“The vanguard’s gone. They only squeezed out fragments of intel.” The long-haired youth in black armor crushed the purple-robed man’s soul shard like dry ice, a knife-smile glinting. “This place might be fun.”

“My lord,” a subordinate bowed like bent reed and edged forward, “should we prepare ahead of time?”

“Hah. Prepare for what? No need.” The youth clasped his hands behind his back, breeze-calm. “It’s just a spider with some muscle. So what.”

“But… sir. Yaan and the others died unjustly.” The man’s voice flickered like a weak flame.

The youth shook his head, snow shedding from a bough. “The gap between me and Yaan isn’t simple anymore. A web spun by a spider—if I can cleave open a passage, why would silk hold me?”

“Yes, my lord.” The man swallowed, a pebble sinking in a well.

“Let’s go.” The youth chuckled, footsteps rippling through the void like rings in dark water. “I’ll take this universe for the Emperor as a coronation gift.”

Power swam everywhere like deep-sea currents—mysterious, inexhaustible, untouchable. Those tides kept countless universes turning like lanterns in night wind. A blue barrier cloaked the youth like a mobile shell as he drifted through the endless dark.

Soon, he came upon a world webbed with cracks, a spider-egg of a planet mending at an unnatural pace. “Its guardian has some skill,” he murmured, palm on the shell like a hand on old bark. “Didn’t expect a barrier blown by special force to knit this fast.”

The next instant, some alien energy gnawed his hand like acid. It burst apart with a wet pop, blood spattering like red rain. He only frowned, a wrinkle across still water, and flicked his wrist. Flesh flowed back like mercury.

“So, the defense came back first.” He smiled, found the seam he had once cleaved from leagues away, and pressed in like a blade between scales, easing into a world that wasn’t his.

“Mmm. Thick with power.” He inhaled like a wolf in frost. “What a waste in the hands of primitives.”

Meanwhile, shadows spilled from the crack like migrating birds, troops pouring into this cosmos in a dark stream. The youth glanced back at that tide and sneered. “Spider spirit, isn’t it? Let me see if your web can bind an ocean of soldiers.”

“My lord! The army’s ready. We await your command.” A general stepped up, voice steady as drumbeats.

“Good. If the guardian won’t show, we’ll scythe this universe clean of life.” The youth bared his teeth, winter-white.

“Yes, my lord!” The general bowed and strode off with orders like iron plaques.

The youth drew a three-meter greatblade from the sky as if fishing moonlight. He swung at a nearby star. A violet arc slit the void like a comet’s tail and cleaved the star in a single breath.

A colossal beast billowed up behind him, shadow blotting constellations. It opened its maw, a black whirlpool, and swallowed the entire star with a single, tidal gulp.

The youth, the behemoth, and even Eli all dwarfed planets, their silhouettes like mountains drifting through night seas.

“Feeling good?” The youth patted the beast’s head, like thunder on hide.

The beast rumbled twice, low as rolling earth, and nuzzled his shoulder like a tame storm.

“Glad you’re pleased.” He nodded, satisfied as a hunter by a full fire. He looked around, eyes cold as sleet. “This guardian’s useless. We’re making a mess and he still won’t show.”

“Maybe your aura’s too strong, General. Fear makes turtles of brave men.” A subordinate bowed, words like ash.

“Could be.” The youth laughed, ember-soft. He smoothed his armor. Battle heat cooled on him like dying coals. He’d expected a worthy foe. He’d found a turtle in a shell.

Edlyn kept her hood low, her body buried in a cloak like night folded over night. She stood in the cosmos, veils of color circling her like auroras, hiding her in the star-sea.

She watched the invaders butcher low-tier lives, ice in her eyes and a thin, crescent smile. They were mock-ups made from her demonic qi. Once they finished killing, her qi would drown them like a red tide and devour the lot.

The smile touched her lips, then fled. Her face went pale as paper. Coughs tore through her like cold knives, sharp and raw. After a long moment, she steadied, a reed finding still water.

Her gaze lingered toward where Eli was, soft as moonlight, then she shook her head. “I’ll finish it for you. Trust me. I can. Stop splitting your mind for me.”

But the tether on her heart tugged, a silk thread knotted tight. She sighed, tasting sour and sweet, love and ache braided like rain and sun. She knew it for what it was—her last battle, a candle burning at both ends.

