Chapter 41: The Bloody Struggle (Fifth Update)

“If you offend me, I shall turn you all into beastmen, condemned to serve as my wretched slaves for all eternity. That is only fair!” The Demon Emperor extended his hand, and boundless demonic energy enveloped the air, swiftly condensing into a gigantic, all-encompassing spectral claw.

Thunder rumbled as the demon hand descended; massive boulders exploded, and towering ancient trees shattered inch by inch. This was utter annihilation, a calamity beyond compare.

“No, please!” came the wails of the crowd, their bodies twisting, their eyes bulging in terror. They could feel it clearly—a dreadful power was wrenching their souls from within.

“Demon Emperor, you died in ages past; your fate is sealed, and you ought to lie still as a corpse!” Suddenly, a clear, fierce cry rang out.

Nalan Ruoshui’s golden sword burst into flame, and her aura surged severalfold. She was burning her very life force—sacrificing her years to unleash a desperate surge of strength.

A sharp hiss escaped from Zuo Xiangyu. “This Nalan Ruoshui—she’s truly desperate.”

“Zuo Xiangyu, as the heir of the Thousand Dragon Path, if you simply submit to slaughter now, you will be the laughingstock of the world!” Nalan Ruoshui shouted, her golden sword blazing like a miniature sun.

“Very well! Now’s the time to risk it all!” Zuo Xiangyu’s own life force ignited with a roar, the flames surging around him.

Better to gamble on one last chance for survival—otherwise, they would be doomed to spend eternity as beastmen, abject slaves at the Demon Emperor’s side.

With a burst of flame, Elder Mu, the retainer of Bing Miaoguo, also set his life force alight.

“Attack!” the three mighty warriors cried in unison, launching themselves at the Demon Emperor.

“How amusing! Do ants hope to shake a great tree?” The Demon Emperor sneered, not moving an inch. With a flick of his three thousand blood-red strands of hair, he lashed out.

A series of thunderous crashes followed as the blood-red hair struck Nalan Ruoshui, Zuo Xiangyu, and Elder Mu. The power contained within those locks felt like the weight of ten thousand mountains, nearly crushing their bodies to dust.

The three cried out in agony, sent flying across the field. Blood gushed from their mouths, their faces pale as death.

Despair overtook the rest; they trembled uncontrollably, unable to speak from fear. Even with their life force ablaze, Nalan Ruoshui, Zuo Xiangyu, and Elder Mu could barely endure a single blow from the Demon Emperor’s blood-red hair.

The Ancient Demon Emperor—he was simply too terrifying. They had no hope of resistance.

“Gold-armored warriors, forward! Destroy the Demon Emperor!” Bing Miaoguo had lost her mind; her face was twisted, her expression feral as she shrieked.

She was the Grand Princess of the Southern Domain’s provincial capital, born of noble blood—she would never allow herself to become a lowly handmaid to the Demon Emperor!

“Your Highness!” the gold-armored warriors exclaimed, terror-stricken. Was she sending them to their deaths?

“When I tell you to attack, you attack!” With a mad snarl, Bing Miaoguo seized one warrior by the throat and, with a crack, snapped his neck.

“All of you, attack now!” she bellowed, tossing the corpse aside.

“Destroy the Demon Emperor!” “Kill!” the gold-armored warriors, petrified, could only charge forward in desperation.

“Pathetic,” the Demon Emperor scoffed.

With a sweep of his arm, demonic energy surged forth like a tidal wave, thick with the stench of death, pouring into the bodies of the gold-armored warriors. Instantly, the sounds of battle ceased. The warriors froze where they stood, their eyes vacant, as if stripped of their souls.

With a flick of his finger, the Demon Emperor sent a shockwave through them—one after another, their bodies exploded into clouds of blood, their golden armor reduced to dust.

The crowd recoiled in horror. Dozens of gold-armored warriors, wiped out in the blink of an eye—was this a nightmare?

This was the Demon Emperor’s power—supreme, unmatched. All living things were but ants before him.

With a thud, Bing Miaoguo collapsed to the ground, paralyzed by terror.

“Since you are so obstinate, very well. You can feed the beasts,” the Demon Emperor said coldly.

He had barely finished speaking when the entire mountain range began to tremble.

Howls and shrieks echoed from every direction as the tens of thousands of demon beasts in the forests went mad with frenzy, surging toward the heart of the mountains. The great beast tide had erupted—the land shook as though the heavens and earth were tearing apart.

“No, please!” the crowd cried, hopeless.

The Demon Emperor was nothing short of monstrous, planning to feed them to the beasts. These were the strongest from every great power—reduced to fodder for monsters. Regret consumed them; had they known the Demon Emperor would return, nothing could have lured them here.

In that moment, a melodious sound rang out—notes of a zither, drifting through the air.

The Zither Immortal!

The despairing crowd suddenly remembered Huangfu Meng, and all eyes turned to her.

She sat cross-legged on the ground, an ancient zither resting across her knees, fingers dancing gracefully upon the strings. The music flowed like water, and the frenzied beasts that had reached the clearing instantly calmed at the sound.

“What a lovely melody,” the Demon Emperor remarked, surprised as he looked at Huangfu Meng. “Within your music, I sense the resonance of the Way itself—a truly remarkable mastery. Unfortunately, you have disrupted my plans. Thus, you must die. But rest assured, as the Zither Immortal, your death will be gentle.”

He extended his hand, and his arm stretched impossibly long, reaching toward Huangfu Meng.

She could feel the dreadful force bearing down on her, crushing the air from her lungs. Despair surged within; her body felt as if it would be pulverized by the demonic might.

“Demon Emperor! Young Master Chen has already foreseen everything. For such an evil being as you to still resist now is futile!” A voice rang out, filled with righteous fury.

“Oh? And who is this Young Master Chen?” The Demon Emperor paused, turning to the speaker.

All eyes followed. It was Bing Muer, standing with a scroll clutched tightly in her hands.

A scroll? What could a mere painting possibly do?

The crowd was baffled.

“You have no right to know who Young Master Chen is. Prepare to meet your end!” Bing Muer shouted, her arm flicking outward.

With a rustle, the scroll unfurled in midair, growing larger and larger until it blotted out the sky.

Bing Muer herself was curious to see what Young Master Chen had given her. Raising her eyes, she gazed at the painting—only to be stunned.

It was a vast, boundless ocean. Knowing her tragic past, Young Master Chen had clearly gifted her this painting to help her broaden her heart and let go of the past—so that one day, she might achieve greatness.