Demon Continent

The wall was instantly smashed into a deep crater, and rubble rained down.

He struggled to climb back up, instinctively looking down at his waist. The wound there was gruesome and terrifying.

Black blood welled out continuously, and demonic energy surged frantically toward the wound, desperately trying to repair it.

But the skin around the wound began to blacken and rot. No matter how much demonic energy surged, it could not stop the necrosis from spreading.

He slowly raised his head, looking at Bai Xuan as he approached step by step.

For the first time, the madness and arrogance faded from his eyes, replaced by a deep, bone-chilling fear.

“What... what kind of combat skill is that? Why can it break my defense?” his voice trembled.

Bai Xuan did not answer. He simply gripped his staff and walked toward him, step by step.

Ronid wanted to flee, but he found himself unable to move even half a step.

A demon's pride, his obsession with strength, and his greed for that girl pinned him to the spot like invisible shackles.

Even when gripped by fear, he was unwilling to bow his head, unwilling to run away.

“I don't believe it! I don't believe it! There's no way I can lose!”

He let out a heart-wrenching roar, supporting himself with his hands on the ground as he frantically detonated all the remaining demonic energy in his body without reservation.

Black flames erupted from his body, scorching the ground and instantly burning a pitch-black crater into the stone.

Enveloped in flames, he lunged toward Bai Xuan like a burning black meteor, carrying a desperate resolve to drag his opponent down with him.

Bai Xuan stood firm, the golden light around his body surging violently as the brilliant glow at the tip of his staff illuminated the entire dungeon.

...

The Demon Continent.

The sky here was eternally dark purple, the clouds hanging low, occasionally splitting open.

The churning dark red below would leak out, slicing a bizarre trail of light across the gloomy sky.

A black castle stood perched on the edge of a cliff, its stone walls covered in crawling dark-gold patterns.

These patterns resembled living blood vessels and roots, burrowing deep into the texture of the stone as they slowly writhed.

Deep within the castle, the light was dim. Dark-red crystals embedded in the walls emitted a strange glow, bathing everything in the hall in a bloody hue.

The air was thick with a scent—the sweet fragrance of lilies mixed with the stench of decaying flesh. It was pungent and dizzying, lingering persistently at the tip of the nose.

In the corners, black shadows writhed slowly like living creatures, occasionally stretching out thin tentacles before quickly snapping them back.

Alexia reclined on a long couch, one arm draped casually over the armrest.

Her other hand held a goblet of dark-red liquid.

This was a fermented wine produced only in the depths of the Demon Continent. It was thick in texture, entering the mouth with a sweet, metallic taste.

She stood two heads taller than an ordinary human, yet her figure remained perfectly proportioned and slender.

She wore an extremely thin black robe with a low neckline, revealing her beautifully defined collarbones and shoulders.

Her bare feet rested on the cold stone floor, occasionally twitching slightly.

Her deep-red hair cascaded down to her waist, the tips shimmering faintly in the dim light.

She raised a hand to lazily brush aside the strands of hair falling over her chest, her eyes half-closed.

Kneeling across from her was a demon.

Twisted ram horns jutted from its head, and its dark-red skin was covered in scales and hideous scars.

Tiny sparks spat from the corners of its mouth as it spoke. Bowing its head humbly, it was carefully trying to strike a deal with Alexia.

It concerned the ownership of a small territory, as well as the allocation of several low-grade souls.

Alexia listened half-heartedly, sipping the wine from her goblet from time to time.

The dark-red liquid stained her lips, and she licked it away with the tip of her tongue. The gesture carried a hint of allure, yet her gaze never once focused on the demon.

In truth, she wasn't listening at all.

Such a trivial transaction wasn't even worth her lifting a finger.

She was merely patiently waiting for it to finish so she could casually dismiss it.

Just then, she suddenly sensed an anomaly at the other end of a certain contract.

The human who had been beguiled by her clone was frantically demanding her power.

Like a seed desperate to break through the soil.

Nourished by power, it sprouted and expanded rapidly. The growth of that power was like a flower suddenly bursting into bloom.

Alexia's fingertips paused slightly, causing the wine in her goblet to ripple.

But she only spared it a casual glance, not giving it another thought.

Such occurrences were far too common for her. Countless “seeds” like this took root and sprouted in the human world.

Some bore fruit, while others withered and died. None were worth her distraction.

She returned her attention to the demon's droning, even raising her hand to take another sip of wine.

However, the speed at which that power expanded far exceeded any prior instance.

That human seemed to have gone mad, recklessly absorbing her power—it was almost akin to plundering.

This time, Alexia finally set down her goblet and sat up slightly.

For the first time, her gaze actually landed on the demon opposite her.

Yet the demon continued to babble, completely oblivious to her change in demeanor, and even went on and on about the details of the transaction.

Alexia's brow furrowed slightly, a trace of impatience flashing through her eyes.

In the next second, the fluctuation on the other end of the contract suddenly snapped.

It did not slowly fade away; instead, it was as if it had been cleanly severed by a sharp blade, leaving no trace behind.

She immediately retraced the lingering path of the contract, intending to reclaim the dispersing power.

Even if the “seed” died, she could usually reclaim a portion of the dispersing power. It was merely a bit troublesome.

But this time, she sensed absolutely nothing.

The power that should have dispersed into the air seemed to have been swallowed whole by something, leaving not a single trace behind.

Alexia sat completely upright, her lazy demeanor vanishing instantly, replaced by an almost imperceptible chill.

The demon opposite her finally noticed her shift in mood. It quickly stopped talking and tentatively looked up to ask,

“My Lady, you—”

Alexia did not speak. She simply raised her hand slowly, and before the demon could finish, she lightly raised her palm.

The demon could not even let out a scream. Its eyes widened in shock, and its mouth formed a perfect circle.

Its body began to turn into black powder from the edges, drifting down like ashes scattered by the wind.

The powder fell to the ground, quickly merging into the shadows in the corner and vanishing without a trace.

The goblet beside her was knocked over, and the dark-red liquid flowed slowly, seeping into the cracks of the marble floor along its patterns without leaving a single trace.

Alexia withdrew her hand and closed her eyes, focusing all her concentration to trace the faint, lingering path of the contract once more.

This time, she only caught a vague sense of a general direction.

Somewhere in a corner of the human world—distant and blurry, yet carrying an inexplicable pull.

She opened her eyes, her pupils reflecting the slowly writhing dark-gold patterns on the palace ceiling.

A playful curve slowly formed at the corner of her mouth.

“Interesting.”