The northern mist swallowed the world.
Cold, silent, and suffocating—only the sound of the wind from Tianmen swirled among the ruins.
A black horse stood on the peak of a hill, its eyes gazing at the red valley below—Tianmen City, which now burned like hell on earth.
From the hilltop, it was clear:
Han banners flew on the towers, their soldiers patrolled among the remnants of the Xiyang troops' corpses.
The smell of burning flesh mixed with iron and blood.
And beside the horse, Lin Xuan stood.
His robe fluttered in the wind, and in his hand, a red oni mask reflected the firelight in the valley.
He stared at it for a long time—cold, unemotional—before slowly raising it to his face.
Lin Xuan wore the mask slowly.
In that instant, the air around the hill changed.
The wind ceased, the birds flew away, and the fire below swayed strangely, as if aware of the arrival of something that should not exist in this world.
He took one step forward.
The ground under his feet cracked—and his shadow disappeared.
At the Main Gate of Tianmen
Thirty Han soldiers stood guard at the front gate.
They were bored, some sitting against the wall, laughing softly.
Until one of them stopped talking.
"What is that... in the mist?"
From a gap in the fog, a silhouette walked slowly.
His pace was unhurried, but every step echoed like a war drum's beat.
When the torchlight touched his face—they saw him.
The red mask.
Dark eyes. Irregular breath behind the metal.
One of the guards yelled in panic, "D-devil! It's the Red Devil!"
Too late.
Lin Xuan had already vanished from where he stood.
Suddenly the soldier's head flew into the air, blood spurting like rain.
The black sword shimmered in the air, and the sound of Lin Xuan's steps was heard behind the headless body.
Within seconds, he was in the center of the formation.
There were no screams, only the sound of metal and tearing flesh.
Every slash was a perfect straight line; every head fell without a chance to shriek.
The blood formed a strange script on the ground—like an opening spell from hell itself.
The archers on the towers shot flaming arrows.
Hundreds of arrows launched from the sky.
Lin Xuan paused briefly... then raised his hand.
The mist around him clumped together.
Instantly, a black dragon shadow emerged from the ground, spinning in the air, then sweeping the towers like a storm.
Screams and fire merged; the stone walls crumbled, the towers burned.
All vanished in one breath.
When the dust settled, out of a hundred guards, not one was left standing.
Lin Xuan walked through the gate, as if nothing had happened.
Inside Tianmen Fortress
The fortress was now merely a labyrinth of corpses.
Han soldiers ran frantically among the burning buildings, shouts for reinforcements mixing with the smell of blood and smoke.
"The enemy! The enemy is inside the fortress!"
"How many—"
"ONE!"
And that one was destroying everything.
Lin Xuan walked slowly among them.
Not running, not screaming—just walking.
But every step was followed by death.
A soldier tried to stab him from behind.
The counter-slash came first—the soldier's arm dropped, followed by his body splitting in two from the shoulder.
Two others tried to attack simultaneously—Lin Xuan twisted his body, the black blade spinning fast like the wind.
Three heads were separated in one movement.
A Han troop unit of a hundred men advanced from the west side with long spears.
They lunged together—
Lin Xuan plunged his sword into the ground.
A black aura exploded from below.
The ground fractured, the spears bent, bodies were lifted into the air like dolls, then slammed against the wall and stuck there—impaled alive by rock fragments.
A rain of blood fell amidst the fire.
Until he finally stopped in front of the dungeon door.
Thick, guarded by elite Han soldiers in full armor.
They prepared arrows, tight formation, and steel shields.
"Whoever you are!" their captain shouted. "This is Han territory! Surrender!"
Lin Xuan lowered his head slightly, then raised his face.
The red mask smiled faintly under the firelight.
"I told you, you're not facing a human."
Then he moved.
The world exploded in a second.
The iron gate burst inward, bodies were hurled into the air, blood mixed with dust.
