Cerol City, inside the palace’s grand hall, where pillars rose like frozen pines.

A Dark Demon member in a black robe rushed in like a hunting hawk. He reported, "Lord Wilsar, Chairman Rangetsu, the Mizumi Clan has entered the Basiloth Empire!" "They’re sitting on a giant dragon’s back, admiring the empire like a royal patrol."

"No surprise from the Mizumi Clan; they enter like thunder rolling over calm fields." Wilsar sighed and turned to Rangetsu. "Is the matter of the Basiloth Emperor settled, sealed like wax?"

"Of course." Rangetsu’s confidence burned like a steady lantern in fog. "The Emperor was a dying ember; his last wish was to avenge his son, Diak." "We offered that chance like a blade to a grieving hand, so he belongs to Dark Demon." He waved, and the member left to bring the Emperor in.

"Would that stubborn rock of an Emperor yield so easily?" Wilsar’s voice cut like frost.

"It took some work to stretch his years like wax under a slow flame." Rangetsu asked, "How’s your side? Are the empire’s nobles all secured like stones set in mortar?"

Back then, the plan was simple and sharp like a spear. Rangetsu would seize the royal house for Dark Demon like a net drawing in a shoal. Wilsar would bind the nobles and the armies like iron chains.

"A small matter." Wilsar’s tone was casual, like rain on old stone. "The empire’s strongest was peak Law Realm—Overdeity Level—yet a dying elder." "I didn’t need to move; Nakart cut him down like rotted wood."

By now, the Basiloth Empire lay coiled beneath Wilsar and Dark Demon like a subdued serpent. Common folk heard nothing; nobles and generals saw it as clear as winter sky.

Many were unhappy, more were defiant, yet fear fell like a mountain’s shadow. None dared even think of revolt; they told themselves life would flow as usual, a river under ice.

"Lord Wilsar, may I ask something?" Rangetsu’s face tightened like a drawn bow.

"Till now, it’s been small skirmishes, splashes in a pond," he continued. "Next, if we succeed, we’ll stand against the Mizumi Clan and the Dragon Kin."

"I know." Wilsar nodded, calm as a still lake, and asked, "What’s your question?"

"Sir Xino is pinned by the Worldgate, yet the Mizumi Clan remains a storm." "The four races are their public allies, especially the Dragon Kin and Elven Kind." "So—how certain is your Origin Realm entity to descend into this world like a comet?"

From that other world, our infiltration was thin as mist at dawn. Our current front was Wilsar, a Law Realm force, plus Lixin and Nakart at peak Law Realm. Stronger than Dark Demon, yes, but far from damming the Mizumi flood or matching the four races.

"Yes, a real problem." Wilsar’s gaze sank like a stone into deep water. "Only by opening the Worldgate, bridging both worlds, can Origin Realm beings descend." "There’s no other path, a single road through snow."

"I know." Rangetsu’s voice cooled like dew on steel. "But the Worldgate was sealed by Sir Xino himself like iron under frost."

"Tricky indeed..." Wilsar frowned, lines like dry riverbeds across his brow. "Hm? That entity just sent me another command, like a wind in chimes."

"What command?" Rangetsu’s doubt rippled like a shadowed pool.

Speak of the devil, the timing felt too neat, like threads pulled tight.

"She says not to fret over the Worldgate; she has her way like keys in hand." "We should calmly obey. The order is this—seize the Origin Artifact from that Mizumi boy."

"Seize the Origin Artifact?!" The words cracked like lightning over dry hills.

Origin Realm indeed; even from another world, she saw our minds like stars through cloud.

"Yes. It seems she’s finally moving for real, steel to the hilt," Wilsar said. "We just strive to fulfill her commands; let thoughts fall like leaves."

He breathed out slowly, a sigh like smoke from fading coals, and shook his head. He knew what taking the Origin Artifact meant, and what storms it would bring. Even as a Law Realm titan, before an Origin Realm he was a pawn, a leaf in gale. Dark Demon would be fodder, straw tossed into fire.

He wouldn’t say any of that; breaking morale was poison like black rain. Perhaps the task would succeed; he clung to a thin thread of luck like dawn light.

"Agreed." Rangetsu finally let out a breath, shoulders settling like stones laid down. If an Origin Realm had a way to open the Worldgate, then the path looked clear like a river breach.

But doubt drifted through him like fog in a ravine. Wasn’t this helping another world invade this one, step by step like ants through grain?

