The wars within the Fire Demon County mattered not to Wang Lin. For thirty years, he had immersed himself wholly in the arcane arts. Unlike mere spells, the mastery of true arcane arts was a perilous climb!

Twenty years passed for Wang Lin as a mere blink of an eye. The study of arcane techniques and the manipulation of enchanted treasures caused the river of time to flow unnoticed, and so, another fifty years drifted by.

The day of his pact with the Ancient Demon drew nigh, less than a decade hence!

Throughout these near-hundred years, Wang Lin’s dedication extended beyond arcane arts and treasures to the persistent etching of the Scatter Demon Brand. Within the Scatter Demon’s very mind, Wang Lin’s mark grew ever deeper.

Yet, after decades of searching for the perfect Immolation Art, Wang Lin had only scratched the surface. The art’s wonder lay not in the quantity of arcane energy within the body, but in the comprehension of the celestial Way.

Indeed, the arcane art delved into realms far surpassing the grasp of most cultivators. It was akin to a profound and enigmatic lore, demanding endless study and insight to unlock its secrets and unleash its power.

He recalled how the Slaughtering Immortal Incantation had taken years of his life to gradually unravel and achieve a semblance of proficiency.

The Immobilization Art proved no different.

Lost in the depths of his arcane studies, Wang Lin lost all track of time. During his seclusion, the Soul Refining Tribe, at intervals, dispatched countless tribesmen to the Fire Demon County, seeking to bolster their strength with gathered souls.

This practice ceased only after forces from across the demon counties entered the Heavenly Demon County. The tribesmen ceased their forays and focused solely on defending their own territory.

Masses of tribesmen returned from the Fire Demon County, engaging in fierce battles with the invading demon soldiers of the Heavenly Demon County.

Alas, the Soul Refining Tribe was too small to contend with the invaders, forced to cower under the black mists emanating from the Soul Banner. Gradually, the invaders, unable to breach the Ancient Demon’s sealed capital, turned their attention to the Soul Refining Tribe within the Heavenly Demon County.

For this small tribe held curious secrets, most notably the black mist that shrouded their lands, a natural shield that had repelled numerous assaults.

However, not all the demon counties set their sights on the Soul Refining Tribe. Only two of the commanding officers did so. The other five turned their gaze toward the ravaged lands of Fire Demon.

The demon soldiers dispatched by the seven demon counties were not numerous. None were willing to commit to an all-out war as the Heavenly Demon County had.

At that very moment, the Water Demon County and the Lightning Demon County, each led by a vice-marshal, detached ten thousand soldiers from their ranks, encircling the Soul Refining Tribe from north and south.

The Water Demon County’s vice-marshal, a woman of unremarkable appearance, possessed eyes that gleamed with frigid intensity. Beside her stood the demon generals of the Water Demon County.

The Lightning Demon County’s vice-marshal was a burly man in his prime. Uniquely, he wore no armor. Lightning danced upon his skin, and the ground beneath his feet was scorched black.

“This small, barbaric tribe possesses such a curious treasure. How intriguing!” The man’s voice boomed like a bell, a thunderous pronouncement.

“Though our venture into the Heavenly Demon County bears little fruit, to claim this treasure and present it to the Demon Emperor would be a worthy prize!” Lightning flashed in his eyes. He stomped his foot, and the ground beneath him shattered, tendrils of lightning branching out, instantly expanding the patch of scorched earth.

With another earth-shattering step, the burly man soared into the sky, his speed a testament to his strength, nearly reaching the peak of the Soul Formation stage. In a single stride, he traversed the distance and arrived at the edge of the Soul Refining Tribe’s black mists.

Waves of demonic energy emanated from his body, forming an invisible barrier that pushed back the oppressive power of the black mists.

Within the Soul Refining Tribe, Ouyang Hua, his face serene, gazed intently at the sky. On the ground below, every member of the tribe sat cross-legged, their minds stilled.

