Seven days blinked past like leaves whisked along a gutter, nothing but the prep stage. A frosty flower-spirit couldn’t find a single friend and got tossed like a wilted petal. The half-orc Valiant got conned off the board by that fatty Dufei, like a boar lured into a pit with sweet bait. The scam mirrored what Ouyang pulled on Kooson; or rather, Ouyang’s trick sparked Dufei’s idea, and the fatty went to snare honest-faced Valiant with a fisherman’s hook.

Fifteen Demon Kings stood like storm peaks, and three toppled in the warm-up like candles snuffed before dawn.

In those seven days, a duke’s son of the Sole Empire still camped in Laisenya’s capital like a stubborn rock in a stream. His target slid from Jiuwenxin to Bai, like a moth veering to a brighter flame. Ouyang booted him out of the study with one kick, and the fool crawled back in clutching roses like a drowning man clutching reeds. His lovesick stamina left Ouyang speechless, like wind stilled under a heavy sky.

“Kid, I respect a romantic fool,” Ouyang said, voice dry as winter bark. “But our game starts now. No time to chatter. Go in peace—Heaven looks better with you in it.”

In Jiuwenxin’s study, Ouyang brought a brick down on Talyas’s skull with a clean thunk, like a hammer ringing on an anvil. The sound made Jiuwenxin flinch and cover her head as if hail had just cracked the tiles.

“That… that’s it?” Her voice fluttered like a startled sparrow.

Talyas had been hounding Bai like a stray dog chasing moonlight, and Ouyang chose to cut the root, not trim the leaves. So here lay the scene, simple as a cleaver through a knot.

Ouyang flipped the brick in his hand like a juggler tossing a moon, then shot a contemptuous glance at the nearby wizard Tiko. She rubbed her head on instinct, like someone feeling for an old scar in the dark. A brick had laid her out once before; since then, any raised brick pulled her hand to her skull like a shadow tugging at bone.

“Relax,” Ouyang said, calm as a lake before dawn. “My brick-fu’s sharp as a whetted blade. One hit, and he’ll forget everything about Bai like mist burned off by sun.”

He kept palming the brick, eyes drifting to Bai with a boyish glow, like a cat dropping a mouse at its owner’s feet. See that, Bai? Nailed it, right? Say something nice.

If it were Xi, she might’ve humored him with a breeze of praise. With Bai, that wish fell like a pebble into deep water.

In the corner, Tiko shrank into the wall like a leaf hiding from rain. “But this isn’t a fix,” she whispered, voice thin as smoke. “Once he wakes and sees Bai again, won’t it all repeat like a broken wheel?”

Ouyang had expected the worry and waved it away like a gnat. “Relax. Root cause, remember? What waves can a three-year-old stir, even in a storming sea?”

Tiko and Jiuwenxin stared, blank as frost on glass. Bai puffed her cheeks like a tiny drum and shot them a scolding look. “You two… Yang means the guy’s a fool now. He’s dumb, so he won’t bug me again. Honestly, this is as simple as a pebble in a bowl.”

Dumb?

Realization hit Jiuwenxin like cold rain down the spine. Talyas, bricked stupid by Ouyang. The Eagle Duke’s son of the Sole Empire, turned simple with one brick.

The weight of it left her stunned, like a deer caught in torchlight.

Tiko, though, wore a face as calm as old stone. That was the gap between a century of storms and a dozen summers. Jiuwenxin worried for Laisenya’s safety, like a householder eyeing a lantern in a dry barn, afraid to offend the Sole Empire’s blaze. Tiko fretted on a different height, like an owl watching the whole forest for sparks. She feared the world itself might be broken like a toy by the so‑called Nether Fifteen Champions. Facing Ouyang dragged up a despair as cold as seabed dark; even the legendary archmage had never chilled her bones like that. If fifteen Ouyang‑types strode out, fated rivals ripping the sky like thunder, what would be left of this world but ash and tide-lines?

Tiko tugged Jiuwenxin aside and whispered a long while, her words coiling like smoke under eaves. Jiuwenxin looked back at Ouyang and Bai, doubt flickering like candlelight. Was it all exactly as Tiko guessed?

She realized she’d still underestimated Ouyang and his kind, travelers from the Nether crossing to the human shore like cranes over mist. In raw power, they were no weaker than wizards; Tiko had said so herself, voice steady as a bell.

When the news spread that a brick had knocked Talyas simple, countries jolted like trees in a sudden gale. Someone dared defy the Sole Empire—madness like lightning on a clear day. Stranger still, Laisenya’s officials said nothing, like a drum gone silent before battle. If the rumor was false, they should’ve denied it like dousing a spark. If true, they should’ve grabbed Ouyang and waited for the Empire’s hand, like a net waiting for a hauled fish.

This time, Laisenya stayed silent, balanced like a blade on ice.

Fine, chalk Laisenya up to a royal whim, a weather-vane spinning in a tricky wind. But even the Sole Empire stayed quiet, the Eagle Duke not roaring for blood, like a hawk circling but never stooping.

