The dust of the Red Desert never truly settles. It hangs in the air like a persistent ghost, coating everything in a fine, rust-colored grit. As the Lizard Demon General's silhouette vanished into the shimmering heat haze of the horizon, a heavy silence descended upon the wasteland, broken only by the ragged breathing of the three survivors.
"Thank you, Senior, for pulling us back from the brink once again!"
The eldest of the three Poison Ants was the first to find his feet. He moved with a gingerly stiffness, his exoskeleton cracked in several places, leaking a pale, viscous fluid. His two companions scrambled up beside him, their movements frantic and uncoordinated, fueled by a mixture of lingering terror and profound disbelief. They didn't just bow; they collapsed into a posture of deep, trembling reverence.
Their eyes, dark and multifaceted, were fixed on the young man standing before them. Luo Zhen looked largely unchanged, yet the air around him had curdled into something dense and suffocating. The spiritual pressure radiating from his frame wasn't just heavy—it was regal.
"Senior... you've truly done it," the eldest ant whispered, his voice trembling with a mix of awe and existential dread. "The Demon King Realm. You've actually ascended."
Luo Zhen didn't immediately answer. He looked down at his own hands, feeling the thrum of the Demon Infant within his dantian—a source of power so vast it felt like harboring a miniature sun. The transition from the Demon Core to the Demon King was more than a step in cultivation; it was a fundamental restructuring of one's soul. To these three, he was no longer just a powerful cultivator; he was a force of nature.
"Skip the theatrics," Luo Zhen said, his voice calm but carrying the weight of a mountain. He waved a hand, dismissing their bows. "The desert is a cruel place for the weak, but even the weak usually have enough sense to stay out of a predator's den. Tell me, what possessed the three of you to provoke Red Rock City?"
The three Poison Ants shared a look of profound shame. The middle one, whose left arm hung limp and useless at his side, let out a hollow, bitter laugh.
"After we parted ways with you, Senior, we were blinded by the past. We didn't leave the city. We stayed in the shadows of the lower districts, nursing our old grudges like a sickness. We thought we were being clever. We targeted the Black Market's couriers—small-time thugs, we thought. We figured the city's masters wouldn't notice a few missing rats in the gutter."
He paused, coughing up a bit of dark ichor. "We were wrong. We didn't just kill some lackeys; we accidentally disrupted a shipment meant for the brothers themselves. The Lizard General wasn't just sent to kill us; he was sent to make an example of us. We fought as long as we could, fleeing toward the open dunes, but we were spent. If you hadn't appeared when you did... we would have been nothing more than sun-bleached bones by sunset."
Luo Zhen's brow furrowed. He knew the geography of power in this region. Red Rock City wasn't just a settlement; it was an iron-fisted monopoly run by the Black Bear brothers. To strike at the Black Market was to strike at their literal lifeblood. For three mid-stage Demon Core cultivators to attempt such a feat was worse than suicide—it was an insult to the hierarchy of the Red Desert.
"You three are lucky to be alive," Luo Zhen sighed, the sound carrying a touch of weary disappointment. "But I suppose fate has a strange way of weaving our paths together. I won't watch you bleed out in the sand."
He stepped forward, his silhouette cutting a sharp line against the burning sun. With a fluid motion of his sleeve, he unleashed a cascade of brilliant, emerald-tinted light.
This was the manifestation of the Cyan Jade Spirit Body. As the light touched the three ants, the air grew cool and smelled faintly of rain and pine—a sharp contrast to the sulfurous heat of the desert. The energy didn't just sit on their skin; it soaked into their wounds. Shattered carapaces began to knit back together with audible clicks, and the dull, gray film over their eyes cleared into a healthy luster.
While the healing properties of the Cyan Jade Spirit Body were most potent when used on Luo Zhen himself, even a fraction of its power was a miracle to those of lower realms. The three ants hurriedly sat cross-legged, closing their eyes to guide the life-giving energy through their damaged meridians.
Far to the west, within the monolithic obsidian walls of Red Rock City, the atmosphere was considerably more volatile.
The Lizard Demon General knelt on the cold stone floor of the Great Hall, his head pressed so low it touched the boots of his masters. He was shaking, his scales pale with a cold sweat.
"He... he didn't care for the city's laws, My Lord," the lizard stammered. "I told him we were your personal guard. I told him the ants were property of the Black Bear Clan. He didn't even blink. He just... he just looked through me as if I were a ghost."
A massive hand, covered in coarse black fur and ending in obsidian-sharp claws, slammed down onto a nearby table. The heavy mahogany didn't just break; it detonated, sending splinters flying like shrapnel across the room.