The elite Han soldiers tried to hold their ground, but every one of Lin Xuan's blows shattered their bones like brittle wood.
When it was all over, all that remained was a sea of flesh and fire flowing down the prison stairs.
Lin Xuan descended.
Tianmen Dungeon
Dark.
Damp.
Only the sound of chains, weak sighs, and suppressed weeping.
When Lin Xuan's steps were heard descending the stairs, everything went silent.
One by one, the prisoners raised their heads.
The firelight illuminated his red mask, piercing the darkness—
and the remaining Xiyang people began to tremble.
Some cried, some prostrated themselves.
"I-it's impossible..."
"The Legend... the Red Devil..."
In the farthest cell, General Hwang sat leaning against the stone wall.
His face was scarred, his eyes dim.
But when he saw that shadow standing before him—his eyes suddenly came back to life.
"No..." he murmured softly. "I'm dreaming... I died... this is impossible..."
Lin Xuan drew his sword and struck the steel chains holding Hwang.
The chain snapped like glass.
The blue light from the blade reflected on Hwang's startled face.
Lin Xuan spoke softly, yet every word carried a heavy echo.
"Rise, General Hwang. Xiyang is not dead."
Hwang stared at him for a long time, his breath caught.
That tone of voice, the standing posture, the aura of a killer that was perhaps exactly...
Like the legend told on the night of Tianmen five years ago—
the night when a single red-masked figure destroyed a Han army and vanished.
His hand trembled.
"You... the masked man... the Red Devil...?"
Lin Xuan was silent for a moment, then slightly opened his mask—just enough to reveal his eyes.
That gaze... calm, but carrying the exhaustion of a thousand battlefields.
"I am no devil, General. I am only a shadow that has yet to atone for its sins."
Tears streamed down Hwang's cheeks—not from fear, but from hope.
He bowed, then slowly knelt.
"Then, take me out of this hell. And let me fight for Xiyang once more."
Lin Xuan looked at him briefly, then helped him to his feet.
"We will start with the surviving remnants."
Dawn was approaching.
The sky was purple, and the fire from the fortress began to fade.
Dozens of prisoners stumbled along behind Lin Xuan and Hwang.
The surviving Xiyang soldiers now numbered in the hundreds—wounded, weak, but their eyes were lit again.
They all stopped at the open gate.
Lin Xuan looked at the southern valley.
"Go immediately to Luyang Forest. We will meet Xu Heng there. Longyuan... can still be saved."
Hwang looked at him, breathing heavily.
"Xu Heng?"
Lin Xuan glanced back—at the sea of fire and the thousands of Han corpses he left behind.
"We must hurry."
Han Headquarters - Hei Zhen's Grand Tent
"WHAT?!"
Hei Zhen's voice shook the grand tent.
He slammed his spear on the table until it shattered.
"A thousand of my men! All dead?!"
The young commander knelt trembling.
"More than two thousand, General! The dungeon is burned, and General Hwang... has disappeared!"
Hei Zhen growled.
Black lightning crackled around his body, a sign that his spiritual energy was becoming uncontrollable.
"That shadow... he's back..."
He stared out of the tent—towards the Tianmen fortress, which was now just ashes.
"The Red Masked Man... you think you can scare me again?"
A long trumpet sound echoed from outside.
A scout rushed in.
"General! The main Han army has arrived! A hundred thousand soldiers led by General Han Mu! They carry a direct order from the Han Emperor!"
Hei Zhen laughed shortly, loud, insane.
"Good. Perfect."
He grabbed his spear, looking south—towards Longyuan.
"If the Red Devil is waiting in hell, then I will bring hell to him."
Luyang Forest - Temporary Headquarters of Xiyang's Loyal Troops
The morning mist rolled slowly among the tall trees. The air was damp, and the smell of earth mixed with old blood that had not yet faded from the previous nights.
In the middle of the open plain, thousands of flags flew at half-mast—not a sign of victory, but an oath that was about to be tested.
