“Don’t come to the God Realm anymore.” His voice fell like cold rain.

He sighed, sank onto the divine throne, and issued the order, like a stone gate closing.

Rangetsu stalled, the word “This…” snagging like a fishbone.

After hearing Naretaya, Rangetsu finally felt the weight, like a mountain pressing on his chest.

If he were Naretaya, he’d cut ties with Dark Demon without hesitation, like severing a rot‑laced rope.

But understanding didn’t mean acceptance; Rangetsu burned with unwillingness, like embers under ash.

He dared not think ill of Xinuo; but toward the Mizumi Clan, he was bitterly jealous, like bile in the throat.

Why could that mere hundred‑strong Mizumi Clan monopolize the vast, resource‑rich Central Continent, like a whale swallowing the sea?

Just because they had a blessed ancestor and a powerful patron, like shelter beneath a giant tree?

Rangetsu was born poor, clawing from nothing through every hardship, like walking barefoot over thorns.

And the Mizumi did nothing, born with everything set before them, like jade trays at birth.

Thus, their existence taught him: the world looked like a peaceful age, yet its core was dictatorship, like silk covering iron.

In his eyes, the Mizumi Clan was a dictator, like a hand on the throat.

A hundred people hid in the Central Continent, indulging and ignoring the world, like turtles in a sunlit pond.

Before Yugou Sage appeared, why were there so many wars, like brushfires across dry plains?

People fought for scraps of resources, like wolves over bone.

Back then, the Central Continent hosted a dozen strongest powers, brawling daily for a sliver more, like storm clouds colliding.

After Yugou Sage broke the world’s blaze, and with Xinuo’s deliberate support, the millennia of war did stop, like rain dousing a furnace.

But in exchange, the number of peak experts plummeted—most cut down by Yugou Sage, like trees felled in a single winter.

Old powers toppled as the Mizumi rose, leaving only five: God Race, Demon Race, Dragon Kin, Elven Kind, and Human Race, like five pillars in an empty hall.

As for the Orcs, the Sea Folk, and other once‑glorious clans, they became appendages to the five, like vines clinging to ancient walls.

The Mizumi weren’t only dictators, but lazy bloodsuckers, like leeches basking on warm stone.

They stifled others, drank their blood, and did nothing, chasing pleasure, like moths circling lanterns.

How rotten was that, like fruit gone black?

Rangetsu truly believed the Mizumi’s existence was unreasonable and unnecessary, like a lock on a public well.

Why should all growth be shackled by them, like iron rings on saplings?

What gave them the right to clamp chains on every force, like frost sealing a river?

Was it merely Xinuo’s backing, like a shadow cast by a mountain?

So a thought sprouted in him: overthrow the Mizumi Clan, like a seed cracking the soil.

Fortunately, in every race and faction, many shared that thought, like sparks finding dry tinder.

He gathered them from across the world and founded Dark Demon, like stitching rebels into a cloak.

Years of growth made it a very strong force, like a wave swelling before the storm.

Setting aside race‑based powers, Dark Demon ranked second only to the Mizumi—so Rangetsu believed—like a banner just below the pinnacle.

But now... the Dragon Realm branch was wiped out, and the God Race withdrew support, like two pillars kicked from a roof.

These two blows gutted Dark Demon, even if it was his own fault, like knives he turned upon himself.

Yet his revolutionary heart didn’t cool; it burned fiercer, like a forge pumped by bellows.

Thankfully, even losing the God Race today didn’t mean Dark Demon lacked partners, like rivers finding new channels.

Yes, he had to decide quickly, like a falcon stooping before dusk.

With that, Rangetsu bowed deep to Naretaya, like a pine bending under snow.

Thank you, God King, for your years of support, like a lantern held through long nights.

If chance comes, Dark Demon will repay in full, like spring returning to old fields.

Then, I’ll take my leave, like a leaf riding the current.

He sighed, heart tangled, then blinked out in a teleport from the God King’s Palace, like a ripple vanishing on a lake.

…

“God King, did you feel something odd about Rangetsu, like a thorn under silk?”

“Odd?” Naretaya glanced at Gabrielle, eyes clouded like mist.

“Yes. Maybe you missed it in anger, like thunder grumbling in a storm.”

“His strength has surged far beyond last time, like a river in flood.”

“He’s reached the Lord God tier, like a mountain peak breaching clouds.”

“And even after taking two strikes from you, he recovered fully in no time, like spring water closing over a stone.”

“Maybe he had some recent lucky encounter, like stumbling on a hidden spring.”

Naretaya didn’t take it to heart, like brushing dust from a sleeve.

Right now, he only wanted to mend ties with the Dragon Kin, like stitching a torn sail.

“Also, there’s something I’m not sure I should say, like a bird hesitating on a branch.”

Seeing his tired face, Gabrielle wavered, like dusk lingering on the horizon.

“What is it? Just say it, like a blade drawn clean.”

“Mm. From the latest intelligence, wars have increased these years, like storm belts crossing the seas.”

“Most were sparked by Dark Demon, like flint thrown into dry grass.”

“Though they lost footholds in the God Realm and Dragon Realm, they’re growing elsewhere at a rapid pace, like bamboo after rain.”

“As if someone is deliberately pushing them forward, like a hidden hand behind a curtain.”

“I worry the world may be headed for turmoil again, like a drumbeat under the ground.”

“Who knows.” Naretaya still didn’t take it to heart, like a stone untouched by waves.

He looked past the palace toward the blazing sun, like an eye of fire nailed to the sky.

“Even if the sky collapses, the Mizumi Clan will hold it up, like pillars under heaven.”

“Even if the world crashes, it’s no concern of ours, like rain falling beyond the eaves.”

“With the Mizumi bearing the title of World Guardians, we mind the God Realm, like monks tending their own temple.”

“Everything outside isn’t our affair, like wind beyond the wall.”

He added silently, They’ve enjoyed the Central Continent’s resources so long; they’d better give something back, like debt coming due at winter’s end.

“Mm, that’s true.” Gabrielle nodded in agreement, like a reed bending to the breeze.

With the Mizumi here, when would it ever be our turn to worry about the world, like small boats leaving big ships to the storm?

…

On the other side, Rangetsu left the God Realm and raced to a forbidden ground on the Northern Abyss Continent, like a hawk slicing across gray sky.

He crushed a mind‑jade in his hand— a magically processed jade used to notify other holders— like ice splintering in the palm.

“Rangetsu, it seems you’ve finally decided,” like drums rolling from a deep valley.

A deep voice sounded, and three figures faded into view before him, like silhouettes rising from mist.

At their head stood a powerfully built middle‑aged man, like a cliff face with veins of iron.

His strength was terrifying, at the Law Realm, like law‑lines etched across the sky.

He even seemed to be catching up to Naretaya, like a shadow closing on a sunlit peak.

The other two were a young couple, each at high‑rank Lord God, like twin stars burning white.

Most striking, their energy felt strange, and their clothes were bizarre, like patterns from a foreign constellation.

Everything about them felt out of tune with this world, like foreign birds perched in a bamboo grove.

They seemed like people from another world, like travelers stepping through fog gates.

Stranger still, Rangetsu stood respectful before them, yet his eyes held a trace of disbelief, like frost flickering over fire.