“Souls, disperse!” Ouyang Hua roared, and in that instant, every tribesman released the souls they had gathered. At once, the entire world was filled with wisps of dark energy, the liberated souls. Under their masters’ control, they coalesced into a dark, swirling vortex, shooting out of the Soul Refining Tribe, hurtling toward the burly man. The man merely laughed, advancing instead of retreating, and hurled forth a mighty fist. That single strike contained immense demonic power, accompanied by a thunderous roar. A bolt of lightning, akin to a raging dragon, surged forth, slamming into the onrushing tide of dark souls.

Not far off, the Water Demon County’s vice-marshal watched the battle with cold eyes, saying calmly, “Marshal Lightning underestimates this black mist.”

One of the demon generals at her side, somewhat surprised, asked, “My Lady, could this black mist hold hidden secrets? Can Marshal Lightning not overcome it?”

“This mist is strange indeed. It is formed from countless souls. If left unattended, Marshal Lightning could shatter it. But with someone guiding it, Marshal Lightning must exert all his power to break through!”

The demon general at her side smiled. “All the better. We have agreed that he takes the mist, and the people of this tribe belong to us. In that way, we need not exert ourselves and can claim all the members of the Soul Refining Tribe. Studying them will surely yield us rewards.”

In the air, the burly man’s lightning dragon unleashed a deafening roar, colliding with the river of souls unleashed by the tribesmen. At the moment of impact, a shockwave of thunderous energy ripped through the air.

The black mist surrounding the Soul Refining Tribe was momentarily torn open, a gaping hole ripped into it. The burly man, crackling with lightning, bellowed, “A mere barbaric tribe dares to challenge the might of Marshal Lightning! You are but lowly ants!”

With that, he stepped through the breach in the black mist. From afar, the soldiers of the Lightning Demon County roared their approval, their voices as loud as thunder.

Their clamor amplified the burly man’s boundless power.

The Water Demon County’s vice-marshal shook her head slightly. “This battle is already decided. The Soul Refining Tribe will be wiped from the face of the earth. Prepare yourselves. Once Marshal Lightning claims the mist, you shall seize the people. Kill any barbarian who resists!”
Her retinue of demon-lieutenants echoed their assent as one.

The behemoth, wreathed in crackling lightning, strode forth, entering the heart of the Soulforge Clan’s territory. A cruel grin stretched across his face, promising the terror he expected to find in the eyes of these lesser beings.

But as he advanced, a sudden unease gripped him. The plains surrounding him for a hundred leagues were filled with the Soulforge, each warrior seated in meditation, heads rising as they met his gaze. It was not the fear he craved that he saw reflected in their eyes…

Instead, a stark, unflinching serenity, too profound to be feigned, settled over the multitude. Within that tranquility, a hint of disdain, an edge of chilling menace, sent a shiver down his spine.

The Vice-Marshal of the Thunder Demon Legion felt his steps falter under the weight of their disconcerting gaze.

He scanned the scene, his eyes drawn to the center of the village, a ten-league expanse of cleared earth. At its heart stood a towering spire, its apex lost in the swirling, crimson sky.

The behemoth’s gaze sharpened. He knew well the significance of such structures: places of worship, where a clan poured its devotion. This tower, then, was the focal point of their faith.

“Destroy this and watch that composure crumble!” he snarled, launching himself towards the tower. The warriors below remained silent, their eyes fixed upon him with unwavering intensity.

The silence pressed in upon him, an unseen force raising a prickling sensation. Yet, fueled by his own power, he dismissed his unease and, with a savage cry, swung his fist towards the spire.

“Halt.” The single word, whispered from the tower’s heart, hung in the air.

Time itself seemed to shatter. The swirling black mists stilled. An invisible force, born of the very fabric of existence, surged forth and ensnared the behemoth.

His body convulsed, the lightning arcing across his skin sputtered and died. All outward signs of his power vanished, snuffed out as a candle in a tempest.

Frozen mid-stride, his fist half-cocked, he could move nothing but his eyes. And in those eyes, terror dawned, a primal, all-consuming fear that could drown the Demon Realm itself.