There, Xiyang's three last forces had united.
The Heiyan troops with dark blue armor, the Fenghuang troops with fire-red armor, and Xu Heng's core forces—the remnants of the imperial guards who escaped the coup.
All formed a sea of steel in the middle of the forest.
At the front line stood four main figures: General Hwang, the Governor of Heiyan, the Governor of Fenghuang, and Xu Heng.
Not far from them, Young Master Jin stood holding his silver fan, his eyes staring at a large map on a stone table.
The sound of morning birds was almost swallowed by the marching of the troops awaiting orders.
Xu Heng stared at the map seriously. "We only have thirty-five thousand soldiers now. That number is not even one-third of the Han force heading south."
General Hwang nodded heavily. "True. According to the scouts, Hei Zhen has met General Han Mu's forces at Tianmen. That means... one hundred twenty thousand Han soldiers are heading this way."
The Governor of Fenghuang looked north, his face strained. "If they breach Luyang, Longyuan will be destroyed before we can even move."
All were silent for a moment—until a soft yet firm voice broke the air.
Young Master Jin stepped forward, the fan in his hand open, displaying a pattern of dragons and water. "We will not wait for them to come. We must divide our strength."
He pointed to two spots on the map. "First, Longyuan—the palace is held by Prince Zhuang and Princess Liang. They command the people's influence and control over the city garrison. If we allow it, they will welcome Han from within."
"And the second," he continued, looking north, "is Luyang. This narrow path is the only entry point to Longyuan from Tianmen. If Luyang falls, there will be no more barrier for the Han army."
Xu Heng looked at Jin Rui. "Then what is your proposal?"
Jin Rui slowly closed his fan. "Divide the forces. The first half, about fifteen thousand troops, will be led by Mr. Xu and me to infiltrate Longyuan through the northern route. Our mission is clear—to retake the palace and free the imperial family. Once the palace is clear, a flare signal will be ignited."
"And the other half?" asked the Governor of Heiyan.
"The remaining twenty thousand troops," Jin Rui replied without hesitation, "will remain in Luyang, forming layered defensive lines under the command of General Hwang, Father, and the Governor of Fenghuang. Your task is not to win... but to hold back the Han attack for as long as possible."
The atmosphere was quiet. Everyone realized what the word "hold" meant. It meant dying on their feet.
But General Hwang only chuckled shortly. "Young man, you speak like a war veteran. But I like your idea. It's better to die in Luyang with a sword in hand than to surrender under the Han banner."
Xu Heng nodded firmly. "Good. Then I will accompany you, Young Master Jin. We will free Longyuan—from within the palace, we will reignite the symbol of the Xiyang empire."
The Governor of Heiyan looked at his son for a long time, then finally smiled faintly. "So, the pen finally chose to become a sword."
Jin Rui bowed respectfully. "Pen and sword, Father—two sides of the same. Both write the future in different ways."
As the sun began to rise behind the trees, the troops were split into two.
The Governors of Fenghuang and Heiyan prepared defensive fortifications in the forest—erecting towers, traps, and secret spear lines among the giant roots of Luyang.
Meanwhile, Xu Heng and Jin Rui led the chosen troops south, following the old road to Longyuan, now guarded by Zhuang's forces and Han shadows.
Horses neighed, the sound of marching footsteps echoed like the whispers of a war yet to begin.
But one thing still made Xu Heng ask, "What about Lin Xuan? Didn't he come?"
General Hwang looked at the distant valley, his face stern. "He already came before us."
"Before us?"
"Yes," Hwang replied softly. "He went to Longyuan alone. And do you know what's surprising? He is indeed the Legendary Red Devil Masked Man."
Xu Heng was stunned, his eyes gazing at the southern sky covered in a faint red mist.
In his heart, he knew—if that man had moved, then blood would flow again in the streets of the capital.