"Don’t overthink it; toppling the Mizumi Clan matters most," Wilsar said, his tone a blade.

Rangetsu repeated his ideal like a mantra, and his eyes hardened like tempered steel.

Just then, the Dark Demon member returned with an old man in heavy armor. White hair frosted his head; a noble air hung on him like winter light.

"What business do you have with this old ruin?" he asked, eyes dull as spent ash. His voice was thick and ancient, and his breath carried dusk like a dying fire.

"Farldon, I have good news." Rangetsu’s words were knives wrapped in silk. "The Mizumi Clan—the killers of your cherished son—have entered the Basiloth Empire."

The old man was Emperor Farldon Basiloth; his deadened eyes sparked like embers. A face near death flared into anger like a storm crossing a plain.

He hated the Mizumi Clan utterly; Diak was his late-born sun, a prodigy rare as a blue star. So young, he’d reached half-step Overdeity, a path wide as the horizon.

Farldon had planned to pass the throne when Diak returned, to rest like an old cedar. Instead came a black tidings, like a raven at the window: death. The elder guard said Diak hit on two peerless beauties, angered them, and was slain.

Flirting cost a life—absurd as a moth rushing a bonfire. Farldon couldn’t accept it; his surging grief stirred old illness like rust in gears. As his life neared its dusk, Wilsar and Rangetsu arrived like night riders.

At first, Farldon wouldn’t hand over Basiloth; pride sat like granite in his chest. After seeing Wilsar’s Law Realm might, thunder close enough to taste, he yielded. His condition was iron: find the killers, and let him take revenge himself like a hammer on anvil.

By then he’d lost his heir and his years; nobles rebelled like crows in storm. They forced abdication; without Wilsar and Rangetsu, the throne would drown in that tide.

With Dark Demon’s airtight net cast like silk over rivers, truth finally surfaced. Diak died for flirting with Mizumi Clan girls—cold water straight to the bone. He was shocked, yet he understood why the blow fell like an axe through a sapling.

He knew Diak’s temper; with proper ladies or minor nobles, he prowled like a fox. This time he aimed at Mizumi Clan; it was shooting an arrow at a dragon.

Understanding was one thing; rage was another, a fire that demanded air. Farldon still wanted revenge, even against Mizumi Clan’s mountain. He’d lost everything; with Chairman Rangetsu’s promise and support, he’d burn his last spark.

"Where are they now?" He steadied himself like a mast in wind and asked low.

"They’re riding a great dragon, touring Basiloth like a storm cloud over fields," Wilsar said. "No need to rush; dealing with the Mizumi requires patience like slow iron." "I have a neat plan," he said, his smile like chess pieces set on velvet.

He took a sheaf of papers from the Dark Demon at his side and handed them over.

"What’s this?" Farldon’s fingers trembled like leaves.

Bounty notices—art as fine as silk—showed the Mizumi sisters in peerless beauty. Below, their crime of killing Prince Diak was penned like black ink on snow. Rich rewards, quality gear, and potent elixirs lured citizens to hunt them like wolves.

No personal details were listed; otherwise no one would touch such fire. Heavy gold breeds brave men, but the target still sets the line like a ridge.

"Before we act, we’ll stir the citizens to harry the Mizumi people like flies." "Disgusting them a bit is fine," Rangetsu explained, voice cool as moonlight.

"It won’t work," Farldon said, a grim tide rising in his eyes. "Their strength is a mountain; ants won’t move it."

"The point is to disgust them." Wilsar’s sly smile curled like a cat’s tail. "If we face the Mizumi alone, we may strain like oars against a whirlpool," he continued. "So let the whole Basiloth Empire wade in like a sea against one boat."

"This will drive Basiloth to a cliff’s edge..." Farldon’s face wrinkled like old bark. If the Mizumi Clan were enraged, the oldest empire on the Northern Abyss Continent would shatter like glass under a hammer.

"Don’t worry." Wilsar’s voice was steady as a hearth. "Basiloth now belongs to me and Chairman Rangetsu; we’ll guard it like our own home."

"Do as you will," Farldon sighed, wind through reeds. "So long as I can avenge Diak with my own hands like a blade I won’t drop." He withdrew, citing ill health, his steps hollow as drums.

Just then, Lixin and Nakart stepped from thin air like shadows leaving stone.

"How’d it go?" Wilsar asked, sharp as a flint spark.

"No problem," Lixin replied, her voice light as falling leaves. "We’ve spread the bounties across the entire nation like seeds before rain."