From the tower’s depths, a figure emerged, each step echoing with untold power. Clad in flowing white robes, long hair dancing around him, he seemed an immortal descended.

Without a glance towards the paralyzed giant, the newcomer flicked a wrist. The behemoth was struck as if by a hurricane, a torrent of blood erupting from his lips as he was hurled from the village.

He crashed to earth, a broken meteor leaving a crimson trail. Even now, he remained incapable of movement, his limbs locked in place by the mystical paralysis.

Silence reigned.

In the distant Water Demon territory, a noblewoman’s eyes widened, her mind momentarily blank with shock. Then, with a gasp, she screamed, “Retreat! Flee!”

Too late. The figure in white strode from the Soulforge village, followed by his warriors, their faces grim and thirsting for vengeance.

The noblewoman’s face twisted in fear. “Battle formation!”

As her demon-soldiers stirred, as their dark energy rose, the figure extended his arms to the heavens, eyes closed. Decades of arcane studies had brought him to the threshold of immortal magic. Now, with every fiber of his being, he unleashed the first true spell he had learned.

“Halt!”

The word resonated, freezing reality.

Every creature outside the Soulforge village stopped.

The Soulforge warriors surged forward, crashing into the paralyzed foe. At the same time, the banner of the clan fell from the sky, smothering all around the territory in darkness.

Though the noblewoman was also frozen in place, after a brief struggle, her magical cloak flared with azure light. Terror in her eyes, she managed to escape the spell and dashed away.

But even as she did, three blades of starlight screamed through the air, quickly catching up to her. Around her, the spiritual forms of three bestial constellations shrieked. The three blades pierced the woman, ending her life and leaving behind a cloud of blood. High above the scene, the white-robed wizard paid them no mind.

“This magic… I have not yet fully mastered it,” he murmured. “Yet the appointed day with the Ancient Demons draws near. I cannot linger here longer… The time has come to depart.” With a wave of his hand, the three blades flew back to him, this time carrying the soul of the woman in the jaw of one of them.

A moon later, he left the village. Before departing, he left behind a fragment of his mind to watch over them, after he had taken with him the banner of the clan.

Instead of heading to the Fire Demon territory, he went to a place of old. There, he carefully studied each of the magical runes, imprinting all eleven in his mind.

“The ancient scrolls say there should be twelve. And now, there are only eleven. What happened to the last one…”

The land was bathed in blood. The warring of the seven provinces had turned the Fire Demon territory to a battlefield. Corpses and blood covered the territory, along with the rotting stenches that were given out by the dead and the dying.

The war was going to kill both parties involved. All of the warriors of the two territories had turned to the gruesome strategy of fighting to the very end. And both territories were going to pay dearly.
The obsidian heart of the Fire Demon Dominion, its Imperial City, stood desolate. Even the Demon Emperor himself had marched to war, leaving the vast expanse within its boundaries, save for the sacred enclave of Demon Antiquity, utterly empty.

Emulating the celestial sorcery of the Sky Demon Dominion, the ancient demons of Fire forged a binding spell, locking the city away with their own arcane power. In this fateful hour, they deemed none worthy to trespass within its walls.

The Demon Vale, the source of their power, did not lie beyond the city’s ramparts, but within its very heart. A miasma of raw demonic essence emanated from its depths, shrouding the Imperial City in an oppressive veil.

From afar, the city appeared cloaked in this swirling, infernal aura, yet mingled within it was the chilling breath of death. It resembled a city adrift in perpetual twilight, its sight stirring a profound sense of sorrow within the beholder.

Wang Lin’s footfall broke the silence as he stepped upon the parched earth before the city gates, the sound echoing with a stark clarity that magnified the surrounding stillness.

The crimson ground, stained a color not of nature but of tragedy, yielded beneath his weight with a sickening squelch. A loathsome mire formed of blood, the essence of countless souls spilled across the land over the past century, seeped into the soil.