Chapter 147: Raschlong's Report
A few days had passed since the bloody battle in the Crimson Forest.
The air in the chamber was still, heavy with incense and faint traces of burnt miasma. Raschlong knelt on one knee before a towering holographic projection—its form that of a broad-shouldered demon seated upon a black throne, eyes like molten pits.
The Demon Lord of the Whispering Expanse True World regarded him with a cold, unreadable gaze.
"Milord!" Raschlong's voice was steady at first, but the faint tremor in it betrayed both the pain of his injuries and the unease he felt in the presence of this being.
The Demon Lord's tone was casual—dangerously so.
"Tell me… where is the Key? Were you able to subdue it?"
"This… about that—" Raschlong hesitated, the words catching in his throat.
A faint pressure leaked from the projection, but it was enough to reopen half-healed wounds beneath Raschlong's gauze. Blood dampened the wrappings.
"Don't tell me you've failed me," the Demon Lord said, voice low and edged. "That couldn't be the case. Right?"
"Milord…" Raschlong swallowed, choosing his words carefully. "That person… has grown at a ridiculous rate. And not just him—those around him as well."
The Demon Lord leaned forward slightly, the shadows around him deepening.
"Oh? Even if they've grown, that does not excuse the fact that you—a Mortal Lord—should have been able to crush them."
Raschlong said nothing for a long moment. Then, lifting his head, his voice carried a grim weight.
"Forgive my presumption, Milord, but you have underestimated them. The Key—no… Daoist Blue Heavens Sword—has become a Golden Lord, and not one just any early-stage Mortal Lord can suppress. With him were two others: the Fanged Elf Royal, Shayleaf Crimsonroot—her name rose meteoric four years ago—and she broke through in my presence, stepping into the Golden Lord realm before brushing the Mortal Shedding Realm itself. And then there was the girl from the Aka Boshi no Tengan clan, always at his side—also a Golden Lord now…"
The Demon Lord's brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing. "Hmph… such claims…"
Yet as Raschlong continued, the fury in his master's face gave way to cold calculation. For so many prodigies to appear in a single generation was already rare. For this group's strength to spike so suddenly in just four years was… dangerous.
The Demon Lord's voice was sharp.
"Give me everything. Every detail of every single person in that area. I want their abilities, their looks, demeanor, possible factions—everything you observed."
"Yes, Milord…"
A few hours later Raschlong sat down with a grim expression on his face with a bitter smile. Truthfully, while his pride was hurt he still felt like if things had not gone the way they had back then he probably would have eventually succeeded in at least killing one of those people with his truly all out attacks regardless of if he faced even more severe injuries…
He then sat there reminiscing on that day before the battle concluded and he was forced to flee.
The fight had been long, but I was still pressing the 'Key'. My swords—two red swords wreathed in purple demonic ki—kept him on edge. His defense was ironclad, but sooner or later, it would crack.
Then—
A violent surge of energy tore through the battlefield, so raw it made even me pause. The Fanged Elf Royal, Shayleaf Crimsonroot, convulsed mid-cultivation. Her aura erupted like a storm breaking the world's spine.
Roots split stone, miasma twisted into choking spirals, and the bloody forest trembled. Then… it shifted. The wild force smoothed into a crushing, regal pressure.
She opened her eyes—gold, green, and crimson light flooding the air. Magic warped around her, the oppressive majesty of her presence brushing the Mortal Shedding Realm.
Her voice cracked the air:
"Don't you dare harm Sister Chrissy and Brother Elly again… you disgusting demon!!!"
Bloody nature magic exploded from her, uprooting trees, tearing the ground, and searing the air with the scent of blood. Even my hardened body felt its sting.
I would not let them take the momentum. My ki roared out, my swords blazing with demonic light. The land cracked underfoot as I prepared one of my most powerful attacks in an attempt to end them all.
They gathered too. That Fae woman with Demon feature's arrows blazed crimson, the masked girl's palms shone with lethal light, the barely masked fanged elf royal's roots coiled beneath the soil, and the 'Key's Blue sword hummed with lightning and starfire. Four Crimson-eyed elites stepped forward to join them.
Desperation in all their faces—except his. The 'key' Daoist Blue Heaven's Sword, stood bloodied, the bottom of his mask gone, mouth set in disdainful arrogance.
I would wipe that expression away from his face!
And then they came. Two Crimson-eyed Mortal Lords descended like meteors, their mighty auras slamming into the field. The Fanged Elf male and the Sylvanid warrior landed, their killing intent crashing against mine. My technique collided with the barrage of combined attacks.
Their interference turned the clash into an all-consuming explosion that tore me off my feet, blood spilling from my mouth.
During such a dire moment I could not help but to keep most of my focus on them and that's when I made my mistake.
Daoist Blue Heaven sword vanished.
He reappeared at my flank, sword already mid-strike.
—Heaven-Piercing Radiance Fang—
The attack was fused with Royal Elven magic and I was not able to defend against it.
Pain tore through my right leg as the blade pierced clean through, lightning exploding inside me. The blast nearly severed the limb. I swung my sword in reflex, but roots erupted from the ground, halting my strike! From the distance, I can see the fanged elf Royal utilizing her magic again.
The two Crimson-eyed Mortal Lords pressed in, attacks unrelenting. With my leg crippled, the fight shifted from battle to survival.
I fled, cursing them all.
Back to the present time.
Raschlong stared at his right leg—the injury still bound in gauze etched with sealing runes. Mortal Lord bodies generally recovered quickly from most wounds, but this one… this would take far too long if at all.
His lip curled in rage and… unease. Hunting them now, in this state, was far from certain. Their current power was already a problem. Their future potential? Terrifying.
A presence stirred at the doorway. Another early-stage Mortal Lord entered, eyes hollow. He was tasked to work alongside Raschlong in capturing Elton dead or alive.
"We don't have much time. We should move."
"…Yes," Raschlong muttered, forcing himself to rise. The fury in his chest burned hot, but under it lay a gnawing, undeniable fear.