The drums of war sounded thrice, leaving only echoes across the vast plaza. Yet, upon the high eastern dais, the seat of power remained vacant, devoid of the revered figure expected by all.

Then, from the palace gates at the plaza’s rear, strode a warrior clad in shimmering gold armor. His gaze swept the assembled throng, finally settling upon the vanguard. “Ye Demon Generals,” he boomed, his voice a thunderclap, “step forth!”

At his command, the colossal doors of the Sky Demon Gate groaned open, revealing a procession of formidable figures… the Demon Generals, each attended by a retinue of lesser sorcerers. As they entered the plaza, every eye diverted from the empty dais, focusing upon this imposing display of martial might.

A grim-faced lieutenant general, Xuan, opened his eyes, his gaze burning with resentment as he fixed it upon one particular figure among the Generals. He scoffed, a sound of pure disdain.

The object of his scorn was Wang Lin, who walked beside the stoic Mo Lihai. Wang Lin met the lieutenant general’s stare briefly before turning his attention elsewhere.

Mo Lihai, his brow furrowed in concern, glanced at the empty seat of the Emperor. “Strange,” he muttered. “Why has His Majesty not arrived?”

One by one, hundreds of Demon Generals emerged from the Sky Demon Gate, forming ranks on either side of the plaza. An aura of palpable menace radiated from them, filling the air with the scent of impending battle.

“By order of the Emperor,” the golden-armored warrior announced, his voice a deep rumble. “The Demon General’s War shall proceed according to tradition, governed by the rules of challenge!”

He continued, “The vanquished may call upon their attendants for aid. Likewise, the victor may yield, allowing their attendant to take their place. Should a General win both contests, they shall be deemed victorious. Should they split the contests, both General and attendant shall be disqualified! Furthermore, the ultimate victor of this round shall be forbidden from further challenges!”

The warrior’s pronouncements, though delivered calmly, hung heavy in the air. Wang Lin’s eyes narrowed as he comprehended the implications of these rules.

Beneath the veneer of tradition lay a bloody gauntlet. The seemingly innocuous stipulation of disqualification for a split decision transformed the contest into a desperate struggle for survival. A single defeat meant not only personal failure but also the compulsion to sabotage their victor, ensuring their own banishment alongside their enemy.

“This is not a mere trial,” Wang Lin thought grimly, “but a brutal culling.”

“Let it be known,” the golden warrior continued, his voice echoing through the plaza, “that death may occur during the Demon General’s War, but the fallen must be from among the attendants, never the Generals. Any who slay a Demon General shall be executed forthwith!”

Wang Lin frowned, casting a cold glance at the golden-armored figure.

“A trial of Generals, a slaughter of sorcerers, all for the sake of ascension. Here, in the Demon Spirit Lands, only those forged in blood may claim their rightful place,” Wang Lin mused, his eyes downcast, his words unspoken.

“The combatants shall be named by my hand!” The golden warrior declared, extending a gauntleted finger towards a slender figure in the crowd.

“Demon General Mu Yun, step forth!”

The warrior thus named moved with quiet grace, crossing the plaza in a few swift strides. He stood tall, clad in simple armor, his face gaunt, and his eyes sunken.

He remained motionless, a silent sentinel carved from ancient wood.

“Mu Yun!” A hushed whisper rippled through the crowd. “He ranks among the top thirty Demon Generals. It is said he cultivates the Nine Deaths, Nine Lives technique, having mastered the fifth stage three centuries past!”

“To unleash such a powerful warrior in the first contest! This Demon General’s War promises to be intriguing!”

“I wonder who will dare challenge him. To win the first battle is certain to draw the Emperor’s attention, even if he is absent today, the battle reports will be delivered to him directly.”

“Ten breaths shall be granted for a challenger to emerge. If none present themselves, I shall choose for them!” The golden warrior stated, his eyes closing as he retreated into silence.

Within the plaza, the slender Demon General stood patiently. As the fifth breath drew near, a figure emerged from the ranks of assembled warriors!

At the appearance of Shi Xiao, Demon General Mu Yun’s eyes ignited with a fierce, emerald light.

A collective gasp echoed through the plaza.

“Shi Xiao!”

“Demon General Shi Xiao! His power rivals even that of the High Generals! Is this not a cruel mismatch?”

“I had expected Shi Xiao’s adversary to be Mo Lihai! Three centuries ago, Mo Lihai etched the first scar upon Shi Xiao’s face, a blemish that Shi Xiao considers his greatest humiliation!”

Shi Xiao’s features could only be described as unnervingly beautiful. He advanced towards Mu Yun, halting thirty paces away. “Mu Yun,” he stated, his voice level. “You are no match for me. Withdraw.”

Demon General Mu Yun grinned, the expression ghastly against his hollow face, like the smile of a corpse. A wave of chilling dread swept through the air.

“Shi Xiao!” Mu Yun’s right hand snapped out, conjuring tendrils of emerald mist that writhed between his fingers. Crackling sounds echoed as five serpentine strands of magical energy danced around his hand. “Five strands of life and death energy! It seems you have breached the seventh layer of the Nine Deaths, Nine Lives technique!” Shi Xiao regarded Mu Yun with disdain. “Still, it is not enough.”