Silence from both sides felt like the hush before a storm-wall, thunder brewing behind the cloud like a clenched fist.

In Laisenya’s capital, Ouyang and Bai stalked the streets under black cloaks, two shadows moving under streetlamps like moths skimming oil. Ouyang halted, eyes latching onto another cloaked figure ahead, furtive as a rat near grain.

He tailed the figure, his steps soft as falling ash. At first, he didn’t know the aim, but after a while the pattern snapped into place like bones setting.

“Holy hell,” he said, voice sharp as a snapped twig. “You’re really going to blow the whole capital sky-high.”

The figure had been planting devices in the city’s edge-corners like seeds sown at dusk. Not common bombs—alchemical bombs, their shine cold as moonlit metal.

His shout made the figure stiffen, like a fox catching scent of fire.

No time for chatter. “Bai, dragon form. Crush her,” Ouyang said, words like iron thrown in a river.

Bai nodded. In a blink, a silver dragon surged up like a comet unfurling, wings scything the clouds.

Wutong bristled from the shadows, anger flaring like thorns. “Ouyang, that’s a foul! Why is Bai here? Did you cut a filthy deal with those two referees?” From the moment she learned of Talyas and sifted her intel like a weaver sorting threads, she’d pegged this as Ouyang’s turf. His stance shouted to other Demon Kings like a drumbeat: Come on then. I’m right here. Let’s bleed and smile.

If he dared this, he had backing—roots deep as mangrove. Laisenya’s silence over Talyas meant the royals had met Ouyang; the whole kingdom might be one big snare, teeth hidden like reeds.

Wutong didn’t know about the other Demon Kings, but Ouyang rubbed her wrong like grit in the eye. She couldn’t sit still unless she smeared mud on his white robe.

So she slipped into the capital like night fog. Her plan was simple and vicious as a scythe: use alchemical bombs to blast the capital to rubble. She wouldn’t kill Ouyang, but she’d make him gag on ashes and learn not to grab too much sky.

Bad start, bad omens. She’d barely planted the bombs when Ouyang spotted her, quick as a hawk. Worse, he summoned Bai. Weren’t henchmen off-limits? He had to have made a dirty bargain with the referees, rancid as rot under snow.

No time to brood. The silver dragon roared like a storm breaking over cliffs and smashed a crater where Wutong stood, claws gouging earth like plows.

Ouyang himself rode the dragonback, seated with hands braced, calm as a lord on a veranda while rain slants down. One look at those two—a master and his blade—and Wutong didn’t even think of fighting; she bolted like a hare under lanternlight.

Driven by Ouyang’s terse commands, Bai hounded her without mercy, breath like winter squalls. A dozen buildings fell like toy blocks under a hammer before Wutong slipped away on a pre-laid backdoor, vanishing like smoke through cracks.

Wutong escaped, but the capital’s people stood stunned, eyes wide as moons. A dragon—one of the high-tier beings whispered in fireside tales—had shown itself like a mountain walking. For the first time, the world saw that species blaze into daylight.

The dragon’s arrival overturned common sense like a table kicked in a tavern. Faced with a creature that shredded towers like straw, even wizards stepped back three paces like waves retreating from black rock.

“We didn’t catch her, but we showed our edge,” Ouyang said later in Jiuwenxin’s study, tone warm as a hand on a hound. “Worth it.” He stroked Bai’s head; she closed her eyes like a cat basking in sun.

Watching them, Jiuwenxin couldn’t stay calm; her heart buzzed like a hive. Worth it? Two streets lay in ruins, crushed like reeds in flood.

“First Champion,” she managed, voice thin as paper, “your fights… could you avoid the crowded districts? The losses will flood like a breaching dam.”

With anyone else, even gentle Jiuwenxin would’ve cursed like a pot boiling over. But not with Ouyang and Bai. From Tiko she’d gained a rough measure like a map sketched in charcoal; now she saw the lines clear as ink. That monster alone could erase Laisenya like a sandcastle under tide, and no one could stop it.

At her faint complaint, Bai’s eyes snapped open, warmth gone like sun behind cloud. The satisfied cat was gone; a blade’s chill replaced it, gaze cold as hoarfrost. “Yang, she’s questioning our decision.”

Her voice was clear as ice; her eyes were winter. Sweat broke on Jiuwenxin’s brow like dew at dawn.

She remembered then: the so‑called pact had never bound them like iron, only promised a single wish when the demon crystal reformed, like a coin to toss in a well. With a pact, the Champions could walk the human world unchained, like tigers crossing snow. Mortals who signed had little use beyond that.

She plainly lacked the standing to speak as an equal; that truth sat on her chest like a stone. Earlier, she might’ve grumbled, but the memory of that roaring dragon was a black wing over her tongue. In a shiver of foresight, she seemed to glimpse the world’s future—a playground cracked and wrecked by monsters, like a garden trampled after storm.