If she didn’t break through and death caught her mid-step, the long-suppressed power would explode like spring flood. It would refine her mindless body into a god-body, then invite a stranger’s soul to move in. She would never let another wear her skin and wound Eli.

Pity. Eli didn’t know. She forced a bright smile toward his far-off presence, sweet as sugar plums, sharp little canine flashing—beauty so flawless even Eli’s heart, steady as an ancient stone, would heave like a stormed sea.

“Alright. My turn. Can’t let these outlanders peacock around.” She hopped down from the sky. No sound, no ripple, like a leaf settling on still water. She simply stood on the planet.

Wherever she walked, nearby invaders were swallowed by darkness like candles pinched out. No screams, no echo. They vanished as if traced in ink and wiped clean.

She hummed the lullaby Eli once sang, child-soft, and skipped through the battlefield like a girl through dew. With each step, thousands of invaders turned to black blood, then smoke, then nothing.

One last male invader carved a Black Demon in half, breath sawing like a bellows. He grinned, smug sun breaking cloud, and turned to check his comrades.

He froze. His soul trembled like a drumskin under storm. Behind him, a colossal black serpent loomed, tongue flicking like a wet ribbon.

He saw faces on its hide. His comrades, stamped like masks across living night. Rage roared up his spine like fire in dry grass. He leapt high, blade aimed at the serpent’s crown.

The serpent opened wide and swallowed him midair in one smooth whoomp, then chewed with an eerie rhythm and gulped him down. Its body swelled, a black hill growing.

It flicked its tongue again and swam toward the main host, a river of shadow rushing to sea.

Edlyn sat on a stone, heels tapping like rain. She nodded, pleased. “Not bad. Black Flame plus a spark of spirit is this strong.”

Eli’s divine sense pinched Edlyn’s cheek, a warm breeze across frost. His first feeling was worry, sour and tight. Thoughts followed like footsteps. No more of these terrifying toys for this silly girl. He’d do the dirty work. Her hands shouldn’t catch that stain.

He smiled and shook his head, willow-soft. He cleaned the enemies off his giant web one by one, like picking thorns from silk, then reeled in every strand of energy, thread by thread.

His gaze crossed the cosmos like an arrow and met the youth commander’s from afar. “I figured it,” he murmured, rising from his cross-legged stillness like a mountain standing. “Not just him. He’s got others hiding at his level.”

He spat out his toothpick, a straw drifting from his lips, and grinned. “Guess I have to step in.”

Far away, the youth felt that look like a touch through thin ice and lifted his eyes. “So there you are.” He glanced at the nearby crack, a smile like a thin blade. “You’re stronger than I thought.”

“What, am I too handsome?” Eli smiled, moonlight mischief.

“You know you’ve walked into my great web?” Eli said, voice calm as dew.

“Oh? Those toy strings?” The youth hefted his greatblade, threat cold as starlight. “Guardian, you overestimate yourself. Believe I cut every thread with one swing?”

“Oh? I don’t.” Eli mirrored his tone, lazy breeze over spearheads.

“Ignorant.” The youth shook his head and flicked his blade. The universe rang—snap, snap, snap—like piano wires breaking in a frost-bitten hall.

Eli gave him a surprised glance, eyes narrowing like slits of dawn. “Looks easy for you. You’re something.”

The youth nodded, pride bright as polished steel, though a ripple of shock moved under his calm. Those threads were tougher than he’d imagined, iron in silk.

“Alright. You’ve got numbers. You gave me a slap first. I should return the courtesy.” Eli scratched his head, a rueful breeze, shameless as spring.

“Oh?” The youth tilted his head, a hawk curious over a field.

Eli set his hand on the Jade Seal Sword’s hilt. His mouth moved, a prayer to steel. “Sever the Void.”

The blade flew from its sheath with a whoosh no mortal eye could catch. Eli spun a flower of steel in the air, petals of light cutting with boundless force. It swept through the ranks like a tidal line across sand. In the next heartbeat, the Jade Seal Sword returned to rest.

Eli’s right hand stayed on the hilt. His left formed a sword-finger, two frost-white petals before his chest. His eyes shut tight, night folding over a lake.