The Northern Continent burned.
Since the day the ancient seal cracked less than a year ago, its mountains had drowned in abyssal tide. Where once valleys bloomed with rivers and jade forests, now black miasma festered, thick with the stench of blood and demons.
The Blood Trial had begun as duty — sects sent disciples north to hold the line. But within months, it had become a grinder that consumed all who entered.
At the front lines, screams carried on the wind as waves of abyssal beasts poured across the shattered plains. Tens of thousands surged forward, backed by hulking commanders whose roars shook the air. The lines bent and wavered, and every day genius cultivators bled into the soil.
And yet, amid the chaos, certain names burned brighter than the rest.
Xue Yanfei strode at the forefront of Vermillion Sun Pavilion's younger generation. At the Peak Dao Comprehension Realm, her frostfire Dao blazed across the battlefield, crimson flames freezing into brittle shards the instant they struck. Entire swathes of the demon horde were reduced to shards of ash and ice, earning her a place at 14th on the rankings.
Feng Yueru, too, now stood at the Peak Dao Comprehension Realm. Her rise was nothing short of impossible. Barely six months ago she had been a Nascent Realm cultivator, frail and poisoned. Now she carved through demon elites with strikes that warped the battlefield itself.
Her mastery was not lightning alone. Her Dao had unfolded into a rare, terrifying combination: Wind, Lightning, Sword, Space, and Time. Each thrust of her Dao Sword carried thunderous speed, each shift of space and time bent her enemies' reactions out of rhythm. Few outside her sect — and Haotian — knew the truth of her impossible rise. To the world, she was simply a prodigy who had awoken late. Her ranking already placed her at 15th overall, just a single step behind Yanfei.
The whispers spread.
"Yanfei's frostfire devours armies."
"But Yueru's thunder-sword bends space itself. Faster, sharper."Every clash against the abyss fed the rivalry, frostfire storms and five-fold Dao strikes competing in silence.
Ru Mei, at the Late Soul Transformation Realm, controlled the battlefield with flowing rivers of blood. She drowned dozens at a time, her techniques turning entire waves of lesser demons into crimson ruin. Her ruthless precision kept her firmly in 28th place.
Yan Lan, at the Peak Soul Transformation Realm, fought with reckless laughter. Lightning cracked from her blade as she hurled herself into chaos, tearing through packs of demon elites. Her ferocity unsettled her allies, but her results carried her to 23rd place.
Lan Xin, also at the Peak Soul Transformation Realm, was her opposite. Where Yan Lan sought battle, Lan Xin held the line. Her vast barrier domains became bastions for squads who would have been slaughtered without her. Her stability placed her at 31st place.
Together, they were hailed as rising stars of the younger generation, their names etched into the battlefield. But while they climbed the rankings, the abyss did not relent. Each day consumed new lives, each night saw more cultivators fall.
And still, whispers grew:
"The Eternal Yin Orchid Sect has yet to send its Sovereigns. When they come… the war will change."
The Blood Trial had lasted less than a year, and already the north teetered on collapse. Yanfei's frostfire, Yueru's five-fold Dao, Ru Mei's crimson rivers, Yan Lan's reckless lightning, and Lan Xin's unbreakable barriers lit the battlefield.
But none could ignore the looming shadow of Haotian and the Pavilion that had not yet marched.
When they did, even the abyss itself would tremble.
The battlefield never slept. Day and night blurred together in a haze of demon shrieks and human roars, steel clashing against abyssal claws, Dao light tearing through black miasma. For those who survived long enough to fight another day, one truth became clear: legends weren't written in years here, but in breaths.
Among those legends, two names rose above the rest.
Xue Yanfei of Vermillion Sun Pavilion blazed across the front lines, her blade flooding the battlefield with frostfire Dao. Crimson flame devoured the horde only to collapse into shards of biting ice that froze everything they touched. In every clash, dozens of demons fell, their corpses left half-burned, half-frozen. Soldiers cheered her from behind the lines, shouting her name as her storm consumed another wave. Her presence alone demanded awe, her standing etched firmly at 14th on the Blood Trial rankings.
And yet, wherever Yanfei's storm raged, there was also thunder.
