Within the Qin Clan's inner domain, ancient formations hummed softly as they adjusted themselves without command. Protective arrays that had slumbered for centuries stirred, spiritual veins brightening as if responding to an unspoken threat.
Yuan Ai stood at the edge of the observation terrace, golden hair tied loosely behind her back, her mature features tense beneath forced calm. The wind brushed against her robes, yet she felt no warmth—only a creeping chill that had nothing to do with weather.
"So it truly happened…" she murmured as she looked at the sky
Behind her, Feng Rou hesitated before stepping closer. She had tried to keep her composure, tried to remind herself that she was strong, independent, no longer the woman she once was—but the pressure in the air told her otherwise.
This was not something personal strength could ignore.
"A Monarch Realm aura," Feng Rou said quietly. "Unrefined… violent… but undeniably complete."
Yuan Ai clenched her fingers.
The news of the Monarch and Aura that is erupting has spread like a wildfire.
A Monarch.
That word alone carried the weight of annihilated clans, reshaped continents, and eras rewritten in blood. Even Spirit-Shattering experts were little more than ants before such beings.
Her thoughts drifted—unbidden—to a certain man.
Qin Su.
At this very moment, he was likely lying somewhere comfortable, hands behind his head, 1eyes half-closed as if the heavens themselves were no more than background noise.
The thought made her chest tighten—not with fear for him, but with fear for everyone else.
"Do you think…" Feng Rou hesitated, then continued softly, "that this Monarch will come for us?"
Yuan Ai did not answer immediately.
Instead, she looked toward the distant mountains where the Qin Clan's ancestral hall stood, where the elders had already convened in emergency council.
"He won't ignore us," she said at last. "Not after the Abyssal Bone Marsh and also that mysterious indivudal....his connection with little Mei.."
Feng Rou swallowed.
While the two were discussing.
News spread like wildfire fed by terror.
A Monarch had ascended.
Not from a righteous sect. Not from an ancient imperial lineage. But from a calamity—the Blood Demon.
In mountain strongholds, elders shattered jade tables with trembling hands. In hidden realms, reclusive experts opened eyes long sealed by meditation. In minor sects, disciples cried openly, realizing how fragile their lives truly were.
The balance—maintained through fragile deterrence—had broken.
Worse still…
The Monarch's aura had not stabilized.
It expanded.
Slowly. Deliberately. Like a predator stretching after a long sleep.
The Hall of Converging Heavens had not been opened in over thousand year.
Today, its gates stood wide.
Representatives of the great sects, imperial clans, wandering factions, and hidden families filled the vast chamber. Spiritual lanterns burned with anxious light, illuminating faces etched with dread, fury, and disbelief.
At the center floated a massive circular platform, carved with laws older than recorded history.
A Spirit-Shattering elder from the Azure Sky Sect slammed his staff against the ground.
"This is madness! A Monarch born from blood and devouring inheritance—if we hesitate, we will be erased!"
A matriarch from the Moonshadow Clan retorted sharply, "And if we rush blindly, we die faster. Do you propose marching Spirit-Shattering cultivators against a Monarch?"
Murmurs rippled throughout the hall
In the remains of the Abyssal
So afraid…" he chuckled, voice layered with something no longer human. "I can taste it."
His newly born Monarch sense stretched outward, brushing against sect barriers, clan formations, hidden realms.
Each one recoiled.
"Gather," he murmured. "Scheme. Pray."
A grin split his face.
"It makes no difference."
"You all will fall! Hahahaha!