The clouds suddenly darkened.
Under that gloomy sky, the war to determine Xiyang's future had just begun.
Luyang Forest Valley - The Battle Commences
A thick mist hung low among the ancient trees.
The air was silent—too silent for a day when two massive armies were only separated by five kilometers.
The smell of wet earth and iron merged, bringing the premonition of an unavoidable war.
At the northern end of the valley, the ground shook like a wave.
One hundred twenty thousand Han troops moved in a massive formation—a sea of black armor and red banners with the inverted star logo.
The sound of war trumpets shook the forest; the ranks of archers, cavalry, and spear lines moved in unison, creating a roar like a storm of steel.
At the front line stood two imposing figures:
General Hei Zhen, with black armor streaked with lightning, his Lei Ya spear sparking with electricity every time it touched the ground.
And beside him, General Han Mu, cold-faced with short white hair, wearing a long fur coat with the Han dragon emblem on his shoulder.
Han Mu looked at the Luyang mist in the distance. "Only five kilometers left to Longyuan."
His voice was heavy and flat. "But I don't see any guard forces."
Hei Zhen smiled coldly, the tip of his spear striking the ground until small lightning bolts hit the grass.
"They are hiding behind that mist. I can smell the Xiyang steel—stale and full of fear."
"And I can smell something else," Han Mu countered without turning. "An unquenched killing intent."
Hei Zhen laughed shortly. "Hmph. Still thinking about that Red Devil Masked Man?"
"Not just thinking," Han Mu replied, looking north. "I want to take his head and bring it to the Han Emperor as a sign of victory."
"In that case," Hei Zhen looked towards the misty valley, a cynical smile on his lips, "let's clear the path."
He raised his spear high. "Thunder Line! Advance!"
Luyang Valley - Xiyang Defense Line
On the south side of the valley, the 20,000 Xiyang troops were ready in a defensive formation.
Banners of blue, red, and gold fluttered in a line, signaling the combination of three forces: Heiyan, Fenghuang, and the imperial core forces.
The thunder of the enemy's footsteps echoed in the distance, yet no one flinched.
At the front line, General Hwang stood tall in his silver armor, cracked in several places—the remnants of the struggle in Tianmen a few days ago.
Beside him, the Governor of Heiyan held a long spear, and the Governor of Fenghuang prepared his spiritual arrows.
"Look at them," the Governor of Heiyan murmured softly, his voice heavy. "A sea of men... like an iron wall from the north."
General Hwang smiled faintly, grinning at death. "More means easier to kill. As long as they all come here."
He turned to the Governor of Fenghuang. "Archers ready?"
"In position. The Liuhuo Zhenfa line is ready to light the fire from three sides," he replied.
Hwang nodded, then looked towards the soldiers lined up behind.
"Listen carefully!" his voice echoed loudly. "We may be outnumbered, but not outmatched in honor! Behind us is Longyuan—our home, our families, and our emperor! If you die here, die as Xiyang's shield!"
The troops' cheers echoed loudly through the mist.
The stones under their feet vibrated with that spirit.
From the north side, the sound of Han trumpets echoed again—louder, longer.
The first wave of the Han army, ten thousand strong, charged down the hill.
Flaming arrows pierced the mist, the sky turned red.
"First defense! Fire!"
The Governor of Fenghuang's cry was met with the roar of spiritual arrows, igniting in golden blue.
A thousand arrows pierced the mist, hitting the Han forces descending the valley.
Explosion after explosion shook the ground.
But Hei Zhen only laughed in the distance, black lightning beginning to run along his spear.
He shouted loudly, his voice reverberating in the valley like a thunderclap:
"Lei Zhen Fa! - Black Thunder Strikes the Sky!"
Black lightning struck the ground, splitting the mist and igniting the valley like hell.
Dozens of Xiyang troops were thrown back by the deadly wave of electrical energy.
General Hwang parried a lightning flash with his sword, his teeth gritted.
