"Kill every human they see."
The cave erupted as beasts roared in savage frenzy.
Áo Shuāng rose to his feet.
The moment he stood, the beasts bowed instinctively, pressing themselves lower to the frozen stone. Even the wounded Frostwyrm forced itself down, movements stiff with pain. The crystalline horn on Ao Ming's temple caught the dim light and flashed once.
Then he disappeared.
One instant, he was there. The next, he was gone, leaving no ripple of power behind.
A few breaths later, Ao Ming appeared in the open air several meters from Northwatch Stronghold.
Cold wind struck him head-on. Snow spiralled around his body, biting and sharp. In the distance, the stronghold's massive walls loomed, runes faintly glowing along the battlements like veins beneath frozen skin.
He took a step forward.
And stopped.
A figure appeared.
A man stood calmly before him, a flask resting in his hand. His hair was unkempt, his posture loose, his expression hovering between laziness and quiet amusement. The air around him was unnaturally still. Space itself felt restrained, as though it would not move without his permission.
Áo Shuāng exhaled through his nose, irritation flickering across his face, though there was no real surprise.
"I figured you mad man would be here," he said, his voice tight. "You humans always show up where you are not wanted."
The man lifted the flask and took a slow, unhurried sip.
Then he spoke. His voice was calm, his eyes indifferent.
"Twenty quotas."
Áo Shuāng's expression twitched.
For a brief moment, it looked as if he might laugh. Then the irritation hardened into fury. His aura surged outward, vast and oppressive, like a dragon stirring from deep slumber. Even the sky above rippled faintly under the pressure.
"Do you want to fight?" Áo Shuāng roared.
The man did not move nor raise his voice.
He lowered the flask and regarded Ao Ming with a gaze that made the question itself seem pointless.
"What do you think?"
The wind howled between them.
Snow spiralled faster, drawn into the pressure building in the air, as the space between the two figures grew heavy with unspoken intent.
Áo Shuāng moved first.
With a single step forward, driven by restrained fury and wounded pride, he advanced. The moment his foot crossed that invisible boundary, the world around him changed completely.
The snow vanished.
The cold disappeared.
The sky folded inward like a closing lid.
In its place stretched a boundless, colourless expanse, neither darkness nor light, a vast, muted space where distance held no meaning and direction had no definition. The ground beneath Áo Shuāng's feet was solid, yet felt unreal, like stepping on compressed will rather than earth.
He froze.
The man remained where he was.
Still standing with the same relaxed posture, flask in hand, gaze steady and indifferent, as if nothing had changed. Yet the pressure in this space was entirely different. It did not descend like brute force but pressed from all sides at once, subtle and suffocating, seeping into thought, blood, and soul.
Áo Shuāng's fury stalled.
This was no ordinary domain.
This was not even the kind most Soul Sovereigns possessed.
It was refined. Absolute. Complete.
He looked around once, jaw tightening, then forced his gaze back to the man, anger barely masking the unease creeping into his chest as he stepped back.
"Now you've made my hand itch." The man tilted his head slightly as he spoke.
Áo Shuāng paused, then straightened, forcing his spine rigid. Dragon blood surged through him, but courage felt thin and brittle. His aura flared outward, frost and draconic pressure erupting around him, scales briefly manifesting along his arms and neck.
"Do you think I'm scared?" he demanded, pushing his power outward, testing the resistance of the domain.
The answer came instantly.
The man moved.
There was no warning, no surge of energy, no sign.
One moment, he was standing several steps away.
Next, his fist was descending.
Áo Shuāng barely raised his arm before the blow landed. The impact was devastating, not explosive, but crushing, as if a mountain had fallen precisely where he stood. The force drove him into the ground, cracking the surface in a spiderweb that rippled endlessly outward.
Before he could recover, the second strike landed.
Then the third.
Then the fourth.
The man did not use techniques, manifest cosmic souls, or shout moves. Each strike was simple, precise, and merciless, landing exactly where Áo Shuāng was weakest, tearing through aura and striking him directly.
Áo Shuāng retaliated.
He roared, frost and dragon qi erupting as he lashed out with clawed hands, tail sweeping, breath freezing the domain. Every ounce of his draconic power surged through him.
But none of it mattered.
The man moved through it all effortlessly.
Frozen breath shattered against an invisible barrier. Claws were deflected with casual flicks of the wrist. Every counterstrike landed with humiliating precision, halting momentum, cracking ribs, and numbing limbs.
Time lost all meaning.
Áo Shuāng could not tell how long it lasted—only that the assault never ceased. Every attempt to rise was met with crushing force. Every effort to assert dominance was answered with undeniable, overwhelming superiority.
First... his pride fractured, then his confidence and lastly, his certainty crumbled.
By the time the man finally stopped, Áo Shuāng was on his knees. Blood ran freely from his mouth. His scales were cracked and dulled. His breathing came in ragged, uneven gasps. The domain pressed down on him without mercy, forcing him to remain bowed.
The man looked at him quietly for a moment before speaking.
"You don't have the right to negotiate with me."
His voice was calm, almost bored.
"If Áo Cāng were here," he continued, "it would be different."
He paused, then added evenly, "But you? Not enough."
Áo Shuāng's eyes widened in pain and disbelief.
Áo Cāng.
The name struck harder than any blow. It belonged to their ancestor, the ancient dragon who had nearly reached the Soul Dao Realm, a being whose presence still echoed among beastkind and whose existence had shaped generations. Only the highest echelons knew the name, and even fewer dared speak it aloud.
Shock coursed through Áo Shuāng's battered mind. He lifted his head slowly, staring at the man with growing horror.
"…Have you entered that realm too?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
The man met his gaze steadily.