Starfate City took the heaviest rain in centuries. The sky finally broke, and a land parched for a hundred years drank deep.

Qingyu Mengyin, with her Divine Artifact and a plane-recognized True God-tier body, wielded Authority. One thought, and water abandoned the continent like a sulking tide. Another thought, and the thin water in the air flocked to her like startled swans.

Her granted Authority was Water Element Command. Water answered her like loyal hounds, her affinity sharpened to a peak.

Quasi-gods only brush divine mana. Legend says mana is divine power, diluted like watered wine. The Life Progenitor God birthed gods, then gifted all beings with sapience and mana. Through cultivation, any creature with mana could climb toward “god.”

Only innate gods can grant sapience. Later-made gods and innate gods are oceans apart; refined divine mana is a stream, innate divine mana is the sea.

Each plane judges “gods” differently. When the plane was whole, quasi-gods were everywhere like lanterns at a festival. Anyone not hopeless could grind to ninth rank.

Then a catastrophe splintered this region from the giant plane. It became a small, lonely plane adrift.

Those with means fled like migrating geese. No one stays in a world with no horizon. The ones left were those who wouldn’t leave, or couldn’t. As for “gods,” they don’t gamble eternity. Stay here, and you never walk out.

The Sea Goddess left, yet handed her ever-kept Divine Artifact to her chosen kin. It was a birth-gift from the Life Progenitor God to her most beloved youngest daughter. The Sea Goddess, cherished and blessed, healed quickly so long as her life-fire didn’t gutter. For an innate god, that was a trivial perk.

Her Merfolk royal line carried that blessing perfectly, especially Qingyu Mengyin, her bloodline honed bright.

Her trident carried three Authorities as its base. One was monstrous: with each change of bearer, it gained a Miracle. That Miracle could be anything. One use only, but it ignored causality and every shackle. Random, and terrifying.

The second Authority was water affinity. Every creature of the sea drifted toward the trident’s bearer like fish to moonlight.

As for the third…

This time, Qingyu Mengyin brought the Divine Artifact from home. She came iron-hearted, ready to roil this region and lay down a warning for the fools.

“Friends of the Flower of the Other Shore! Why are you still standing there? All of you, move! Stop her, or we die here!”

Fan Chen howled like a wounded wolf. The figures in the sky didn’t answer. They were here to do a job, not die in a storm. Against that monster, they wouldn’t last a single exchange.

“No good, City Lord Fan Chen! That little bastard’s too strong. I’m at my limit!”

“Yeah, City Lord, that brat has divine mana from an innate god backing him. We can’t crack him fast!”

“…” Yanfengle.

He’d have believed them, if he wasn’t being soccer-kicked around like a leather ball. Honestly, tanking several people and still standing felt like a miracle. That old goddess probably seized a chance for payback, maxing his defense stats and barely touching the rest. It still hurt like hot needles.

Yanfengle swiped at the tears edging his eyes.

Dabai’s side was better off. They and the Wolf King had little blood debt.

So no one moved to help Fan Chen—except the Vampire at his side.

Bitter irony. In the end, his shoulder-to-shoulder ally was a former enemy. The rest were dead weight in a flood.

Bleakness gnawed Fan Chen’s chest. He ground his teeth and stared at Qingyu Mengyin.

Not yet. He still had hope to kill this demon.

He shaped a translucent hand from mana, then, on reflex, patted his pocket. Good. He’d kept the thing he’d been told to keep. He hadn’t thought he’d sink to this.

“Demon! May you die badly! Monsters like you—hell itself will spit you out!”

“Save it. The demons in hell? I already slaughtered them.” Dreamsound rubbed her temple, annoyance like a brewing squall. She watched Fan Chen falter, then said, “I don’t even consider you lot ‘human.’”

No bridge left, only fire and ash. Fan Chen clenched his fists and hurled himself toward a ruin, spending everything.

“You think I don’t know what you’re trying to do?” Qingyu Mengyin’s voice held no warmth, only rain-slick steel.

The rain around him knit into a cage, bars of water locking him in place. He couldn’t take a single step.

“You know? So what! You think you can stop me? Secret art—”

Space overlapped.

In the next breath, Fan Chen stood amid the ruins. His right hand gripped the fainted Tangxue. His long spear was gone; a crimson dagger burned in its place.

It was a blade tempered with fire poison. One glance, and Qingyu Mengyin knew the aura and its etched patterns. Her pupils tightened like snared thread.

This aura. Too familiar.

“I thought you were merely pitiful. Now, death would be a bargain for you.” Her voice cut through the downpour, and everyone shivered. Dreamsound shed her lazy air; her eyes held naked killing intent.

“Don’t come closer! Or I’ll kill her!” Fan Chen pressed the dagger to Tangxue’s throat. “I know your Merfolk heal fast, but with this dagger, one touch—”

“I don’t need you to explain.” Qingyu Mengyin lifted her right hand slowly. Her gaze weighed him like a cooling corpse.

“…What are you doing?”

“Nothing. So—what are you doing?”

“I—”

A blue flare knifed past Fan Chen. The dagger vanished. The little one beside him vanished as well.

He froze, then fury twisted his face.

“You! Oath-breaker! I should’ve known—ha… hahaha… I should’ve known you were in this together. Flower of the Other Shore, sea witch—made for each other. The scum of all living things.”