"I see, Hei Zhen... still playing with fire like before."
He raised his sword and shouted, "Qinglong Fang Formation! Close the left gap! Don't let them in!"
The Heiyan troops moved swiftly in a water-dragon formation—a strategy created by Young Master Jin that allowed smaller forces to withstand great pressure through position rotation.
Their spears and shields shimmered like waves of water overlapping each other.
Han Mu in the distance narrowed his eyes, observing the defensive pattern.
"Hmph... a clear water formation. Where did that tactic come from?"
Hei Zhen laughed cynically. "Let's wait. I want to see what tricks their old dragon has up his sleeve."
He leaped forward, accelerating into the middle of the battlefield like black lightning.
Every step left a burnt mark on the ground.
And on the south side, General Hwang also advanced—his sword trembling with rising spiritual energy.
Two legends from two empires finally faced each other in the middle of the burning valley.
A moment of silence, then the world exploded with the sound of clashing metal and lightning.
From behind the forest, Xu Heng and Young Master Jin, along with their 15,000 troops who had just arrived at the end of the valley, watched from afar.
The mist shook with the collision of the two forces, and Jin Rui looked seriously at the battlefield.
"The war has begun," he said softly. "We must move now—before their blood is shed in vain."
Xu Heng nodded. "Direct the troops south. Our objective—Longyuan Palace."
Jin Rui slowly opened his fan, a gentle breeze blowing on his calm but sharp face.
"Good. Then let them write this chapter of the war with blood... and we will write the ending with light."
The troops moved silently, leaving the north side of the valley, while behind them, the sound of thunder and screams continued to echo—a sign that Luyang Valley had become the first hell holding back the Han wave.
Longyuan City - The Burning Night
The sky over Longyuan was blood-red.
Not from sunset, but from war.
Fire burned the towers, Xiyang and Han banners clashed on every street.
Screams, the clanging of swords, and the neighing of horses echoed as if the whole sky was screaming.
Amidst the flames, two figures stood on the highest rooftop of the old houses in the eastern district:
The Red Devil Masked Man, his robe fluttering in the ash storm, and beside him, Bai Suyin, with long white hair, her yellow eyes gleaming softly in the firelight.
From where they stood, the entire city was clearly visible—
Xu Heng and Young Master Jin's forces were breaching the northern gate, bringing the remaining 15,000 Xiyang troops.
Spiritual arrows from the Fenghuang formation struck the palace walls, creating glowing explosions.
Bai Suyin looked in that direction, her voice soft but tense.
"The northern gate is open. Xu Heng's forces managed to break through the outer guard lines. But the palace is still heavily guarded by Han shadows... and the Northern Star group."
The masked man did not answer.
His eyes—hidden behind the red oni mask—stared far towards the northern valley, where black mist swirled.
A faint sound of thunder was heard from there.
"I can feel the energy of Hei Zhen, that Han General," Lin Xuan said softly. "He has entered the battlefield. And Hwang is holding him off alone."
Suyin turned quickly. "Then what will you do, Master?"
The red mask turned toward her.
"Bai Suyin," he said, his voice deep and calm like night water. "Go to the palace. Find Xu Heng and his troops. Help them rescue Princess Ying Yue and the imperial family."
Bai Suyin was shocked. "Alone? But—"
"No time," Lin Xuan interrupted. "If the emperor falls, this war loses its meaning. I will hold the storm in the north."
Suyin stared at him for a long time. She knew, the "storm" he referred to was not the Han army—but the shadow hunters from hell itself.
With a faint nod, she stepped back, then her body transformed into a silver mist and shot towards the palace like a gentle wind.
Now, only the masked man remained on the rooftop, battered by the rain of ash and fire.
He looked at the northern valley once more.
He bent his knees, and in an instant his shadow vanished—only the sound of an air explosion remained where he stood.
The sound of a war horn shook the entire city.
