Ten years passed in the blink of an eye.
The map of the Spirit Realm had been completely rewritten. Beneath the crimson-violet sky, the flames of war and demonic fire had replaced the peace of old. The once-thriving scene of countless sects and mortals living side by side was gone, replaced by towering black demonic temples flying the Holy Dynasty's banner—blood-red, embroidered with nine stars orbiting a single sword.
The Holy Dynasty.
These two words hung like heavy shackles upon the hearts of the Spirit Realm's billions of living souls.
In ten years, the iron hooves of Demon Venerable Qin Ao—now honored as the "Holy Emperor"—had trampled across most of the Spirit Realm's territory. Marching from the Abyss of Ten Thousand Demons, the Holy Dynasty's army surged like a relentless flood, crushing one resistant sect and city after another with devastating ease.
The strong devour the weak; the fit survive. This was the only law the Holy Dynasty upheld.
And the ten sharpest blades of the Holy Dynasty were those children designated as the "Ten Holy Sons" a decade ago. Now, they had grown into peerless prodigies renowned across the Spirit Realm, each with heaven-defying cultivation and ruthless methods, suppressing every genius of their generation into insignificance.
——
East Domain, ruins of the Biyun Immortal Sect.
This once-flourishing first-rate immortal sect with tens of thousands of disciples had been reduced to scorched earth. Among the shattered walls and ruins, the faint outlines of former pavilions and towers could still be seen, but far more prevalent were dried bloodstains and scattered fragments of broken artifacts.
High in the sky, a figure clad in heavy black armor hovered in the air, cold light radiating from beneath his visor. In his hand, he held a severed head with white hair and beard—it belonged to the Sect Master of the Biyun Immortal Sect.
"The Biyun Immortal Sect resisted to the bitter end. Their crime warrants extermination." The icy voice rang out like clashing cold iron. "From this day forward, the entire East Domain belongs to the Holy Dynasty. Submit and prosper, resist and perish!"
Below, countless former disciples of the Biyun Immortal Sect knelt prostrate, trembling with fear. A few stubborn souls glared in defiance, but were quickly hacked to death by the surrounding black-armored warriors.
"It's the Seventh Holy Son, Zhan Wuji!" someone whispered in horror. "I heard he broke through to the Long Life Realm just three months ago, and now he's single-handedly razed the Biyun Immortal Sect!"
"Every one of the Ten Holy Sons is a monster… and it's only been ten years!"
"The Holy Dynasty's momentum is unstoppable. The Spirit Realm… is truly changing."
Zhan Wuji, born a "calamity star" on the shores of the Eastern Sea ten years ago, was named the Seventh Holy Son by Qin Ao. He cultivated the Dao of Slaughter and War—born for battle, growing stronger with every fight. Over ten years of campaigning across the realm for the Holy Dynasty, he had amassed countless military exploits and innumerable dead at his hands.
He swept his cold gaze across the kneeling masses below as if looking at ants. "Clean the battlefield. Those who submit will be conscripted into the Holy Dynasty's army. Those who resist… kill without mercy!"
——
West Domain, Heavenly Sword City.
This mighty city, renowned for its sword cultivators, was now shrouded in an eerie silence.
The central plaza was packed with people kneeling in darkness. Upon the elevated platform, a youth in a pristine white sword robe stood with his hands behind his back. His features were so striking they bordered on the uncanny, and a faint, elusive smile played upon his lips.
He looked no older than fifteen or sixteen, yet he radiated a sword intent that made hearts tremble. Even more terrifying, hundreds of flying swords of various designs hovered behind him—each emanating a powerful aura, yet orbiting him as gently as docile sheep.
"Fine swords, but alas, they followed the wrong masters." The youth spoke softly, his voice gentle, yet it chilled the blood of every sword cultivator below.
He was the Tenth Holy Son, Jian Wuming. Born in the Burial Sword Valley of the West Domain, he possessed an innately luminous sword heart and could command ten thousand blades. Ten years ago, his family deemed him ill-omened and abandoned him in a mountain valley, only for a passing Holy Dynasty envoy to rescue him.
"From this day forward, Heavenly Sword City is incorporated into the Holy Dynasty's territory." Jian Wuming's voice spread across the plaza. "All sword cultivators must register with the Holy Dynasty and swear allegiance within three days. Those who defy this order… will have their cultivation abolished, their swords shattered, and their lives forfeit."
