperation, it would be far better if you came gently—toward a fated audience beneath the Demon Emperor’s throne.”
“Do you honestly believe that’s a possibility?” Qian Ye scoffed, lips upturned in contempt.
Sighing slowly, he lowered the pressure of his stance, replying, “Very well then; words won’t sway you.” The envoy’s voice chilled once again to its previous sharp edge. “So it shall end here, Lord Qian Ye; this place is your grave.”
“Me?” he challenged mockingly, unimpressed. “You four think you’re enough?”
“We aren’t. Yet additional envoys will arrive shortly. Moreover, you should recognize—four envoys stand sufficient strength alone capable even of killing a Grand Duke.”
A chilling smirk curled Qian Ye’s lips, fingers tightening into fists. This very gesture caused the air around his tightened knuckles to continuously rupture, sending crackling waves of pressure outward.
Watching the dark aura swirl around the clenched fist that held impossible forces the Envoy muttered an astounded oath—”Such unimaginable power—quickly, prevent his strike…!”
Before the words had fully left their origin, Qian Ye moved, arriving in flashes—before impact, shadowy wisps erupted across his punch’s trajectory, generating overwhelming pull. All four envoys found their own force dragging themselves inevitably toward impending impact, with no space to retreat.
The leading envoy barely raised his demonic aura before blackness consumed sight. With brutal pressure from the heavens above and below, he exploded without releasing any marking spell.
Before another pair on the left and right completed their strike, witnessing the leading envoy blown to pieces by one punch, in alarm they each spurted forth a stream of black magic. However before the magic could reach Qian Ye, grey blinding flashes burst, and Qian Ye’s青金 blood sword already had slashed through—cleaving both to halves mid-flight.
Behind, only the vampire had succeeded in initiating his self-sacrificial burst. Waves of raw energy erupted powerfully colliding Qian Ye’s frame. With a thunderous roar armor splintered away—but only so far could the damage hold. The envoy never got to see—what he unleashed at the point of demise was merely enough to scar the flesh with slight wounds.
Invisible scars across Qian Ye’s back vanished before eyes, raw aura cycling through the frame with lightning-like restoration.
Young Zhu Ji, having been flung far from Qian Ye from when the envoys initially appeared, arrived late—the confrontation had ended even before her. Now returning, excitement overcame the moment:
“What’re our orders now?”
Even as she asked excitedly mid-air tackle to the lifeless envoy corpses who had been denied self-detonation by Qian Ye, looting wildly as she spoke.
He gripped the loot-obsessed little one with a single effortless movement and pointed forth. “You move with me—charge.”
“Time to battle?!” She exclaimed cheerfully, already clapping her helm down with “Roland’s Thundering” arm shield ready, then lifting the greataxe known once by Roland’s own legend.
“Protect yourself,” he cautioned—and disappeared.
“Wait for me!!” cried Zhu Ji jumping forth.
No sooner were both gone—having escaped the woods’ canopy shadows—then space contorted revealing seven, eight envoys. Waves rippled outward as more reinforcements continued to arrive through dimensional transfers.
They looked around at nothing but open battleground where three fallen enemies lied. Or rather, perhaps not even complete—where only half feet remained, the other limbs shattered into red mist from Qian Ye’s direct hit.
“He could not’ve gone far! Search—find that path he fled upon!” shouted a commanding voice to the remnants of envoys present.
Even then, across the distant forest, resounding earthshattering eruptions sounded in unison. Entire ancient groves collapsed at shock from each detonation’s waves. As these continued, the current group instantly vanished, emerging instantly in the explosion location—where a new sword barrage descended from above them.
Unwitting of how he still counterattacked within those blast waves, the Secret Envoys could hardly think clearly—just exerting all their strength to fend off these deadly blades.
After the swords came gray, mist-like energy drifting through the air. Contacted with it, one by one the envoys experienced the unbearable sensations: like weights measured in several thousand pounds compressing limbs into sluggishness—movement became sluggish.
That second was when Qian Ye’s silhouette crystallized into a clear existence again as the void mist emerged from the Chaos Domain, spreading forth into the mist strands binding tightly onto every envoy’s presence nearby. Each additional strand of mist caused another trembling imbalance—motion slowing each passing moment. Simultaneously from his frame—threads of blood surged in numbers impossible—impaling effortlessly the forms of six-to-seven other enemy envoys. Blood sucked into the crimson lines left victims desiccated husks; essence entirely drained.
Among them some still countered the technique’s deadly effects to survive with heavy costs. Several rushed to use their last resort—they began spontaneous self-termination. Four bursts simultaneously released concentrated raw power slamming directly onto Qian Ye. Upon dispersal of residue smoke, five envoys arrived newly, staring disbelieving at the destruction field—and at the lone, crimson-stained figure left standing. Blood covered his form—cuts now numerous. From absorbing several consecutive envoy self-detonations his injuries became unavoidably severe.
In center of the remaining figures, an especially superior figure removed his helm solemnly as recognition dawned:
“I am no.3.”
“Thus numbers one and number two still exist? Why not have them join?”
“They…” hesitation gripped 3. “Already perished.”
Raising an eyebrow: “Oh? A misfortune—yet I thought you envoys were all similar in capability among yourselves. But perhaps it isn’t so.”
Wordless at first, a heavy silence followed. The internal awareness among fellow envoys—being one trio-command unit—he indeed felt precisely the number of lives vanished in battle moments ago. The pain, even sharper because he knew—more than two dozen fallen with only less than half completing the sacred detonation.