Feng Yueru fought not with grandeur, but with sharpness that cut to the bone of reality itself. Each strike of her Dao Sword was more than lightning; it was a fusion of the Five-Fold Dao she had awakened — Wind, Lightning, Sword, Space, and Time. Her blade slipped between heartbeats, bending distance so her enemies were struck before they even realized she had moved. Demon elites crumbled before her precision, their bodies collapsing in silence as thunder rang after the fact.
Her story was whispered more than shouted. Barely six months ago, she had been a fragile Nascent Realm girl, poisoned and overlooked. Now she stood at the Peak Dao Comprehension Realm, her growth so impossible that even seasoned cultivators whispered it was heaven's joke. But her blade silenced every doubt. The rankings had already named her 15th, a single step behind Yanfei.
And that closeness turned whispers into tension.
"Yanfei's frostfire devours armies."
"But Yueru's thunder-sword bends space itself. One strike, one kill."
"Yanfei burns brighter."
"Yueru cuts deeper."
The two never spoke of it, but the battlefield became their silent dialogue. Yanfei surged into hordes with storms of fire and ice, forcing the demons into chaos. Yueru followed with surgical precision, her lightning-sword cutting down commanders before they could rally the swarm. Each tried to outpace the other, to outshine the other, their rivalry blazing brighter than the abyssal flames around them.
And yet it was different at its core. Yanfei's frostfire storm was overwhelming, a sea of brilliance that crushed anything in its path. Yueru's Five-Fold Dao was inevitability — wind to push, lightning to strike, sword to cut, space to fold, time to deny. Frostfire against stormlight, overwhelming force against transcendent sharpness.
The rankings showed them side by side: 14th and 15th.The battlefield whispered of them as though they were already fated to collide.
Behind them, others carved their paths. Ru Mei's rivers of blood reshaped entire skirmishes. Yan Lan's reckless lightning split demon packs apart. Lan Xin's barriers became strongholds in the chaos. They, too, earned respect, but all eyes returned to the storm brewing between two prodigies.
Frostfire and thunder.
Two storms rising in parallel.
Two storms destined to clash.
The northern camp stirred like a storm on the verge of breaking.
Disciples from every sect gathered in the great assembly square, their eyes fixed on the towering mission boards carved from obsidian. The air hummed with tension, the weight of expectation pressing down on every breath.
A Sovereign overseer stepped forward, his aura silencing the crowd.
"Today marks the next stage of the Blood Trial. No longer will you fight only as scattered squads or sect rivals. From this day, you march as one force."
The boards flared with golden light. Rows of names etched themselves across the stone, but instead of splintering disciples into isolated groups, the lists formed a larger picture. Ten teams. Each balanced with talent, each carrying the weight of rankings.
The overseer's voice carried over the murmurs.
"The ten teams will march together. Your target is a demon nest entrenched beyond the Black Fang Gorge. You will exterminate it in full."
A shiver rippled through the crowd. A demon nest meant not just hordes, but organized elites — an army entrenched within abyssal corruption. It was the kind of mission that could slaughter entire sects.
And yet, the Sovereign's words did not end there.
"You will not march alone. To temper you, and to ensure survival, three of the Top Ten Rankers will lead this mission. These are cultivators who have already stepped into the Sovereign Realm."
Gasps tore through the assembly.
From the platform, three figures stepped forward, their auras pressing against the crowd like crashing tides. Even restraining themselves, the difference was palpable — these were Sovereigns already recognized across the continent, their rankings carved into stone.
The first's gaze swept coldly across the crowd.
The second's Dao flared like a rising sun.
The third's killing intent alone forced several disciples to stagger back.
These three would be the pillars of the hunt — but also its judges.
Eyes turned to the younger generation. Names glowed brightest near the top of the boards.
Xue Yanfei, Rank 14.
Feng Yueru, Rank 15.
Both assigned to Team Three, side by side. Frostfire and thunder. Rivalry set to burn in the crucible of war.
Nearby, others stared at their own placements.
Yan Lan, Rank 23. Lan Xin, Rank 31. Ru Mei, Rank 28. Each assigned their teams, their places marked.