Dead silence fell over the crowd—no one dared to resist. Just half an hour ago, the City Lord of Heavenly Sword City—a sword dao grandmaster at the late stage of the Long Life Realm—along with his life-bonded flying sword, had been destroyed with a casual point of this seemingly harmless youth's finger. Sword shattered, man dead.
...
Northern Frontier, the Holy Dynasty's Imperial Capital—Meteor Star City.
This newly constructed mega-city was built around the meteor that had fallen here years ago. Its entirety was built from pitch-black demonic stone, its towering walls rising and falling like mountain ranges. At the city's center stood a colossal tower a thousand zhang high, its peak crowned with a massive azure crystal that slowly rotated, projecting a powerful barrier that blanketed the entire city.
Deep within the imperial palace, inside a magnificent great hall.
Qin Ao sat enthroned upon the Nine-Dragon Black Obsidian Imperial Seat, draped in a dark golden imperial robe. His face was hidden behind a curtain of beaded pearls, with only a pair of abyss-deep eyes faintly visible. Ten years had left no mark on his features; instead, his imposing presence had only grown more profound—like a mountain looming over a chasm, daring no one to meet his gaze.
Below, ten figures stood side by side, each distinct in appearance, yet every one radiating heaven-shaking aura. They were the Ten Holy Sons who had struck terror across the Spirit Realm.
"Reporting to the Holy Emperor, the East Domain has been pacified. The Biyun Immortal Sect resisted and has been exterminated according to law." The Seventh Holy Son, Zhan Wuji, bowed and reported, his voice ringing like iron.
"The thirty-six sword sects of the West Domain have all surrendered. Resisters have been eliminated." The Tenth Holy Son, Jian Wuming, spoke casually, as though recounting something utterly trivial.
The remaining Holy Sons reported in turn—the Southern Frontier's demon tribes, the Northern Sea's aquatic clans, the remnants of the Central Continent… the Holy Dynasty's territory was expanding at an astonishing pace.
Qin Ao listened in silence, his fingers tapping lightly against the armrest of the imperial throne, producing a dull, heart-chilling thud.
Over ten years, he had leveraged the military experience and managerial skills from his past life as a mercenary to forge the once-disorganized demonic factions into a highly efficient war machine. The law of the strong devouring the weak was brutal, yet it fiercely motivated lower-ranking cultivators to climb upward.
And the policy of judging solely by ability, regardless of birth, had attracted vast numbers of "oddities" and "geniuses" ostracized by the righteous path.
The Ten Holy Sons were the finest examples.
Among them were those born into poverty, those once abandoned by their families—but in the Holy Dynasty, they received resources, techniques, and status, swiftly growing into figures that struck terror into all who heard their names.
"Well done." Qin Ao finally spoke, his voice calm yet carrying an invisible weight. "But the Spirit Realm is not yet unified. Those stubborn old relics in the Central Continent are still resisting."
His gaze swept across the Ten Holy Sons before settling on a figure shrouded in black robes. "First Holy Son, what is the situation on your end?"
The black robes stirred slightly, and a hoarse voice emerged. "Holy Emperor, resistance in the Central Continent is fierce. The major sects have formed the 'Anti-Holy Alliance' and appointed the Sect Master of the Heavenly Dao Sect as their leader. They are holding their ground behind fortified cities."
"Oh?" A flicker of interest crossed Qin Ao's eyes. "It seems those old codgers still have some fight in them. In that case…"
He slowly rose to his feet. A terrifying pressure instantly engulfed the entire great hall—everyone beyond the Ten Holy Sons involuntarily bowed their heads.
"I shall personally lead the campaign against the Central Continent." Qin Ao's voice boomed like thunder from the nine heavens, echoing across the skies above all of Meteor Star City. "Ten years is enough. It is time to put an end to this farce."
"All hail the Holy Emperor's wisdom!" The Ten Holy Sons responded in unison.
Qin Ao's gaze pierced through the great hall, looking southward, as if seeing the land that still dared to resist.
He knew nothing of any grand chess game of heaven and earth, nor that he was merely a piece on the board. In his eyes, this was simply a conquest—a magnificent crusade to impose the law of the strong devouring the weak upon the entire world.
"Pass the order. In three months, we march on the Central Continent." Qin Ao's voice was cold and absolute. "Those who submit shall prosper. Those who resist… shall perish."
The imperial decree went forth, and the entire Holy Dynasty began to operate like a precision war machine.
Countless black-armored cultivators mustered from every region. Warships blotted out the sky, and demonic flames surged heavenward. The Ten Holy Sons each led an army—ten razor-sharp blades aimed straight at the last pure land of the Spirit Realm.
The dark age had descended.
...
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