Xu Heng's troops breached the half-destroyed stone gate, met by a rain of arrows from Zhuang's forces.
"Shield formation!" Xu Heng shouted, drawing his silver sword.
A hundred large shields were raised simultaneously, parrying the rain of arrows that fell like a steel storm.
On the other side, Young Master Jin stood on his white horse Yunxi, his spiritual fan open.
He wrote several lines in the air—blue light formed a water-shaped energy formation flowing around the troops.
"Qingliu Zhenfa - Clear Water Current Formation!"
The spiritual energy formed a transparent wall that blocked projectiles, then reflected them back at the Han forces on the tower.
Explosion after explosion shook the sky, and amidst it, Jin Rui looked at the palace from a distance.
"Xu Heng! Once your troops breach the second line, head straight for the central courtyard! I and three Heiyan units will storm the west pavilion!"
"Understood!" Xu Heng leaped from his horse, ran across the cracked wall, and cut down two Han soldiers blocking his way.
Blue spiritual light encircled his steps; every slash emanated the aura of the still-living Xiyang empire.
The troops continued to press forward, breaking through the palace guard lines.
From the air, purple spiritual arrows shot fast—Bai Suyin had arrived.
She landed softly beside Xu Heng, her white hair shimmering under the firelight.
"The Red Devil Masked Man sent me to help you," she said briefly.
Xu Heng smiled faintly. "Good. Then let's free the palace together."
North Side of Longyuan - The Meeting of Shadows
Meanwhile, on the north side of the city, the air suddenly froze.
From the black mist descending from the sky, three silhouettes emerged.
Their steps were silent, but their aura shook the surrounding rooftops.
Mo Xinghai, with his cold blue eyes and the Yanyuedao on his back.
Han Mei, with copper-red hair and grayish-blue eyes.
Shen Wuhen, with a wine jug on his hip and the Hei Feng sword in his hand.
They stopped in front of the ruins of a tower, and at the end of that street, stood a figure in a red-black robe and the red oni mask.
Mo Xinghai smiled faintly. "So the true legend of Tianmen, or the one known as the Red Devil Masked Man, is still alive. We finally meet. It seems you are indeed the same person as the First Shadow of the Xiyang empire."
Lin Xuan stood still, only the wind answered.
Under his mask, his eyes narrowed slightly. "Three elite Han shadows coming down for one person? I am honored."
Shen Wuhen raised his sword, a bluish glow dancing on the blade.
"No need for pleasantries. You have slaughtered thousands of Han troops at Tianmen. Now it's time to pay."
Han Mei advanced half a step, her voice cold. "Red Devil Shadow... the killer of my father in front of Tianmen Fortress. Tonight, I will avenge his blood."
Lin Xuan looked at them one by one, then lowered his sword to his side.
"I did not come for revenge or to play war. I came to stop this hell. But if you insist..."
The shadow under his feet lengthened.
The air trembled.
"...then I will drown you in it."
A spiritual wind explosion occurred as the four figures vanished from sight—only blue, red, and black light clashed in the air.
Mo Xinghai and Lin Xuan's bodies collided rapidly; the Yanyuedao's slash met Lin Xuan's sword blade, creating a wave of energy that shattered the rooftops beneath them.
Han Mei spun, her steps like the winter wind, the black sword Leng Yue slashing with near-invisible speed.
Lin Xuan parried it, but Shen Wuhen had launched from the other side, his sword striking like a shadow of water.
Three directions. Three attacks.
Lin Xuan leaped into the air, swinging his sword in a full circle.
From his blade emerged a wave of deep red energy that swept the surroundings—slashing the air, warding off the three opponents simultaneously.
A massive explosion destroyed the houses around them, sending fire and dust flying into the sky.
But all three stood again. None were severely wounded.
Mo Xinghai looked at Lin Xuan coldly. "So this is the strength of the Tianmen legend."