3 fixed his gaze onto enemy with bitter realization. “Impossible—that overwhelming power…”
“I never desired this battle. But we shall prove our efforts aren’t in vane—it is your day to end here!”
His declaration increasingly frenetic—but Qian Ye regarded him wearily. Looking toward those few still alive:
“Are no more of you left?”
“You wish it ended that easily—however, Secret Sword Envoys vanish no matter what happens.”
Inside his body, vital energies from the slain now fed themselves into the Black Codex where his body transmuted them into chaotic primal source energies—the injuries visibly mended. Moreover—the shimmer of his frame flickered between existences indicating possible use of void stepping abilities any moment he chose.
He had learned to never take these madmen lightly: during earlier periods before the perfecting of his domain, with merely his capabilities against two teams of self-detonating forces at his back it might have pushed him forced escape. Considering their unique team-tracking combination skill, his own void stepping could very probably never evade them completely.
Yet despite everything—including now as things were, he refused any additional detonation’s impact this day.
Seeing his enemy swiftly heal and regenerate strength:
“This intelligence is false—Your actual strength already rivals one who has attained the Sovereign Rank; deploying us here has been a grave strategic mistake.”
“This grievous opinion, you best express it to the Demon Emperor. He might take more notice than I do.”
As 3 made preparations ready to speak another word, a sudden sharp pain overran him—he glanced downward—where a dark, glowing feather had completely embedded itself within his chest. His body’s innate vibrance drained swiftly with regret flashing in eyes now lifeless but powerless even for speech.
Solemnly, Qian Ye spoke:
“I personally would rather not deal another explosion from even high noblemen such the Earl of Glory—thus rest now.”
He fell, yet four remained. Regret passed their expressions, but their collective stare now fixated upon Qian Ye with certainty—as though beholding one destined death.
Observations confirmed—he now saw just remaining four. Should these four even combine in final detonation simultaneously striking Qian Ye at once, even his vitality could never persist.
Suddenly—dimensional pressure increased as shadows emerged: looming and mighty figures slowly stepping forth from the Void.
Exceeding Qian Ye’s height thrice-fold—his immense stature might have swallowed dozens of even him with room to remain.
Gazing down from the towering shape a thunder-like boom sounded through snowy peaks:
“Meeting such glory—that granted by my own hand, the glory of falling on my sword of war—will be your deserved honor.”
Suddenly Qian Ye pieced together the ultimate purpose of Envoys. In fact—Secret Sword envoys weren’t mere killers. They were designed tracking apparatuses. Immune to foresight magics or celestial perception skills—they were linked together through their own communications, location techniques, and teleportation incantations. Upon detection of a marked target—it was akin to all becoming interconnected in forming a capturing trawling net. Even the anti-detection interference methods from Black Codex could not easily mask his location anymore. And tightening at each knot in such net, the inevitable appearance of such Overlord was their plan’s final move.
They were most likely cultivated explicitly for special individuals—and to be deployed like expendables specifically targeting himself… A pity—his Chaos Domain proved more than they reckoned—completely destroying their covert units in one encounter, erasing an army once believed destined to cause unstoppable damage.
Secret Sword Agents themselves had never suspected such a fate; perhaps did the Demon Emperor even anticipate?
Putting his troubling uncertainty aside, Qian Ye faced Lo Sa—this was his first time witnessing the true war form possessed by demon arachnid’s Grand General.
Four limbs of Lo Sa wielded four distinct armaments—one wielded a powerful plasma blunderbuss—the second, a towering shield—third, an immense combat axe—fourth—a colossal warlance. Each weapon bore its unique aura of dark destruction.
Despite encountering an Overlord Qian Ye’s calm expression bore not a tremor, stating calmly: “Do you still have any capability left to trail after me?”
“From today forward, you will need no trackers—because it ends now!” howled Lo Sa. Red aura of flame flared up—power surging uncontrollably, transforming facial details into bestial wrath of terrifying presence.
In full martial fury, he launched one projectile—a massive barrel’s worth of concentrated raw power launched towards Qian Ye!
Steadfast Qian Ye never budged even in slightest evading movement, only placing arms crossed shielding his chest from impact’s path.
The ensuing cataclysm exploded around him—he remained standing in position but flew backward violently sliding his armored limbs along earth, tearing an earth groove behind with arms completely obliterated. Beneath remained powerful arm muscles beneath.
Pupil dilation overtook Lo Sa at sight—their impact barely scratched his target. How could even bloodline descendants of ancient Vampires survive attacks that easily shattered spider kin flesh?
Unmoved, Lo Sa grunted—discarding blunderbuss with ease—he hoisted the great war axe forward and instantly propelled himself at speed unimaginable, covering distance effortlessly in microseconds—blade driving directly into the very center of the human’s chest.
Qian Ye’s twin orbs registered Lo Sa’s speed—his Controlling Eye momentarily delaying his movements in the merest fraction before starting to flicker out of perceptibility—
Then—just at that moment—a figure burst forth like lightning cutting through air—an arrival directly in front Qian Ye with sudden recognition—Zhu Ji!
Qian Ye’s shock spurred a reaction—he reached for the girl mid-speed strike! But while movement carried his intent, he arrived far too late—just as his outstretched fingers sought her—so too Lo Sa descended.
His blade—plunged downward aiming true.
At final possible microsecond—Lo S’a facial features twisted alarm—his lance’s course forcibly altered in full momentum upwards, missing impact point on small form. However, in sheer inertia of the attack, the immense general propelled forward beyond those standing below, past hundreds of air meters away—his form vanishing beyond distant hills.
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