On the Eastern Moon Continent, in Proudmoon City of the Eastern Moon Empire, the administrative hall of the Proud Moon Palace glowed like a lake of amber.
A cool turquoise wind whooshed in; the figures of Yumigawa Senki, Yumigawa Nozomi, and Elyar stepped out like shadows from a rippling veil.
Eastern Moon Aotian and the nearby officials flinched like startled birds, then rose as one and bowed like reeds before a passing gale.
"Eastern Moon Aotian, is it done?" Senki’s gaze swept the room like a bright blade; her words cut straight to the bone.
"Of course." Nodding, Eastern Moon Aotian strode over and offered a map scroll like a sealed talisman.
Senki unrolled it; three pages of the Eastern Moon Continent unfurled like river charts, inked with Dark Demon domains like patches of spilled night.
At a glance, each domain was small and scattered like campfires on distant hills, yet the number was a forest; the three of them alone couldn’t fell every tree.
Eastern Moon Aotian waited until she’d read, then spoke like a drumbeat under fog. Only five branch halls count as true Dark Demon power; the rest are intel posts and nests.
Formal members there are few, he said, but the points are many, a net of thorns spread across the entire Eastern Moon Continent.
"So many?" Nozomi leaned in, eyes round as moons over water. "How long would it take to wipe them out?"
"If strength fails, you drown in numbers," Elyar murmured, voice low as wind under eaves. She smelled deep water here, not just froth.
The Dark Demon has rooted here for centuries like pines on stone; they must have buried cards, and Xinuo’s personal edict isn’t some child’s game.
For now, they barely knew the Dark Demon, because Senki felt digging was a wasted spade; fine, step by step, with an avalanche waiting at their back.
It was many, yes, yet only five marks covered broad ground, all tucked in deep mountains and old forests like wolves in winter dens.
They’ve always grown in shadow like mold between stones, prodding disputes like poking embers, recruiting jealous hearts who resent the Mizumi Clan.
After centuries, a swarm isn’t surprising; a hive hums if no one smokes it out.
Senki wanted clean battle, thunder without drizzle; that fixed their sights on the five Dark Demon branch halls like targets lit by lantern-light.
But cut weeds without roots, and spring wind brings them back; leave the scattered dens, and trouble will sprout like bamboo after rain.
Yet there were too many dens, a sky of stars to pluck; Senki lacked the hours on the clock and the hands on the rope.
Three people could break five halls like snapping old spears; to scour the rest, they needed a tide, not a trio.
More people, she thought, like a bell struck at dusk—and then she smiled, because the bell already had a city to answer it.
"I need your help with something," Senki said, voice steady as a drawn bow.
"Name it," Eastern Moon Aotian replied, resolve hard as iron in a furnace. "Through fire and water, we’ll see it done."
"Our goal is those five Dark Demon halls," she said, face settling like frost. "The scattered gnats don’t interest us, so—listen."
Aotian and the officials held their breath like fishermen waiting on still water, eyes fixed for the float to twitch.
"In the name of the Mizumi Clan, summon every capable soul on the Eastern Moon Continent to a crusade against the Dark Demon," Senki said, a bell peal over the plains. "Spread it."
"...Gulp." The sound fell like a pebble down a well, and for a heartbeat the air froze like ice on glass.
Then the hall erupted; without a command, officials bolted like startled deer, their footsteps drumming away into the corridors.
As an Emperor, Eastern Moon Aotian steadied himself like a mountain in wind. "Understood. When do you move?"
"It’s late," he added, voice warm as a hearth. "Dine, bathe, rest, and at dawn ride to hunt the Dark Demon."
"No dinner," Senki said, calm as moonlight on tiles. "We ate at home. Just have baths and rooms prepared."
"Understood." He summoned several maids with a clap like a fan closing, then excused himself like a shadow slipping away, to notify the emperors of the other realms.
"Qianji Sister was so cool just now!" Nozomi chirped, pride bright as fireworks.
"Rather than Yumigawa Senki being cool, it’s the Mizumi name that opens gates," Elyar said, dry as winter leaves.
"So what? Qianji Sister’s still cool," Nozomi shot back, her grin a slice of sun.
Following the maids toward the baths, their voices braided like ribbons; Senki could only sigh and smile, a helpless warmth like tea steam.
Senki’s call took only three or four hours to sweep the Eastern Moon Continent, a wildfire running before a night wind.
The Mizumi Clan had withdrawn to the Central Continent and gone silent for centuries like a dragon sleeping under ice; tonight, it roared.
They called for a crusade on the Dark Demon, and hearts leaped like drums; who wouldn’t thrill at that? The Dark Demon’s name was on every tongue.
They claimed to be the world’s second, and they dared challenge the Mizumi Clan; to most, that was a clown on a cliff, begging the wind.
Their combined strength might rank just behind the Four Great Races, but against the Mizumi Clan it was sky to chasm, candle to sun.
To most of the world, the Mizumi Clan is faith, a bright banner over the road; when faith speaks, few can sit still.
Emperors of several empires began mustering armies like clouds gathering steel, banners billowing toward the Dark Demon’s nests.
Some doubted at first, shadows flickering like fish, until they learned the news came from the Eastern Moon imperial house; doubt died like smoke.
From imperial high seats to common mercenaries and free mages, everyone moved like a tide, sharpening blades against the same whetstone.
One house rejoices, one house mourns; the five branch halls of the Dark Demon shook like trees in a storm, leaders and elders pale as ash.
The weak-willed fled overnight like rats from grain barns, while Rangetsu—the founder and grandmaster—was far off on the Northern Abyss Continent.
He was buried in a crucial plan like a miner deep in the mountain, and no message reached him across that sea of stone.
Left with no other rope, each hall pinned hope on trump cards they’d never played, coffers sealed like talismans under floorboards.
The Mizumi Clan’s pull was a moon on the tides, far beyond their guesses, dragging whole coasts into motion.
In short, with a single call, Yumigawa Senki dropped a boulder into a glassy lake, and the Eastern Moon Continent rose in waves.
