The broken sword trembled, humming with a resonant roar, as if thirsting to drink the blood of a deity. Dark patterns emerged across its blackened blade, one after another, dazzling yet profound. With his final strike, Shi Hao mustered all his strength and swung—yet the projection of the Rain God on the opposite side never opened its eyes. It merely raised a hand and swatted toward him.
There was no way to evade. This was the phantom of a god, omnipresent. That colossal palm blotted out the heavens and earth, enveloping everything, intent on seizing Shi Hao within its grasp.
Then, at last, the broken sword erupted with radiance, cleaving through the massive hand like a black sun. It tore free from Shi Hao’s grip, transforming into a black dragon that coiled around the godly appendage, its roar shaking the nine heavens.
*Pop!*
A soft sound echoed as the half-withered lotus crumbled into nothingness. In the void, the seated projection of the Rain God began to crack, unable to maintain its form. The hand ensnared by the black dragon slowly dispersed, dissolving into a rain of light before vanishing entirely.
What should have been a cataclysmic collision ended in anticlimax—the Rain God’s projection destabilized and shattered on its own, never unleashing the divine might it was meant to. Strands of runic light faded, the luminous rain dimmed, and soon, nothing remained.
Shi Hao staggered, gulping down a mouthful of the sacred Monkey Wine. The sweet, medicinal nectar was the finest restorative beneath divine elixirs. His body crackled as bones realigned, flesh mended, and his entire being shimmered with renewed vitality.
The street was deathly silent, the crowd awestruck. The Rain Clan, at first stunned and disbelieving, soon erupted in fury.
“Rain God—how could this happen?!” they howled, unable to accept the outcome. “Where are you? Why won’t you return?”
For years, their deity had remained silent. Now, its fleeting projection had appeared only to dissipate without a word.
“Kill him!” the Rain Clan roared in unison. They couldn’t allow Shi Hao to recover. Seizing the moment, they surged forward, weapons gleaming, spells flashing.
*Sssshhhk!*
The broken sword swept horizontally, bisecting the first dozen attackers at the waist. Blood gushed as upper bodies tumbled forward while lower halves collapsed.
Shi Hao stood unmoving, his gaze icy as he downed another swig of Monkey Wine. Radiant energy pulsed through him, his wounds sealing before the crowd’s eyes.
Only then did the street erupt in chaos. The Rain God’s projection had failed to deliver its final, devastating blow—and a mere youth had defied the heavens, standing victorious against a divine specter.
“Even a god’s shadow couldn’t crush him…”
Murmurs spread like wildfire. The boy who had once shaken the Void God Realm—the *holy terror*—had returned.
“It’s him! That broken sword… it’s from the Sky-Suppressing Pavilion! He wielded it to slaughter countless in the Void God Realm!”
The revelation sent shockwaves through the capital. The infamous child, the one who had opened *ten heavenly passages*, had reappeared in the flesh.
Rain Clan members trembled with rage. Their god, their invincible symbol, had been defied by a mere boy.
“Gods are not to be insulted!” a thunderous voice boomed from the depths of their ancestral halls. Elders and ancestors, roused from seclusion, emerged with murderous intent.
Shi Hao remained impassive. “Not to be insulted? Yet you insult others freely?”
With a dark chuckle, he sheathed the broken sword and raised his palm. A single strike reduced palaces to rubble, gardens to fissured wastelands.
It was history repeating—first the Great Demonic God, now this youth, tearing down the Rain Clan’s pride.
The elders arrived, their expressions grim. Shi Hao’s radiance dimmed, revealing his true form—still clad in the unyielding black armor, facing them with eerie calm.
“It *is* him,” they confirmed, hearts pounding.
Suspicions long buried resurfaced. Could this boy be the “calamity” they thought dead—the youngest son of Shi Ziling?
Laughter, cold and mocking, was his only reply.
“Bring the Bone-Piercing Mirror!” an elder hissed.
The ancient artifact, capable of revealing bloodline and soul, was unveiled. Its runes shimmered, casting an otherworldly glow upon Shi Hao.
The Rain Clan held their breath.
Then—
“It’s him! *It’s really him!*”
The mirror-wielder recoiled in horror, nearly dropping the sacred tool.
Dread filled the air.
The child they had tried to erase… had survived.
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