No disciple doubted the truth: this mission was as much a test as it was a battle. To fight demons under the eyes of Sovereigns meant every strike would be weighed, every failure remembered. The rankings could rise or fall in a single clash.
Yanfei's frostfire aura flared faintly as she glanced at Yueru.
"So. Together, then."
Yueru's Dao Sword pulsed at her side, the space around her rippling faintly with lightning and wind. She said nothing, but her silence struck louder than any words.
The Sovereign overseer raised his hand, silencing the whispers.
"At dawn, you march. Ten teams, one hunt. The nest beyond Black Fang Gorge will be your trial by fire."
The square erupted with voices, some cheering, some cursing, others silent with dread. The first great mission of the Ten Teams had been set. And when dawn broke, the abyss would learn their names.
Dawn broke red over the northern horizon.
The camp's barrier gates parted, and the ground trembled under the march of hundreds. Ten teams, banners of every sect fluttering in the cold wind, moved as a single column toward the jagged canyons beyond. Armor glinted with morning frost, blades hummed faintly with Dao, and every disciple carried the same weight in their hearts — survival meant honor, failure meant erasure.
At the head of the march strode the three Top Ten Rankers, Sovereign auras wrapped tight but unmistakable. Wherever they walked, the earth seemed to acknowledge them.
The first, his presence sharp as an unsheathed blade, glanced back only once before saying, "Keep pace. Fall behind, and you won't return."
The second radiated calm fire, his steps steady, voice level. "This is not glory-hunting. Discipline will save you more than talent."
The third said nothing. His silence carried more threat than words, the faint curl of killing intent at his shoulder making even veteran disciples avert their gaze.
Behind them, the Ten Teams marched.
In Team Three, tension already simmered. Xue Yanfei's frostfire aura shimmered faintly around her, a storm contained in her veins. She marched with her chin high, the edge of her blade catching the first rays of light.
Beside her, Feng Yueru walked in silence. Her Dao Sword pulsed at her side, the five-fold Dao whispering around her form — wind stirring, lightning crackling, space bending subtly, time distorting just enough to make her steps feel out of sync with reality. She didn't look at Yanfei, but the air between them thrummed with rivalry.
Disciples in nearby teams whispered as they marched.
"They'll clash before the demons ever do.""No — they'll outshine everyone else. That's the danger."
Behind them, Yan Lan laughed as she swung her blade across her shoulders, sparks of lightning scattering.
"Finally, a real fight!" she shouted, grinning at her teammates. "If I don't kill a hundred, I'll call this trip boring!"
Lan Xin, steady as stone, gave her sister a sideways glance. "If you break formation again, you'll be lucky if the demons kill you before I do."
The team around them chuckled nervously. They had learned in training that the two sisters were opposite ends of the same blade: one reckless, one unyielding, yet both indispensable.
Farther back, Ru Mei marched in silence, her Dao Sword across her back, crimson aura pulsing faintly at her fingertips. She didn't boast, didn't glare, didn't even acknowledge the whispers around her. Her focus was absolute, her eyes fixed on the horizon where the gorge loomed like a wound in the earth.
Hours passed. The column stretched for miles, the cold wind howling through blackened cliffs. Everywhere the stench of corruption thickened. The closer they drew, the heavier the air became — abyssal miasma leaking from the gorge ahead.
By midday, the Sovereign overseer raised a hand, halting the march. The canyon mouth yawned ahead, jagged and dark, its walls slick with black ichor. From deep within, a distant roar rolled out, shaking loose stones from the cliffs.
A wave of unease rippled through the disciples. Some gripped their weapons tighter. Others tried to mask their fear with bravado.
The first Sovereign leader spoke, his voice cold as steel."This is where you prove yourselves. Inside that gorge lies a demon nest. Millions of lesser beasts. Commanders. Perhaps worse. Your orders are simple: clear it. Leave no trace of abyssal corruption standing."
The second added, his tone heavier, "Fight as one. If you splinter, you will be devoured. This mission will decide who among you are true contenders in the Blood Trial."
The third Sovereign's gaze swept the crowd. His silence was worse than threats.