Lin Xuan stared back. "And this... is the result of your years of training under Han's darkness?"
Both prepared again, but suddenly, Lin Xuan stopped.
He stared far north. An aura of lightning and blood rumbled like a storm.
"No," he muttered softly. "Hwang is in danger."
Instantly, Lin Xuan leaped into the air, his body spinning then disappearing north, leaving a red storm behind him.
Han Mei was about to chase, but Mo Xinghai raised a hand to stop her.
"Let him. Our battle is not over."
He stared in the same direction with a cold gaze. "Let him see what loss means—then we will end everything."
Luyang Valley - The Main Battlefield
Black lightning struck the sky, engulfing the Xiyang defensive fortress.
General Hwang staggered amidst the rain of blood, his sword full of cracks, but his eyes were still burning.
Hei Zhen across from him laughed loudly, his body surrounded by a thick lightning aura.
"Still alive, Hwang? Excellent! But for how long?"
"Long enough," Hwang retorted, "to cut off your spear."
The two collided—lightning and light met, creating an earth-shattering explosion.
But just as Hei Zhen was about to thrust his spear into Hwang's heart, a red shadow suddenly slashed down from the sky, separating the two.
A spiritual explosion shook the valley, throwing the surrounding troops backward.
The smoke thinned... and from the center emerged a figure in a red-black robe and the red oni mask.
All remaining Xiyang troops stared at him in astonishment.
A soft whisper flowed among them—"The Red Devil... He returned..."
Lin Xuan stood between Hwang and Hei Zhen.
His mask stared directly at the Han General whose body was covered in black lightning.
"Five years ago," Lin Xuan said coldly, "you attacked a ruined fortress and ended with defeat."
Hei Zhen grinned. "Hmph... Red Devil Masked Man! You finally appear before me. And now, I will crush you—and take your head."
The sky trembled. But before the fight could ensue, Hwang held back the Red Devil masked man.
"This is a battle between us, I can still fight him,"
Lin Xuan nodded. "Then settle your score, General. I will hold the line."
He bowed slightly, a brief sign of respect—something the First Shadow never did for anyone.
Hwang smiled faintly. "You... still have honor, even after becoming a legend of hell."
Hei Zhen raised his spear high. "Honor? Today only one will live to bear it."
The two collided.
Lightning and spiritual light clashed.
A massive explosion shook the sky, sending stones flying in the valley.
And behind them—Lin Xuan turned.
His eyes stared at the thousands of Han troops continuously flowing from the north, like an endless wave.
He took a long breath.
The sky changed color.
"In that case... it's time for the shadow to swallow the darkness again."
He stepped forward—and the ground under his feet cracked.
Black shadows quickly spread like roots of lightning, forming a large circle surrounding the valley.
The Han troops began to retreat in fear.
They whispered, "The red mask... it's him... the devil of Tianmen...!"
The sound of Lin Xuan's steps echoed softly, but every step made the air tremble.
He lowered his sword—Yanlong, its tip touching the blood-soaked ground.
"Rise," he whispered.
The voice was not loud, but it echoed throughout the valley.
The shadows on the ground moved.
Black mist rose from the earth, forming a giant vortex that spun above their heads.
From that vortex, a low sound emerged—like the rumble of a dragon that had slept too long.
Then the earth cracked—and a giant black dragon emerged from underground, its body formed from spiritual mist and the blood of thousands of fallen souls.
Its eyes were burning red, its scales glistening dark like wet obsidian.
It circled the sky, shaking the air, and the entire Han army stopped moving.
"Shadow Ultimate Technique - Longhun Shura (Hell Soul Dragon)."
Lin Xuan raised his hand, and the dragon roared—a sound that made the sky tremble.
One flick of its tail, hundreds of Han soldiers were thrown, their bodies shattered before they could scream.
One breath, black mist swept the valley, swallowing humans, horses, and iron in a dense black storm.
In seconds, the ground became a sea of blood.
