Saint Cole, a Dragon God, stood at the Zenith of the Law Realm; his presence pressed down like a mountain, so crushing Wilsar was barely worth mention.

By contrast, Yugong Sacred Sound had only just stepped into the Law Realm; her grasp of law was green iron, while Molor wielded a seasoned storm, and she fell behind within breaths.

Only her Semi Origin Artifact staff and a cascade of Supreme Divine Elixirs—boosting defense, attack, and speed like layered armor—kept her afloat; otherwise Molor’s hatred for the Mizumi Clan would have drowned her in a single tide, no mercy spared.

This isn’t good. Fear tightened her chest like frost on glass; after she narrowly slipped past Molor’s killing stroke, she popped a speed elixir and started clawing for a path to win.

Damn it! So weak, yet loaded with treasures! Molor’s voice was a gravel storm; fighting her scraped his pride raw.

To fight someone from the Mizumi Clan is to fight an enemy with a bottomless well; without an overwhelming edge, a drawn-out war becomes a slow bleed under a cold rain.

Time moved like grinding stones; Yugong Sacred Sound’s Law spells smoothed from clumsy to fluent, while Molor felt a vise close—he, a Former Demon King, being stalled by an initial-stage ‘little girl’, and the slope pointed toward loss.

A fallen tiger hounded by village curs—bitterness pooled in his heart like stagnant water.

No more holding back, or the gate closes. Grit bit his nerves; Molor ignored the strain on his demonic heart and unleashed his greatest kill.

… Demon Domain! The earth erupted; dozens, then hundreds of colossal black pillars punched up like jagged fangs, fencing the area, and a field sealed shut like iron.

Inside that field, elements, laws, even air vanished like smoke in wind; only a thick, eerie demonic miasma remained, and the rules Molor commanded coiled like chains.

It was his Law Domain, a trump meant for the mid stage of the Law Realm; forcing it at the initial stage dulled its edge and scarred his heart, yet it would more than suffice.

He feared any twist of fate; like a wolf breaking from brush, Molor surged in and attacked with relentless, knife-bright ferocity.

The instant the Domain locked, Yugong Sacred Sound’s face blanched like paper; a chill thought rang not good, and she flared multiple guarding barriers at full power.

As expected, the Demon Domain didn’t just erase—it devoured; anything not Molor within its bounds, spirit and life, mana and rules, all fell like leaves into its maw.

What it ate, it churned into rule power for Molor to drink; inside the Domain his strength rose like a filling tide, while the other side faced only a black end.

If her barriers hadn’t blossomed in time, she’d have been swept away; even so, she could only hang on and defend, because once that shell cracked, an endless swallow awaited.

Every strike from Molor carried death like winter steel; Yugong Sacred Sound dodged or braced, and within four or five minutes she burned through over a hundred bottles of Supreme Divine Elixir, her posture ragged as torn silk.

The Domain offered no elements or laws, no rules to borrow; she had to feed her guarding barriers with elixirs alone, and the consumption roared like a furnace.

Molor watched, furious and jealous, heat and bile twined; Supreme Divine Elixirs were rare even at his peak, each worth a Supreme Divine Artifact, and she splashed them by the hundred like common tonics—waste like smashing jade.

Give those to him, and he’d be back at his peak within a day; with luck’s flash of insight, his power might even temper further, like steel refined twice.

Such depth—no wonder the Mizumi Clan has ruled the Central Continent for centuries; their foundation is a mountain beneath the sea, unimaginable to touch.

No wonder the Inner World strains to invade this world; perhaps one Mizumi Clan outvalues their entire realm, Molor thought, a cold ripple under his rage.

The Demon Domain won’t last long; break that tortoise shell now, end this fast. The thought struck like a hammer, and he moved.

Nearly ten minutes slid by; Yugong Sacred Sound’s aura thinned like a fading flame, wounds bloomed, cracks spidered across her barriers—yet her defense refused to break.

His plan to win fast inside the Domain crumbled like wet sand; every extra breath turned the slope against him.

Knowing this, Molor ignored the backlash clawing his battered body. He cranked the Domain’s devouring higher and poured all its fed rule power into one strike. A jet-black spear condensed, razor-sharp, its cold light biting like winter moons, draped in dense miasma—the blow ranked at the high stage of the Law Realm.

In short, that spear was a one-time Supreme Divine Artifact; there was no escape, no dodge, and a hit meant instant death. Danger hemmed Yugong Sacred Sound like a noose.

She stared at the spear’s ice-bright tip, and regret pricked like thorns; she’d misjudged, assuming Molor’s Domain would burn out soon, so she turtled to stall.

She hadn’t expected him to trade wounds for her life; without a plan now, she’d leave her bones here, and it was far too late to call Saint Cole.

One path remained—force the full power of her Semi Origin Artifact staff and meet Molor head-on, steel to storm.

But with her current strength? Impossible; the gap yawned like a canyon.

When you lack strength… you smash elixirs. Supreme Divine Elixirs can boost weapons above the Artifact tier as well—if you can stomach the cost.

Only Semi Origin Artifacts absorb the most, a full hundred percent; each houses at least one artifact spirit, and some rare ones hold two or three, stars in a blade.

And what do artifact spirits love as tonic? Supreme Divine Elixirs, any flavor, like nectar to bees.

Can’t awaken a Semi Origin Artifact’s full power? Then drown it in elixirs; the spirit will stir and aid you, lantern in the dark.

She checked her space bracelet—just over two hundred bottles left; half would go as offerings to summon the spirit, a rain of treasure into one point.

It hurt, a pinch at the heart; a year of saving had built four hundred bottles, and this bout with Molor had burned most to ash. Bridging a gap in power demands a price, iron heavy and inevitable.

At the cliff’s edge, Yugong Sacred Sound didn’t hesitate; she whipped out a hundred bottles and slammed them into the Origin Core at her staff’s tip, bathing it in a blazing elixir bath.

As the last drop sank, the staff exploded with a brilliance like a newborn sun; pure elements, laws, and rules surged like a spring flood and split the Demon Domain as easily as tearing silk.

That… is the Allsaints Spirit Staff?! Molor saw the truth and his heart sank like a stone thrown into deep water.