Mu Yun sneered and thrust his hand forward. The five strands of emerald energy twisted and elongated, hurtling towards Shi Xiao with alarming speed.

The strands tore through the air, accompanied by a piercing shriek and the stench of decay.

Several of the gathered Demon Generals fixed their gazes upon the approaching emerald tendrils, their eyes wide with apprehension.

Shi Xiao shook his head, remaining rooted to the spot. With a fluid motion, his right hand flicked out, first the index finger, then the middle, followed by the ring finger. Finally, his hand flattened into a palm, and he pressed it forward.

A shimmering, diamond-shaped glyph materialized before Shi Xiao, flashing brightly before colliding with Mu Yun’s five strands of emerald energy.

The impact unleashed a thunderous roar. A swirling vortex of dust erupted from the ground as the emerald strands were drawn into the glyph, shredded, and scattered as fading green sparks.

At the same time, the glyph continued its advance, striking Mu Yun before he could react, and erupting into a blinding blast that threw him back.
The earth trembled beneath the force of the collapsing spell, driving a visible wave of energy that bleached Mu Yun’s face and forced him back several paces. He regained his footing, a flicker of shock in his eyes.

“I told you, you are not enough,” Stonehowl said, retracting his right hand with a cold serenity. “Your champion may now reveal himself.”

As the words left his lips, a deeper tremor shook the ground. From amongst the ranks of the demon-knights, a mountainous figure emerged. Swollen with muscle, he must have weighed hundreds of stones. His chest was bare, and with each earth-shattering step, he drew closer.

After three paces, he stood before Stonehowl, a grotesque grin stretching across his face. “Little whelp,” he boomed, “I am Torqueman of the Giantfist Sect, champion of the demon-knight Mu Yun!”

Wang Lin observed the hulking warrior. The Giantfist Sect was a renowned school from the world of Tian Yun, their arts said to bear a resemblance to the brutal power of the Giant Demons. They were masters of force incarnate.

The giant roared, lurching forward. A surge of celestial energy erupted from his pores, coalescing into a swirling mist that cloaked him in a shimmering shroud. He charged at Stonehowl with incredible speed, a guttural chant resonating from within the mist. The very air within a hundred paces crackled with a strange power, forming a field of arcane binding.

Amongst the demon-knights, another portly individual stood watching. Dressed in a scholar’s robe, a massive sword strapped to his back, he narrowed his eyes, muttering to himself, “His current state…it bears a similarity to my Sword Soul.”

Stonehowl scoffed, his feet planted firmly as if rooted to the earth. He extended his right hand, fingers flashing as he pressed a series of points in the empty air. His five digits converged into a sharp cone, aimed directly forward.

As his fingers danced in the air, strands of demonic energy unfurled from his body, black as midnight, coiling around his hand and strengthening his pointed attack.

Just as the giant crashed forward, Stonehowl thrust his hand. The conical point of his fingers pierced through the celestial mist as easily as a pike through water, like a raging dragon emerging from the sea, and slammed directly into the center of the giant’s brow!

Stonehowl was too swift.

The giant roared in frustration as the momentum of his charge was abruptly extinguished by that single, piercing point. His face contorted in agony, and with surprising agility, he lurched backward.

Crack! Crack! Crack! The ground shattered beneath his hasty retreat. The giant stumbled back three paces, each spanning many feet. With each step, gouts of blood sprayed from his body. On his final stride, he shuddered, and his massive form disintegrated in a gruesome eruption of gore, his flesh splattering across the plaza.

Five dark tendrils of energy snaked from the bloody remains, returning to Stonehowl, disappearing into his form.

“The demon-knight battles are fought to the death! Those who meddle in their affairs will share their fate!” Stonehowl declared, not even glancing at the carnage. His eyes burned with a cold light as he turned to face Mo Lihai amongst the ranks of the demon-knights.

“Mo Lihai, dare you face me in single combat?” His challenge echoed across the arena, igniting a flurry of murmurs amongst the onlookers. The recent bloodshed had clearly awakened their bloodlust.

Mo Lihai simply stared back at Stonehowl. “I was defeated by Mo Fei,” he stated flatly. “I will not participate in this demon-knight contest.”

A flicker of murderous intent flashed in Stonehowl’s eyes. He held Mo Lihai’s gaze for a long moment, then shifted his attention to Wang Lin, who stood beside him. “You,” he said, his voice dripping with venom. “Come and play with me!”

“A battle to the death holds no interest for Wang,” Wang Lin replied, ignoring Stonehowl completely.

Stonehowl snorted in disdain. At that moment, the golden-armored judge turned his icy gaze on Wang Lin, his voice booming across the arena. “Demon-knight Stonehowl, stand down! You have won this battle. By the rules, you cannot challenge another in this round!”

Stonehowl sneered at Wang Lin, stalking towards him. As he passed, he hissed, “If Mo Lihai lacks the courage to fight, I will vent my past grievances on you!” Wang Lin remained unmoved, his face an unreadable mask.

The golden-armored man pointed a gauntleted finger at Wang Lin. “You, step forward!”

Wang Lin obeyed without a word, striding out into the center of the plaza.

“Ten breaths,” the judge announced, closing his eyes. “If no challenger appears within that time, I will name your opponent.”