The Fox Who Only Loves Money: "Hahahaha… Snake-bro is hatching eggs!! You can be the male mother for this one…"
Spirit of the Demon Sword: "Pff—hahaha! From now on I'm calling him Orochimaru the Egg Incubator. Thoughts on the name?"
Universal Salvation: "I'm Bald; he's Dan… cough, cough… the rest is unprintable. You get the idea."
Ninth Uncle, Slayer of Demons and Exorcist of Spirits: "...There are lady high priests in the group, you bald rascal. Show some decorum. But Orochimaru's eggs really are… substantial."
Tanjiro Kamado: "Are you jealous?"
Chu Dashan: "Men would be, sure—but that's a bit… too… big…!!!"
Vampire Queen: "Isn't it perfectly normal for Orochimaru to incubate snake eggs?"
Blond Boy Sam: "I can tell—everyone's got a [signature move]!!!"
Junior Brother of Dazhufeng: "Seems you're grasping the soul of Chinese wordplay. I could teach you…"
Ninja Scientist: "Oh… speaking of which, all things are cause and effect; everything follows fate!"
Once upon a time, he had counted ten thousand serpents and offered the other shore to the gods.
Now that the world has advanced and his world-rank stands at Spiritualist, the beast he once summoned has returned to his side—allegedly to "deepen their bond."
In truth, they were both incubating eggs.
There wasn't just one sorry case—there were two.
Sighing, Old Gao lamented, "Someone took me down before. Seeing how huge you are now… I feel oddly reassured…"
Pirate King of the Caribbean: "Ah, a long voyage. Grind your keel against the wall for consistency… Orochimaru, hurry and upload the video—let's see how the heroic system functions!"
The group member Ninja Scientist uploaded a video.
The World of Fengyun (The Storm Riders)
The Conqueror stood before a python twenty-nine li long, and the giant serpent was—against all expectation—nesting on an egg. He nearly burst out laughing.
Still, credit where it was due: the aura rolling off the beast was terrifying.
Billions of times more fearsome than the Fire Qilin he had once faced.
Back then, he'd slain Nie Feng's father, which led to the clash with the Fire Qilin. He'd learned then that one shouldn't provoke the world's exotic beasts lightly.
Now—
"If I'm to choose a sacrifice, it must be the Fire Qilin. What could better reflect my reverence for God than that?"
"As long as the world is unified, the world will be elevated. That is the supreme Dao."
Watching the winds and clouds gather beyond his hall, the long-dormant ambition within the Conqueror flared anew.
Once, he'd been obsessed with unifying the martial world. He spent half his life running toward that horizon.
When the World Society became the number one power, a hush followed.
He found it… boring.
Now he understood: the most important thing is to have a dream—a goal. Only then can a man ignite his fighting spirit and live each day to the fullest.
That is life.
Footsteps sounded outside.
Nie Feng, Bu Jingyun, and Qin Shuang entered the courtyard and knelt before the steps.
"Master, we have returned."
Click.
The wooden door swung open, yet no figure appeared.
The three lifted their heads and peered inside.
Though it was bright midday, the room beyond was night-black. All light was devoured.
"Come in."
The voice was faint.
It was the Conqueror.
A chill crawled through the three. The atmosphere was too strange.
They traded a look, then stepped in.
The instant they crossed the threshold, every door and window vanished behind them.
Darkness swallowed the world.
The only light was the one cupped in the Conqueror's hand.
It defied reason—surpassing the trio's understanding of martial arts. Could a single person's cultivation truly drown a room in midnight? Even sunlight could not enter!
"Do you know why I called you?"
"The disciples do not," the three answered as one.
"This time, I unified the martial world," the Conqueror said. "My deeds, though bloody and cruel, have reached the level of gods. If corrected thereafter, Heaven still forgives."
He lifted the light. "I summoned you to ask: will you become believers of the Eternal Faith?"
Eternal Faith?
None of the three recognized the name. But from the Conqueror's tone, they understood: refusal meant a miserable end.
Qin Shuang didn't bother to think it through. He dropped his forehead to the floor. "This disciple is willing to follow Master."
There—that's a wise man. Never mind the Faith itself. Wherever Master goes, he follows. That is loyalty.
"Hahaha… Good. I'll grant you God's power. Go forth."
With a tap of his finger, the Conqueror sent a current into Qin Shuang's spirit. A simple yet fathomless method etched itself into Qin Shuang's mind.
Name: Eternal Meditation.
Nie Feng and Bu Jingyun followed, each receiving the Dharma.
Then the Conqueror dispelled the divine technique shrouding the room and said, "From today onward, the three of you are envoys of the Eternal Faith. For God's glory, we must redouble our efforts."
"This is the true god's method; each of you may walk a different path. It has no flaw."