The air crackled with anticipation. Yanfei's frostfire flared faintly. Yueru's Dao Sword whispered thunder. Ru Mei's crimson aura pulsed. Yan Lan laughed, Lan Xin scowled, and hundreds more readied themselves.
The Ten Teams stood at the edge of the abyss.
The gorge waited.
And with the next step, the bloodletting would begin.
The wind screamed through the canyon mouth, carrying with it the stench of ash and blood. Black Fang Gorge yawned before them, a scar in the earth, its walls slick with abyssal ichor. From deep within, faint roars echoed, the sound of countless demons waiting in the dark.
The Ten Teams gathered just beyond the entrance, weapons unsheathed, a forest of blades, spears, and glowing Dao artifacts gleaming under the dim light. The Sovereign overseers stood at the fore, their auras pressing down like mountains. None of the disciples dared fidget.
The first Sovereign's gaze was cold. "Inside, the demons number in the millions. If you rush in blindly, you will drown. Plan, or you will not return."
The second Sovereign's voice burned steady. "We will not hold your hands. This is your trial. Show us that you can fight as more than squabbling children."
The third said nothing. His silence was suffocating.
The weight of command shifted to the younger generation. Dozens of eyes turned toward the higher-ranked names. In particular, two figures.
Xue Yanfei stepped forward, frostfire Dao sparking faintly around her as her voice rang out.
"We use the gorge itself. The terrain is narrow at the entrance. If we bait the horde into rushing us there, I can collapse the front in waves. Frostfire spreads too quickly in an open field, but here? One strike will block the gorge mouth in fire and ice."
Several nodded, murmuring at the logic. But before consensus could form, Feng Yueru spoke, her Dao Sword vibrating faintly at her side, the air around her rippling with wind and lightning.
"Gathering them all at once will be suicide. Their numbers are too great. Instead, we move silent first. Eliminate the outer layers of guards without alerting the horde. Thin them before they surge. When they finally come, it will already be too late for them to swarm in full strength."
The crowd shifted. Silent killing. Precision over spectacle. Already the tension between frostfire and thunder crackled like lightning above snow. Yanfei's smile was faint, but sharp. Yueru's eyes never left the gorge.
Then Lan Xin stepped forward, her voice calm and steady as her zither pulsed faintly at her back."Both plans are correct, but they lack unity. I suggest a spear formation for the frontal teams. Yanfei and Yueru can lead the thrust. I will weave illusions through my zither Dao to conceal our movements and distort the demons' perception. The bottleneck will still hold, but their numbers will scatter before they reach us."
Her words settled some of the tension, but it was Yan Lan who broke it with a laugh, her blade sparking with reckless arcs of lightning."And while they're busy smashing into your pretty little spear wall, my team will cover the flanks. If any demons try to circle or burrow, I'll split them in half before they touch our line."
Her grin widened. "If I don't kill a hundred, call me useless."
Several disciples groaned, others chuckled nervously, but no one doubted her ferocity.
One by one, the teams nodded. The plan merged piece by piece, a strategy forged from rivalry, discipline, steadiness, and madness.
Silent killing first, to thin the nest.
Spear formation at the gorge mouth, led by Yanfei and Yueru.
Illusion support from Lan Xin's zither to break enemy cohesion.
Flank defense by Yan Lan and her squad.
The Sovereign overseers said nothing. They merely watched, their eyes sharp, judging.
By the time the last nod was given, the air itself thrummed with anticipation. The plan was set.
At dawn's first flare, the silent killing began. Shadows moved through the gorge, blades whispering, throats cut before screams could rise. Hundreds of demons fell without sound, their corpses dragged into the dark.
But inevitably, the abyss stirred. The gorge trembled with a roar, black miasma boiling outward as the horde awakened in full.
The Ten Teams shifted into place.
Yanfei and Yueru strode forward with their squads, frontliners at the gorge mouth. Frostfire ignited, thunder sang, their rivalry burning side by side.
Ru Mei's crimson Dao and Yan Lan's lightning arcs led the flank teams, intercepting the sides with ruthless precision.
Lan Xin's zither rang behind them, illusions weaving into the battlefield, every note scattering enemy formations.
The abyss surged. The Ten Teams met them head-on.
The battle had begun.