Red light shone from every sword blade left on the ground.
The wind turned into a storm, sweeping away the entire Han line like sand swept by a god.
Above the West Tower - The Witnessing Shadows
From the top of a half-destroyed stone tower in Longyuan, three figures watched the spectacle.
Mo Xinghai, Han Mei, and Shen Wuhen stood silently.
The lightning in the valley blinded the eyes, but between every flash—they saw it.
The black dragon, circling in the sky, its body coiled like a hellish vortex.
And at its center, a red-masked figure, standing still amidst the storm, surrounded by blood and fire.
Han Mei paled. Her lips trembled, her hand on her sword hilt shaking violently.
"That's... not human...," she whispered. "He... killed ten thousand Han troops in one attack..."
Shen Wuhen gulped his wine, but his hand also trembled. "Hah... I knew the rumor wasn't a boast. The legend of Tianmen is still breathing after all."
Mo Xinghai remained silent. His eyes never left the black dragon circling in the sky.
The wind blew his hair, but his body remained upright like a stone.
He finally spoke, his voice quiet yet deep.
"So... this is the true form of the First Shadow's power for the Xiyang empire."
Han Mei turned to him with eyes full of hatred. "You're not going to stop him?"
Mo Xinghai slowly shook his head. "Even if I go down now, the result won't be different. He is no longer a man—he is the will of war itself."
The black dragon roared again, diving from the sky and striking the ground on the right side of the valley.
The shockwave destroyed the small Han fortifications, sending thousands of bodies flying into the air.
Fire and blood merged, forming an endless red ocean.
Han Mei bowed her head, her tears falling, mixing with the dust.
"Is this how... my father died in Tianmen?"
Mo Xinghai did not answer.
He only looked at Lin Xuan standing in the middle of the battlefield, his silhouette illuminated by fire.
—faint, yet dangerous.
"If that is the power he wields," Mo Xinghai said, "then this war has just changed. Han will lose all their troops in the valley, but I know... he will also lose himself bit by bit."
Shen Wuhen looked at him with a sharp gaze. "You speak as if you know him."
"I know something similar to him," Mo Xinghai replied softly. "His strength should have been completely depleted."
While the black dragon swept the valley, Lin Xuan stood in the center of his spiritual vortex.
The red light from his eyes pierced the mask.
Every movement of his hand created a storm—not because of power, but because of an unquenchable will.
Thousands of Han troops were gone from the battlefield.
The ground around them turned into a chasm, a river of blood flowing among the burnt stones.
At the far end, Hei Zhen was still fighting fiercely with Hwang.
But even he paused for a moment, looking at the black dragon flying above the sky, screaming like the spirits of thousands of dead soldiers.
"Red Devil Masked Man..." Hei Zhen whispered softly. "Are you human... or the curse itself?"
Lin Xuan did not answer.
He slowly lowered his hand, and the black dragon stopped spinning.
In its final roar, the creature pierced the clouds, exploding into thousands of fragments of red light that fell like a rain of blood onto Luyang Valley.
Silence.
Only the remaining wind rustled, carrying ash and the sound of vanishing spirits.
General Hwang stared at him with heavy breaths, his sword still raised.
"Lin Xuan... what will you do next?"
Lin Xuan looked east—towards Longyuan City, which was still burning.
"What I must do," he answered softly. "End everything."
From a distance, Mo Xinghai still watched him, while Han Mei gripped her sword tightly.
"I will have my revenge," Han Mei muttered softly, her eyes looking at the red gleam in the sky.
"But not today."
Mo Xinghai lowered his gaze, then turned around.
"Be ready. When that dragon vanishes, the time for the next war begins—the war between shadow and shadow."
And under the sky that had turned black again, the Red Devil Masked Man stood alone in the middle of the valley.
The wind carried the ash of thousands of burned corpses,
and for the first time—the world remembered who the legend they feared truly was.