Right now, Rangetsu was wrapped head to toe in oily, eerie demonic miasma, like a drowned moon smothered by storm clouds. Pain twisted his face into a knot, and his voice broke into nonsense. “Damn it… now of all times! I won’t let you dev—ah!!”

The agony tore past what his body could bear, like floodwater bursting a broken levee. He collapsed, nails raking muddy earth like an animal, and screamed a shriek that crawled under the skin.

“Sister Qianji, Elyar, what’s wrong with that Rangetsu guy? He’s so scary!” Littlesky tugged Qianji’s sleeve and edged back, like a fledgling hiding from thunder.

No wonder—Rangetsu’s look alone was nightmare ink on paper. The dense demonic aura pouring off him was a stormfront that blotted the sea and sky.

“…I have a bad guess. Want to hear it.” Elyar’s tone was a winter bell, low and cold.

“Funny, me too. Elyar, just say it.” Qianji soothed Littlesky first, heart heavy as wet iron. Then she closed her fingers around the Sacred Life Sword, afraid of facing the next crisis as helplessly as before.

“The Former Demon King stood at the Zenith of Law Realm, a peak where even mortal wounds don’t mean easy death. I think his body died, but his soul didn’t—it merged into the Demon Heart.” Elyar’s words fell like snow on a grave. “Then he could devour the soul of whoever inherited the Heart, and rise in their place.”

She didn’t want to admit it, but the sight of Rangetsu swallowed by black qi was a shadow that fit the shape too well.

The Demon Heart had been split into five shards and sealed in Dark Demon branches, its fangs blunted by time. But Rangetsu reclaimed four shards and wore them close, so the Heart naturally fused on its own, like magnets snapping together.

As the shards merged, years of sealing flaked away like old paint. The Former Demon King’s soul, pressed and embittered for so long, surged to devour Rangetsu’s soul—tide swallowing shore—relentless. Even as a ragged remnant, even with most law-force bled away, it still eclipsed Rangetsu’s Overdeity Level peak like a mountain eclipses a lantern.

Thankfully, the last shard of the Demon Heart is on Qianji. If the fusion had finished, Rangetsu wouldn’t have a scrap of self left—not even ash in the wind.

“Huh? The Former Demon King’s coming back? That’s really bad, right?!” Littlesky flinched like a sparrow at a hawk’s shadow.

“You’re right, Littlesky. We can’t let him revive, or the world falls into chaos again—especially now that Xinuo Miss is tangled in her own troubles.” Qianji drew the Sacred Life Sword with a clear, springlike chime.

She glanced to Elyar. “This enemy isn’t ordinary. Even I don’t like my odds. Protect Littlesky. If you can, get her far from the fight.”

“…I understand.” Elyar’s nod was a stone sinking in deep water. She gripped Littlesky’s small hand. “Be careful, Yumigawa Senki. Leave Littlesky to me.”

“Mm.”

They shared a brief nod like two lanterns in the same night. Elyar flared the Wind King Barrier with a whoosh, ready to leave the island. Qianji gathered vast light-law, and leapt forward like a blade caught by dawn.

“Lightblade: World-Illume.”

But Rangetsu—who had been writhing on the ground a heartbeat ago—stood up in a snap, like a puppet tugged by hidden strings. His right hand caught Qianji’s strike as if plucking a falling leaf. His left hand, dark laws swirling, formed a shadowy sphere and hurled it like a midnight comet.

“Space-Time: Swap!”

At the razor’s edge, Qianji forced time and space to trade places, exchanging herself with a hill hundreds of meters behind. The world lurched; a distant ridge took the blow with a boom, and she breathed by a thread.

An attack steeped in law-force was a guillotine. In her current state, meeting it head-on meant a cold corpse on warm earth.

One short exchange set the gap in stone. She felt it like a cliff at her feet—no artifact could bridge that distance.

“Hm? Still got some will left. Stubborn as old roots.” The voice through Rangetsu’s lips curled like smoke. “Whatever. This body will be mine soon. Let’s celebrate early.”

He didn’t press the attack. He muttered to himself, then laughed loud, thunder in an empty hall. “Hahaha! After centuries of torment, I live again! I’m only at the Law Realm’s initial step, but it’s enough. Time will let me rise.”

Black fog thickened over the offshore island like ink spilled on a map. Lightning clawed the dim sky, and thunder rolled, a drum on Qianji’s chest.

“…You’re the Former Demon King—Molor?” Qianji let the Sacred Life Sword’s recovery bloom through her, spring water refilling a dry well, and steadied her breath.

“What ‘Former’? I’m very much alive.” Molor’s gaze paced over her like a cat circling a flame. “At your age, that strength—worthy of that Yugou Sage’s blood. But to me, you’re still weak. You carry one of my Demon Heart shards, don’t you? Hand it over and beg, or I’ll kill you and take it myself. Choose.”

She could feel it. Molor’s Law Realm, initial stage, wavered like a new-forged blade. At best, he stood half a step toward the Zenith. If he seized her shard and completed the Heart, that wavering would harden. Disaster, plain as stormclouds.

So she had to hold the last shard, no matter the cost. The bitter truth—she didn’t have the power.

“You think I’ll bow to a Demon King just because I’m from the Mizumi Clan?” Her voice was a drawn string, tight but unbroken.

“Confidence suits the young. Pride gets them killed.” Molor’s words were a knife wrapped in silk. “Being Mizumi puts you at the world’s peak, but your current strength doesn’t reach that seat.”

As he devoured Rangetsu’s soul, Molor chewed on memories too, drinking in the age like wine. He hadn’t struck Qianji yet because of the shadow of the Mizumi Clan at her back. Some mountains you circle before you climb.

But there was good news that made his plans bloom like night flowers—partners from another world. Wilsar and the rest used Rangetsu; why couldn’t Molor use them in turn? Their target was the same: topple the Mizumi Clan.

No one knew Rangetsu had become Molor—no one but Qianji and her side, candles in a dark room.

“You’re this high-profile and not afraid your identity leaks? In this world, you’re the crime that never forgives.” Qianji kept her blade low and her heart tight, waiting for the mask to slip.

“Don’t worry.” Molor’s tone was a smile made of ice. “I’ve already shifted this island to an empty plane. Whatever happens won’t rattle the world. As for those two little girls who ‘left’ earlier—they’re still on this island.”

His expression snapped cold, frost on iron. “Now do you see where you stand? The Mizumi name is worthless here. Be smart. Hand over the shard, and let me erase this little memory of yours.”