"Make your preparations. When your attainments ripen, we will go to Lingyun Cave, seize the Fire Qilin, and offer it as sacrifice."
"We obey, Master."
Their eyes had changed. They didn't believe the Conqueror would hand them the strongest cultivation—after all, a strict master leaves the best for himself; everyone knows the saying about disciples starving while the teacher feasts. And if meditation alone could elevate you, swine would climb trees.
After they withdrew, a figure stepped from the shadows behind the Conqueror and knelt.
"You wish to reforge the might of the Nanlin Sword Head?"
"Duan Lang does not dare!"
As one who'd been used like a lump of dough, kneaded at will, he loathed the man before him—yet even so, he did not dare show the slightest dissatisfaction.
The Conqueror now was too strong. Demonic.
"Presumably you saw the Eternal Executor," the Conqueror said mildly. "Here is your chance. Before our sacrifice, go and crush the forces of Unrivaled City. Bring the beauty Mingyue to Lingyun Cave. I will grant you the rank of divine envoy—the same status as Bu Jingyun and the others."
"Yes, Lord Master."
A spark of heat lit in Duan Lang's eyes. He smothered his rebellion deep within. He hated the Conqueror. He, the dignified heir of the Nanlin Sword Sect, had been reduced to pouring tea, bearing insults day after day.
Had he never glimpsed that memory shard, he would have betrayed the Conqueror without hesitation.
But the Eternal Executor… that thing was terrifying. A soul suppressed for a thousand years, atoning daily. The image alone chilled him to the marrow.
Whatever it took, he would endure, if only to obtain power.
And this path promised powerful martial arts.
The Pirates' World
Watching Orochimaru's promoted "world" status, Murong Fu could no longer sit still.
He, too, wanted his world elevated. He wanted to enter the Saints' Graveyard World and contend with the grandmasters there.
Gazing at the golden Dragon of Fate coiling above his domain, flames flickered in Murong Fu's eyes.
"It should be enough. It's time to prepare the sacrifice. The world is on the cusp of renewal…"
Across the archipelago and the surrounding regions, the Eternal Faith had already taken root. One particular renegade faction—a breakaway sect that had hijacked local shrines—refused enlightenment, and even had the gall to rewrite doctrine, claiming the Eternal God was their provincial patron.
How brazen.
After subduing the neighboring isles, Murong Fu rose into the sky and looked down upon the renegade faction's heartland. A cold smile touched his lips.
"Such shameless blasphemy. Prepare for judgment."
He raised his sword.
Power gathered.
Storms braided into a single, spear-keen tip along the blade.
Now that he wielded the Dragon of Fate, his might swelled tenfold.
"Go—Storm Sword Intent!"
Murong Fu roared. The world-rending sword will fell upon the faction's fortress-province. Shockwaves tore through their fortified lines; warlords and zealots alike were crushed in an instant. Their stronghold became a field of scattered rubble.
Murong Fu showed no mercy. His eyes held only indifference—and a curl of mockery.
To him, this was pest control. And these pests had courted annihilation.
He sheathed his immortal blade and rode the wind back to Song-realm lands, ready to begin the rite.
The Dragon of Fate coiling above him looked modest—by design. In truth, it had devoured the dragon-veins of several states and now spanned nearly a million li. It chose to hover close because Murong Fu allowed it to grow and breathe—because he smelled of spirit and sky.
Murong Fu alighted on the terrace.
A steward hurried up and bowed low. "Chief, all the altars are raised. We can begin the sacrifice at any time."
"Good. Use the Divine-Flame Terrace to notify all regions: the sacrifice begins tomorrow."
"As you command."
The Divine-Flame Terrace was a communication engine condensed from altar incense. So long as an altar burned, word could pass between any two sites—an unimaginable thing in ancient times.
In the World of God's Domain
Liu Che had been paying attention.
The gateway from the living realm had fallen into their hands, and the powers across God's Domain were stunned by the strength of the Eternal God's believers. They had thought these "natives" from the underworld would be weak.
They were wrong.
These fellows fought like bandits—snatching whatever they saw, spitting on talk of benevolence or propriety.
A certain lord's mount had once been a beast blessed by a deity. Before the lord could so much as descend to claim it, Li Shimin had stolen it right out from under him—then sacrificed it on the spot.
That mount now served as a plaything for a flock of adorable brutes on Huiyang Planet.
As for Tanjiro Kamado, he'd developed a methodical style. He would courteously announce his credentials before leading a raid. When he was outmatched, Li Shimin would swoop in and relieve him of his spoils.
Merit counted for everything. When it climbed high enough, their divine rank rose with it. No one wanted to linger at four stars forever; deityhood beckoned like a beacon.
"It seems, for the grand worlds, two battlegroups are not enough," Liu Che murmured.
In planar war, too few believers meant too little strength.
Just then, a system prompt chimed in his ear—
Ding…