“Please. A Demon Heart’s nothing special, just another polished stone in the stream.”

After Yumigawa Senki finished, Yumigawa Nozomi’s interest guttered like a windblown candle. In the Mizumi Clan, manuals are forests and resources are oceans. A Demon Heart, meant to pass on insight, is no rare moonstone.

“True, it’s useless to us. Still, it’s precious, like gold under ash. And this one might be a Demon King’s heart.”

Senki rolled the heart fragment between her fingers, brows knotted like storm clouds. “How did Dark Demon get a Demon King–grade heart? The demon race guards such fire like a temple flame. It shouldn’t leave the Demon Deity Palace.”

“Could it be the Former Demon King’s heart?” Elyar’s voice rose like a bell from fog.

“The Former Demon King…” Senki’s gaze drifted like rain on old stone. “The chronicles say that over a thousand years ago, he and our Ancestor fought to mutual ruin. He almost died. He escaped only by detonating his Demon Heart. After that, he vanished like a star swallowed by cloud. Most likely, he died in some nameless place or plane.”

“Right. Dark Demon probably stumbled onto the Former Demon King’s grave by sheer luck,” Elyar said, words cold as morning dew. “Even after so long, a Demon King’s heart is a mountain. Dark Demon can’t digest it. So they split the broken heart into five crescent shards, sent them to their branches, then force-sealed the Demon King’s legacy onto those shards to steal the power of laws.”

“Wait, what?!” Nozomi’s head spun like a sparrow in a gust. “Isn’t our Ancestor the strongest? How did that end in mutual ruin? And, Qianji Sister, you said a Demon Heart forms at death—so how did the Former Demon King have one?”

“Our Ancestor touched the threshold of the Origin Realm at the end of the Era of Turmoil,” Senki said, calm as a lake before dawn. “In that duel, he had only a slight edge. As for why the Demon King had a heart, I don’t know. I only read a sketch in the books, no deep study.”

She stowed the fragment and flashed a fox’s grin. “If we expose that Dark Demon hides the Former Demon King’s heart, they’ll become the world’s enemy. Should we stir that storm?”

“Huh? Why?” Nozomi blinked, eyes bright as raindrops.

“Simple.” Senki’s tone rang like a bronze edict. “The Former Demon King lit the Era of Turmoil, first to wrest dominion from the god race. More races joined, and it spread like wildfire across the world. Our Ancestor didn’t kill him, but after founding the Mizumi Clan, he declared to all under heaven—a decree like mountains: anyone who finds the Former Demon King’s remains or related items must report to the Mizumi Clan at once, or be judged as bearing all his crimes.”

“In other words,” Elyar said, voice thin as blade-light, “if we reveal this, Dark Demon bears all his crimes and becomes the enemy of all people.”

“That’s why he rushed to reclaim the shards,” Senki said, eyes like knives in mist. “He feared our lantern would catch his rats in the ceiling.”

She almost admired their death-wish—shouting to topple the Mizumi Clan like crows at noon, then hiding the Former Demon King’s heart, trying to chain his legacy and claim its fire.

That’s not just defying Mizumi. That’s defying the whole sky. The world hates the Former Demon King—embers under ash, still hot. Peace lasted for centuries; most forget. But the scars he carved are fossils in the heart. The four long-lived races remember like old trees remember lightning. Even the demon race bears those burns. They won’t sit idle.

“Qianji Sister, what do we do next?” Nozomi asked, voice soft as rain on tiles.

“Mm.” Senki’s gaze darkened, storm rolling back from the sea. “The shard’s with me. He’ll come. Priority is prepping for a fight. He’s strong.”

As for the other branches’ shards, Senki didn’t chase them. Time had flowed like a river; the black-robed man likely reclaimed them. Better to sharpen blades than chase shadows.

“Fight…” Elyar’s worry hung like a bridge over a gorge. “Yumigawa Senki, can you truly beat a peak Overdeity Level foe?”

Even with her strength, crossing from Deity Level peak to Overdeity Level peak is a canyon to leap without wings.

“Relax.” Senki smiled, warm as spring on stone. “I’ve got fifty-fifty odds. And if raw strength falls short, we’ve got Supreme Divine Spirit Medicine, rain to bridge the ravine. No fear.”

“Qianji Sister’s right! Let’s leave—this place is too gloomy, damp as moss on bones.”

“Mm. Okay.” Her assent fell like a petal.

All three vanished from the secret room like swallows into cloud.

…

On Lihai Island, the black fog dispersed like torn veils. The armies withdrew, a tide pulling back. Only corpses and the iron stink of blood lay scattered like driftwood.

Senki moved to clean the shore like sweeping leaves from a shrine. A surge of power exploded ahead, a wave slamming the reef.

“Little thieves of the Mizumi Clan, hand over the fragment!” The voice cut like a jagged blade through wind.

The sudden storm cracked Senki’s calm. Danger pressed like ice on the spine. She drew the Sacred Life Sword and Windchant in one breath, twin arcs of moonlight.

“Space-Time Sword: Oblivion.” Her whisper was a bell in snow.

Time’s law and space’s law coiled around her blades like twin dragons. The black-robed man faltered, a heartbeat snagged on thorns. Senki struck with space’s edge, and he staggered back, steps breaking like surf.

She had unleashed fully, fuel burning like oil in a lamp. Her reserves dipped. But the Sacred Life Sword’s recovery blooms like green shoots; a breath, and she’d return to her peak.

The black-robed man sneered, acid as sour rain. “As expected of the Mizumi. Heaven-defying artifacts in your sleeves. You’ve broadened my horizons.”

Senki answered with silence, eyes flat as still water under dusk.

He was nothing like before. Death-qi clung to him like grave-fog; demonic qi boiled like pitch. His strength had spiked to a half-step Law Realm, a tower built on sand.

Was it the Demon Heart shards? A shadow settled under Senki’s ribs like a raven’s wing.

“Who are you?!” Nozomi snapped, anger sparking like flint.

“Born of the Mizumi yet so rude?” His laugh was smoke. “Fine. Remember me. I’ll topple the Mizumi Clan. I am the Dark Demon president—Rangetsu.”

His name fell like a black moon. His eyes turned crimson, lanterns slick with blood. Demonic qi erupted like a volcano. Lihai Island drowned again under black fog, a night tide swallowing the shore.