"Enough!"
The roar came from Xiong He, the younger of the two brothers. Even in his human form, he stood nearly eight feet tall, a mountain of muscle and dark, leathery skin. His eyes glowed with a feral, amber light. As an early-stage Demon King, he had long forgotten what it felt like to be defied.
"A nameless brat thinks he can squat in our desert and dictate who lives and dies?" Xiong He spat, his voice like grinding stones. "He's spitting on our faces, brother! We've ruled Red Rock for decades. If we let this slide, the Black Market will be in shambles by next week. Every petty thief will think they can find a 'Senior' to hide behind."
Beside him, Xiong Shan—the elder brother and a mid-stage Demon King—remained seated, his presence far more stifling than his brother's hot-headed rage. He was wider, his skin darker, and his aura as stagnant and heavy as a deep swamp. He didn't roar; he simmered.
"An unfamiliar Demon King," Xiong Shan mused, his voice a low vibration that made the Lizard General's teeth ache. "The Red Desert is a harsh mistress; few reach the Demon Infant stage without us knowing their lineage. If he is new, he lacks the wisdom of the old ways. He needs to be taught that power is not just about cultivation—it is about territory."
He stood up, the movement slow and deliberate. "Come, brother. Let us see if this 'Senior' is made of jade or mere glass."
Without another word, the two brothers stepped out onto the balcony and launched themselves into the sky. They didn't fly with the grace of birds; they moved like cannonballs, two streaks of oppressive black light tearing through the atmosphere, leaving twin sonic booms in their wake.
Back in the dunes, the healing process was nearing completion. The three Poison Ants looked transformed, their vitality restored, though their spirits remained shaken.
Suddenly, Luo Zhen's head snapped toward the west. His eyes narrowed, his spiritual sense detecting two massive ripples in the ambient energy of the desert. They were approaching fast—aggressive, unbridled, and dripping with murderous intent.
"Senior?" the eldest ant asked, sensing the sudden shift in the air.
"The bill has arrived," Luo Zhen said, his voice dropping an octave. "The lizard went running to his masters, and the bears have decided to collect. Two Demon Kings. One mid-stage, one early."
The three ants paled, their newfound strength feeling suddenly inadequate. "Two? Senior, we cannot let you face them alone because of our folly. We will—"
"You will die," Luo Zhen interrupted, his gaze never leaving the horizon. "You are in the Demon Core realm. To a Demon King, you are nothing more than dust under a boot. Your presence here won't help me; it will only give them a hostage to use against me. Leave. Now. Run until you hit the southern oasis and don't look back."
The ants hesitated, torn between loyalty and the very real instinct for survival.
"Go!" Luo Zhen barked, a flicker of his spiritual pressure pushing them back. "I didn't waste my energy healing you just so you could be collateral damage. Move!"
Realizing the logic in his words, the three ants bowed one last time—a gesture of profound gratitude and a silent farewell—and bolted into the dunes, disappearing into the maze of sand.
They hadn't been gone for more than a minute when the sky turned dark. Two streaks of black light descended like falling stars, slamming into the earth fifty yards from Luo Zhen. The impact sent a shockwave through the sand, creating a massive crater and kicking up a wall of dust.
As the grit settled, the two brothers stepped forward.
Luo Zhen's internal system immediately kicked in, scrolling data across his mind's eye. He assessed Xiong Shan, first—mid-stage Demon King, aura stable, hidden artifacts he couldn't yet scan. Then Xiong He—early-stage, aggressive, carrying a suite of low-grade artifacts.
"So," Xiong He said, his voice dripping with condescension as he eyed Luo Zhen. "You're the one. You look a bit thin for a Demon King. Which hole did you crawl out of? I know every king in the Red Desert, and you aren't one of them."
Luo Zhen smiled, a thin, dangerous expression. "The world is larger than your little patch of sand, Bear. Just because you haven't seen the sun doesn't mean it doesn't rise."
"Arrogance!" Xiong He roared. "Do you think the Demon King realm is like the street market? You think you can just show up and claim status? In the Red Desert, there are barely twenty of us who have formed a Demon Infant. You're an interloper, a thief of providence."
Xiong Shan stepped forward, his eyes calculating. "Enough talk. Surnamed Luo, I'll give you one chance. My men tell me you protected the three ants that robbed our market. Hand them over, and perhaps we can discuss a tribute instead of a burial."
"I sent them away," Luo Zhen said simply. "They are under my protection. And my protection isn't for sale."
