The Martial King was struck by an arrow, blood splattering as he plummeted from the sky, crashing into the courtyard below. Severely wounded, he lost all ability to continue the battle. At this moment, the world fell into an eerie silence, stretching for a long time. Such an ending was beyond belief for many. The Martial King—defeated! A man who had once roamed the wilderness, commanding storms and thunder, whose name alone could shake the very foundations of the Stone Nation, now lay in defeat, his blood staining the earth. How could this not shock the world?
For years, though rarely seen, his reputation had remained unshaken. None had anticipated such an outcome. Finally, the imperial capital erupted in chaos as the battle concluded—the Martial King utterly defeated, pierced through by the fifteenth elder’s arrow, rendering him powerless to fight further.
Nobles and great clans alike buzzed with heated discussions. The battle had been astonishing, lasting no short time, yet ending in such a manner. Whether among the royal families or ordinary cultivators, excitement ran high, the clamor rising to the heavens. Streets and alleys alike were restless, for this storm of events would undoubtedly sweep across the land, remaining the hottest topic for days to come.
Within the Martial King’s residence, Shi Yuan and his companions paled, their spirits crushed. If even the Martial King had fallen, how could they ever turn the tide? To them, the world itself seemed overturned—a merciless, brutal defeat that left their hearts cold.
Meanwhile, the fifteenth elder’s old comrades were first stunned, then overjoyed. This outcome had far exceeded their expectations. “How could this be? I refuse to believe it!” roared one deposed elder, his body trembling, eyes bloodshot as he glared at the fallen Martial King. Shi Yuan and his faction stood ashen-faced, mouths agape yet speechless.
“Old Fifteen, are you alright?” called out one of his brothers, fearing he too might be gravely injured.
In the sky, the Great Demon God’s radiance dimmed, blood trickling from his lips. Yet his spirit burned fiercely, like an unquenchable furnace, his gaze deep and piercing, occasionally flashing like lightning. As he descended, wiping the blood from his mouth, his towering figure—having felled the Martial King—truly lived up to his name, striking awe into every heart.
A true Great Demon God!
In the distance, the Martial King struggled to rise, a gaping wound in his left ribs, bones shattered. Any further battle would mean death. He remained silent, his expression hidden beneath a resurgence of divine light.
“I am defeated,” he uttered these three words before striding away.
“Martial King!” Shi Yuan and the others cried out.
“I have no interest in the title of Martial King,” the Great Demon God said calmly.
“Behind Yi’er stands a supreme power. Neither you nor I can halt his rise,” the Martial King paused briefly, speaking these words before continuing toward the palace complex. Yet soon after, he collapsed with a thud, unconscious.
Some rushed to his aid, carrying him to a quiet chamber for treatment.
With a wave of his hand, the Great Demon God recalled nine great banners, shrinking them to palm-sized before they vanished into his grasp. The grand formation encircling the Martial King’s residence dissolved.
Silence reigned within the estate. None dared speak. Shi Yuan and his faction, drenched in cold sweat, could no longer stand, collapsing to the ground in despair. To them, the sky of their lives had darkened—hope lost. With the Great Demon God’s return, would he now rule the Martial King’s residence? How could they endure what lay ahead?
Suddenly, rain began to fall, light at first, then heavier.
The Great Demon God’s eyes blazed with fury as he roared, “Rain Clan! Do you seek death?!”
His voice shook the imperial capital, his wrath palpable.
“Fifteen, your temper is too fiery. Is this how you treat a guest?” came a serene voice.
“And what makes you think you can provoke the Martial King’s residence? Do you wish to bring calamity upon your clan?” the Great Demon God retorted.
This was no natural rain—it was conjured, heralding the arrival of a mighty figure.
“Rain King!” someone gasped in recognition.
“Old Fifteen, your temper is excessive. I come as a guest, yet you greet me with hostility. Is this hospitality?” the Rain King said, his form wreathed in shimmering raindrops, ethereal and indistinct.
“Cease your rain. Do not overstep. The Martial King’s residence is no place for your arrogance!” the fifteenth elder growled, his expression dark.
The Rain Clan, dwelling in watery marshes, wielded mastery over rain—a power now turned into blatant provocation.
“Old Fifteen, you accuse without inquiry. Your words are too harsh,” the Rain King chided.
“And who is the true aggressor here? You know well. But no matter—this is no ill omen for me. Sooner or later, I will visit the Rain Clan,” the fifteenth elder said coldly, recalling the repeated ambushes Shi Ziling had endured, the near-fatal attacks on their journey west with the weakened infant Shi Hao.
“Two choices: leave now, or wait for me to defeat you and then march upon the Rain Clan!” the Great Demon God declared, his voice icy.
The rain intensified, each drop a potential weapon poised to engulf the entire Stone residence.
The Martial King’s household seethed with indignation. How dare the Rain King act so brazenly? The Great Demon God’s defiance stirred their hearts, a cathartic release.
Outside, the clans watched in astonishment. No sooner had one battle ended than another conflict arose—unexpected, yet perhaps inevitable.
“Very well, let me state my purpose. I come to aid the Martial King, to help cleanse his house. Old Fifteen, your arrogance knows no bounds! Returning after years away, you dare such treason!” the Rain King suddenly thundered.
“Who do you think you’re shouting at? Do you court death?” The Great Demon God gripped his mighty bow, his gaze piercingly cold.
“The Martial King would never invite him!” the fifteenth elder’s brothers fumed. Even in disagreement, the Martial King would never seek the Rain Clan’s aid.
The Rain King’s audacity suggested hidden backing. He could not surpass the Martial King—his confidence hinted at formidable means.
“I act in the Martial King’s stead, to purge his house. Old Fifteen, you’ve gone too far. Years away may have strengthened you, but not your humility,” the Rain King said.
“What gives you the right to speak so in the Martial King’s residence?” The fifteenth elder nocked an arrow, the bow glowing with radiant sigils, a black-and-white shaft aimed skyward, blazing with power.
The Rain King paled. Facing the peerless archer, even prepared, he felt unease.
With a resonant twang, the Great Demon God loosed his arrow. It tore through the rain, shattering watery runes, its passage like a mountain hurled at the Rain King.
The Rain King dodged, but the arrow—unerring—pursued relentlessly.
Halting, the Rain King summoned a radiant artifact, its light blinding.
*Clang!*
The impact reverberated like divine thunder, deafening, dizzying. The arrow struck the luminous shield but failed to pierce it. Yet the force sent the Rain King flying hundreds of feet backward.
Such was the arrow’s might—like a mountain’s weight.
Regaining his stance, the Rain King hovered aloft, retracting the glowing object.
The fifteenth elder’s expression hardened. “That is tied to a deity.”
Silence gripped the onlookers. Fear rippled through them as they stared skyward.
“Old Fifteen, do you fear now?” the Rain King asked, shrouded in mist, his tone coolly composed.
Rain fell in sheets, veiling the world in a shimmering haze of enchanted droplets.
“I know not what emboldens you to spout such nonsense here. You court disaster for the Rain Clan!” the Great Demon God declared, his voice a sentence of doom.
“I said I act for the Martial King, to cleanse his house. My presence is not unwarranted,” the Rain King replied, ever calmer.
“Who are you to decide?” the fifteenth elder’s brothers shouted, wary of the Rain King’s hidden schemes.
“It was I who invited the Rain King. He has every right to be here—as kin to Yi’er.”
A figure emerged from the rain, each step harmonizing with the world itself, exuding immense pressure.
“It’s you!” elders gasped.
“Zi Teng, is that you?” Shi Yuan quavered—this was his grandson, Shi Yi’s father.
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