"Then you've chosen your grave," Xiong He snarled. He didn't wait for his brother. In a flash of black light, a longsword appeared in his hand, its blade shimmering with a sickly grey radiance. It was the Shadow-Fly Sword, a true artifact.
Xiong He lunged.
The air screamed as he swung the blade, a fifty-meter crescent of grey energy tearing through the sky. It wasn't just a physical strike; it was a condensation of spiritual will, designed to bypass the defenses of anything lesser than a King.
Luo Zhen didn't flinch. In his hand, the Thunder Cloud Blade materialized, its edge crackling with blue-white lightning. He countered with a vertical slash, a bolt of thunderous saber qi meeting the grey crescent head-on.
The collision was deafening. The desert floor buckled, and for a moment, the world was nothing but blinding light and the smell of ozone. But as the smoke cleared, the grey sword-light, backed by the weight of a true artifact, shattered the lightning and continued its path.
Luo Zhen frowned. He pivoted, his wrist moving in a blur as he sent out three more waves of saber qi while simultaneously conjuring a wall of Cyan Scale Flame. The emerald fire roared to life, clashing with the remnants of the grey energy.
The flame held for a few heartbeat-stretching seconds before the sword-light pierced through. Luo Zhen raised his blade to parry, but the impact was staggering. The Thunder Cloud Blade, a mere pseudo-artifact, couldn't handle the concentrated essence of a true King's weapon. With a sound like shattering glass, the blade disintegrated into a thousand steel shards.
Luo Zhen was thrown back, his boots carving deep furrows in the sand. He looked at the empty hilt in his hand and tossed it aside.
"Is that it?" Xiong He laughed, his confidence swelling into a bloated arrogance. "A Demon King without a proper artifact? You're like a child playing with a wooden sword. Kneel, boy. Kowtow a hundred times, and I might let you serve as a gatekeeper in Red Rock City."
Luo Zhen wiped a speck of dust from his shoulder. He looked at the two brothers, his expression shifting from defensive to something much colder, something ancient.
"I told you," Luo Zhen said, his voice echoing with a strange, multi-tonal quality. "I only ascended an hour ago. I haven't had time to shop for toys. But fortunately for me... I don't need them."
"Die!" Xiong He screamed, tired of the talk. He raised his sword high, channeling every drop of his essence into his ultimate technique: the Shadow-Fly Slash. The sky filled with hundreds of grey sword shadows, each one a lethal spear of energy, all converging on Luo Zhen like a collapsing cage.
Xiong Shan watched from the sidelines, his arms crossed. To him, the fight was over. No King could survive a barrage of that magnitude without a high-grade defensive artifact.
Luo Zhen took a deep breath. He didn't reach for a weapon. He reached for his bloodline.
"Nine-Infant... Advent!"
The world went silent. The sun seemed to dim as a shadow of impossible proportions erupted from Luo Zhen's back. It rose higher and higher, a gargantuan, serpentine entity that blotted out the sky. Nine heads, each as large as a mountain peak, swayed against the clouds, their eyes glowing like dying stars.
The aura that slammed into the desert wasn't that of a Demon King. It was the crushing, divine weight of a First-Tier Demon Emperor.
The grey sword shadows didn't just fail; they dissolved into nothingness before they even reached Luo Zhen, snuffed out by the sheer pressure of the phantom's presence.
"What... what is that?" Xiong's voice was a thin wheeze. His sword fell from his nerveless fingers. Beside him, Xiong Shan's composure shattered. He tried to turn, tried to flee, but the air had turned into lead.
Luo Zhen looked up, his eyes reflecting the golden glow of the phantom. He pointed a single finger at the two brothers.
Two of the Nine-Infant's heads lunged forward, their maws opening to reveal a furnace of golden light. Two pillars of pure, solar-grade energy erupted, incinerating the very air as they traveled.
There was no scream. There was only a flash of absolute white.
When the light faded, the Nine-Infant phantom dissipated into the ether, its summoning time exhausted. Luo Zhen stood alone in the center of a transformed landscape. Where the brothers had stood, two massive, glass-lined craters reached deep into the earth.
Everything—the flesh, the bones, the Demon Infants, the very souls of the Black Bear brothers—had been erased from existence.
Luo Zhen walked to the edge of the first pit. At the very bottom, amidst the cooling slag and fine grey ash, two items glinted with a stubborn, resilient light. A set of obsidian armor and a heavy, masterfully forged saber.
He reached out, the artifacts flying into his hand.
"A bit late," Luo Zhen murmured to the empty desert, "but I suppose I finally have my artifacts."